Convalescing in Cambridge

Over the weekend, I came down with the flu. While it was a less-than-pleasant way to spend  Memorial Day, I did get to convalesce at my mom's house, which proved remarkably restorative.

In general, I'm a real grownup who can take care of herself when she's sick.  After a day where I couldn't get up from the couch, though, all I wanted was for my mommy to feed me crackers and pat my head. When she offered to do more or less just that, I realized how lucky I am to live close to home and whimpered "yes, please." I just sleep better at home, you know?

Tuesday, the back porch became my office and I got to send emails and fiddle with documents while looking at the garden. It was lovely.

This weekend, I'm heading up to Vermont to (maybe) run a half marathon and generally spend some time in the woods. If I'm lucky, a swimming hole may be involved. How about you? Anything good planned?

Should you ever find yourself in North Cambridge, not too far from Davis Square and the Arlington border, I strongly recommend a trip to Verna's.



They're a little hole-in-the-wall, but they make the best donuts around. I've been going since I was tiny. My dad would take Dewey and me out for a chocolate honey dipped and an orange juice most Saturday mornings when we were little.


(the chocolate honey-dipped are still my favorite)

Anyway, I recommend that you get a dozen. Include a couple of coffee rolls, even if they're not your favorite. Someone will like them.



Then, find a couple of friends and a good place to sit. (You may need to drive. Or you could walk to Davis.)
Coffee's a pretty good thing, too.



Then you should eat the donuts and be happy.

Hi Rise, revisited.

I have written before about my adoration of Hi Rise on Brattle, my favorite cafe in Cambridge, and maybe anywhere, so it won't come as a surprise that when I found out they were moving, I got really sad.

I've been going here to read my books and think my thoughts for seven years now, so on their last day, of course I had to go back for one last turkey and avocado sandwich. They're moving, not closing, but no location will ever be quite as wonderful as this one. I'm going to miss it. Lots.

{No trip to Hi Rise is complete without a busted-up moleskine. I have thought at least sixty percent of my most important thoughts while drinking a latte and writing in a journal at Hi Rise.}

{No, you silly cafe, thank YOU!}

Happy Monday!

It's freezing outside right now (it's 65 degrees-I do recognize that that won't feel so freezing come winter!), so I kind of forgot how hot it was this weekend. But man, that was a scorcher.

It was so hot, really the only thing I could do was go to the happy place and jump in the lake immediately. I had a dear friend from college in town, plus Emma was around, so of course we needed ring pops. Also, lemon slush. (Is that a uniquely New England summer treat? I am kind of getting the impression that it is.)

As it turns out, homemade granola is an excellent snack after a late night of dancing with your sister and her friends. (I'm still looking for the perfect recipe though- anyone have any suggestions?)

Once it cooled down, I got to have an Arnold Palmer, read my book, and write some letters at Hi-Rise. A weekend where I spend time at two of my happy places is a good weekend, indeed.

Happy Monday, Friends!

Happy Tuesday!

{Yes. I do have two notebooks here. So what?}

Happy Tuesday, Friends!

I spent our Monday holiday surrounding myself with stationery products and coffee at Hi-Rise while contemplating my favorite Martin Luther King, Jr quotation. Is there a better way to spend an extra day off?* I think no.

*A day off that ISN'T a snow day, of course.

Hi-Rise

On Saturday, I took advantage of the gorgeous weather by spending some time at Hi-Rise, which might be the most perfect cafe, ever.

I've been going to this Hi-Rise since the summer after my freshman year of college, when I was taking acting classes at the American Repertory Theater down the block and nannying a little boy who went to summer camp right nearby. A year and a half later, I was back at home, nannying The Girl, and I went there every day for a cup of coffee* and some time to read before I got on the T to pick her up at school.

I especially love to go there when the weather is nice. Then, you can sit in their courtyard and think your thoughts and read your books and eavesdrop on the grad students discussing grad student things.

When I was at college and then again when I lived in San Francisco, as soon as I came home after time away, I would hang out with my family, and then, as soon as I could, I would excuse myself to go to Hi-Rise for a latte, a piece of vanilla loaf cake, and some quiet me-time. It was my calm-down ritual. It still is.

*True story: I had my first-ever cup of coffee at Hi Rise. It was a latte, and it was amazing.

P.S. On a completely unrelated note, today I am wearing yellow tights with boots for the first time this fall, and it makes me happy.

I am.

Are you?

{Image source}

Here's the deal: I kind of have a thing for Haiti.

Growing up in Boston, which has a relatively huge Haitian population, it's hard to miss little snippets of Haiti. The people across the street from my mother's house were Haitian. The man who owned Parnell's, the corner store two blocks down, moved to Cambridge twenty years earlier but still did a mean business in Haitian groceries and candy. In middle school, so many of my friends spoke Creole, I started to pick it up. (The only word I can still remember means "fuck." I try to avoid using it in daily conversation.)

