ophie

noah has trained our cat, ophelia, to meow for a treat whenever he is in the kitchen. it has a nice rhythm, their process. he goes into the kitchen, she jumps on her chair and leans towards him, perched, and meows. he slips her a treat, she devours it. but now she won't stop asking. and i worry the treats aren't doing her any favors in the weight department. the belly on her small frame seems swollen with treats.

snow day

Friday night, and sitting at my kitchen table. the same spot as that photo in the entry below. I opened some wine, and Noah just came home in a playful mood, bearing gifts like toilet paper and new sponges from Target.

hopefully he will take me to dinner, and we will talk over some sushi. i will put my boots on and we will traverse through the city snow.

Apartment in the North End. Noah took this photo from his desk. I think I am studying.


Nope... on closer inspection I am talking on the phone.

To whom?

Empire Records

Remember that movie? Being 13 or so.... wanting Liv Tyler's outfit or Renee Zelwigger's brazen sexuality. Cool friends and a cool job. Aching for the boy--with the hair in his eyes and slouchy sweater--to fall in love with me.

Empire Records was how I dreamed of 17.

sundays, part 2

tomorrow morning i am making blueberry and walnut pancakes. how about that!

Sundays

...are the best day of the week, minus my guilt for always skipping church. Sometimes I read the Bible, sometimes I read some poetry, sometimes I try and write some. usually i read the boston sunday globe and skip most everything until i find the Ideas section. It only comes on Sunday and is always full of promise, like I will read something that will fill me with a whole new direction. brand new wonderings and insight. usually this does not happen, but you never stop hoping.

actually most sundays i wake up at 9 hungover and put on dirty jeans. trudge the same route i always take to school. listen to my ipod, lately josh ritter or older loves, like patty griffin. i love patty griffin. she has a gritty hard voice.

my dad is a pastor. he spoke at a church in arlington and afterwards called to say "can i come and have a cannoli with you?"


we sat at cafe victoria on hanover street and talked about the red sox spring training, and how he--a republican!--voted for obama.

Nana Parsons

Nana P is 89. She recently told noah and me that football is why she "keeps on ticking" and that she "lives for the patriots." she has a closetful of patriots sportswear, and the only ornaments she put on her small fake christmas tree this year were Pats ornaments. (small plastic footballs with santa hats, and so on.) she might love the patriots more than anyone i know.

I have never known my Nana to write poetry... but i suppose in times of great sorrow, it can help a person cope. she wrote this on sunday night and gave it to my mom.

"Ode to the Patriots"
by Betty Parsons


oh that a dream so sweet, so long enjoyed
should be so cruelly, so sadly destroyed

time. is on our side?

it is febuary in 2008 and i live in boston. i walk to school everyday and listen to my ipod or talk to papa on my cell phone. i spill coffee on my mittens.

this time last year i was a restless bartender living in gloucester. i took walks on the beach with sarah and her dog remi, and drank martinis and watched soap operas and worked late nights making other people happy.

three years before i was living in bridgewater, stir crazy with my parents and engaged. noah and i took dance lessons for our wedding and fought like cats and dogs.

the previous year i lived in a shoebox apartment with tina, sam and missy. titi and i had no windows in our bedroom and on saturdays when we didn't have to waitress could sleep until noon because time meant nothing without sunlight.

and before that, in a cabin in oregon. which changed my life in most every way. i had a hoop nose ring and ran naked in the woods with a group of women. learned to love reading poetry outloud.

and in 2001, spent most of my time at 609 wingert drive, with my boyfriend and college friends. i was there on September 11, after chapel, which is where i first saw the footage of the second plane hit. in the boyfriend's arms as we watched people jump. and the footage of the tower falling.

and the year before that, meghan was my roommate on naugle 3. we locked the door and listened to the cars or elton john and danced like wild. we fought like crazy, too. screamed at the top of our lungs.

the year before that i lived with a really conservative mennonite girl, with the hair covering and everything. she used to read me excerpts of her christian romance novels aloud and i would fall alseep to the sounds.