Anyway, this is all to say that when I heard about the earthquake, it felt personal. Not nearly as personal as it does for all the actual Haitians, but still. It's just so unfair. So very, very unfair. So today, if praying is your thing, let's do that. If good vibes are, let's send some that way. If you don't believe in either of those things, let's send some money. 'Cause Haiti needs it all.

{Day of Action thought up by AphroChic}

*I'll be back tomorrow with Birthday Posts. This is just kind of consuming me right now.

Morning Questions

This morning, I have some questions.

If I love peaches, and I know that nectarines are basically just peaches without fuzz, why do nectarines give me the heeby jeebies? (And why don't they give me the heeby jeebies if I slice them up?)

Why can't I make coffee? I am usually an okay cook, and I drink coffee all the time, so shouldn't it be easy to make?

Don't these chairs in Harvard Yard look cheery? They're so bright and un-Harvard-ish.

And lastly, who wants to go apple-picking in two weeks? I am dying to do New England things this fall. Afterwards, I am going to make apple pie AND apple crisp.

Maybe this will help me sleep.

It's one-thirty in the morning and I can't sleep,

so here are some pictures I took my last week in California.

As it turns out, it's little things I miss.

{San Francisco has the best burritos.}

{Please pardon my chipped nail polish. It isn't chipped any more, I promise!}

{In San Francisco, they stamp the names of streets into the sidewalks}

{Lots of people hate MUNI. I'm not one of them. They returned my wallet once, plus, look at their cool logo!}

{Goodbye California!}

It should be noted that as much as I miss San Francisco (and boy oh boy, do I), I could not be more content in my decision to return to the East Coast. This side of the country is home, and it just feels so right to be here.

Back in Massachusetts

I have a long post coming about saying goodbye to California (two oceans in twelve hours! many delicious California foods! friends!), but I'm not really interested in that right now.
This week, I've spent a lot of time sitting at home, going to summer camp with the same child I hung out with last summer, and eating poached eggs.
I hope next week is more productive.

Home.

I am in Boston. It is wonderfully hot and muggy.
I never, not ever, thought I would ever use the words "wonderfully" and "hot and muggy" in the same sentence.
I love being home.

When I was six, my parents hired a nanny to take care of my sister and me. Missy was awesome, aside from the fact that her car used to break down all the time, so we would have to walk home from school instead of getting a ride. (When you are six, this is a very big deal. Walking home is, like, the worst thing ever.) She used to do all sorts of projects with us that never turned out quite right, but, instead of these disasters being disappointments, they always felt like a fun sort of adventure. In addition, Missy was from Texas, and she was a Republican. She taught our little hippy Cambridge hearts about diversity. She also taught us about Buns of Steel.
My sister and I used to love doing Buns of Steel. We used to come home, eat our little hippy snack of apples and organic peanut butter, and pop Buns of Steel into the VCR to start doing leg lifts. We tried Abs of Steel once, but we just didn't like it very much. Nothing quite compared to the satisfaction of knowing that you were building your Bun Muscles with every leg lift. (I don't remember anything but the leg lifts. They made a big impression because I was worried that I would build up the muscles on one leg but not the other by doing different numbers of lifts on each side.) We did Buns of Steel every single day after school for several months, and I'm sure our five- and seven-year-old buns were very toned as a result.
Right before I started third grade, my mother quit work to stay home with my sister and me, and while we stayed in touch with Missy, we totally forgot about our favorite pastime. I haven't done an exercise video in fifteen years. (If you remember that I was seven fifteen years ago, you will be especially impressed by this fact.)
I hadn't done an exercise video in fifteen years until today, that is. I was bored with running and keep reading all these blogs where people lose weight and get all toned doing exercise videos, so I found a twenty-minute kickboxing video for free online and did it. And it kicked my ass.
Way harder than Buns of Steel ever did.

Funny

Whenever I am upset about anything, Holly Near's music makes me feel better. This makes me laugh, because Holly Near is an activist. Her music is truly beautiful, and she has an amazing voice, but songs like "No More Genocide" (about, shockingly, genocide) or "It Could Have Been Me" (About the Kent state shootings) aren't really what one thinks of when one thinks of comfort music. I, however, am from Cambridge.
This means that I have hippie parents. And that I grew up eating organic peanut butter (yes, I really did) and going to protests and listening to activist music. My oldest musical memory is listening to Nicolia ("Nicolia girl, worked inside a factory/Never saw the sun, never saw the summer sea . . . Dreamed one day she'd meet a prince/but she's been real disappointed since . . . One day she read a book called Organize/And she understood every word, to her surprise") on the record player in the living room with my dad. I was probably three or four.
For me, listening to Holly Near feels the same as curling up on the couch under a big blanket with a mug of hot chocolate. Her music just makes me feel better. And lately, for whatever reason, I've needed a lot of comforting. So I've been listening to a lot of Holly Near. And for whatever reason, I feel better.