Bringing Blogging Back

Yes, my friends, it is time for a new blog entry. I know you've been waiting with anticipation for this moment since early May, and it is finally here. I probably should feel some pressure to live up to the hype, but a lot of interesting things have happened recently that will surely entertain you for a few minutes. So without further ado I'm ...

BRINGING BLOGGING BACK.

I'll give a month by month summary of my life since May, leaving out key details for the sake of privacy.

June - KJS got married. Her wedding was awesome. Got to hang out in South Beach with old friends. Gave up coffee at the end of the month and went through serious withdrawal.

July - Another year older. WHOO. Visited home mid-month; had an above average trip on the Bolt Bus (read old posts to understand part of the reason why I need to mention this - I'm just being fair and balanced in my representation of people I've met on public transportation).

August - It was ridiculously hot. I didn't have air conditioning in my apartment (it's kind of complicated, but we never had it at home growing up, so I didn't think to get it in my studio until it was too late, and then I didn't bother). As a result, I sat in front of my little fan, ate boyo or Cafe Podima frozen yogurt for dinner an inordinate number of times, and watched way too much NCIS. Oh, and sometimes I would go into work early just to enjoy the AC.

September - Moved into a new apartment with J. It's been fun so far (I hope J agrees). Federer lost in the US Open Final; I was crushed. It's ok, I'm over it now but it was a pretty rough week. My little brother turned 21, and started his senior year of college. Yikes.

October - How is it already October? I'm writing this in Italy but probably won't post until I return to the States. This brings me to the real points I'd like to make in this post...the top five things I've enjoyed in Tuscany (in no particular order because I'm bad at structuring my thoughts)

1. Il David. Everyone is OBSESSED with il David in Florence. DW even got little David statues to bring home as gifts for her coworkers (apparently they want tiny naked men to adorn their desks?). My coworkers are getting postcards. I care about them just as much, I promise! It was really an awe-inspiring sculpture, though, and it was probably my favorite piece of art from this week. That's saying something too, since we saw a lot of art!

2. Siena - Everything about this city is wonderful. I was particularly impressed with the Piazza del Campo, which you would probably recognize from the opening scene of Quantum of Solace (Daniel Craig's first Bond movie - I'm hoping you knew that). It is the piazza where they have the horse race, which gets interrupted by a violent chase (a standard part of the James Bond formula). Random fact - In an effort to preserve my GPA senior year, I took an enlightening class in the Film Studies department called "Bond and Beyond" which was a 10A. We'd watch a James Bond move each Tuesday and Thursday morning and then talk about it. Kind of awesome. Fortunately, we didn't make it to the Pierce Brosnan ones. I say "fortunately" since I can't stand him in the role. He's great in Remington Steele (yet another underappreciated TV show that I'll have to write about in another post), but he just isn't convincing as James Bond. Feel free to disagree, but remember that I'm the one with this class on my college transcript. Anyway, Siena was really beautiful, and I enjoyed just wandering the streets for the afternoon.

3. Chianti - We drank this every day. Sometimes twice. I have to admit I've never liked red wine before (instead opting for pinot grigio or sauvignon blanc), but now I'm a convert. Not much else to say other than that one of my favorite parts of the trip was lunch at the peak of Poggio Scali, which took nearly two hours to reach on foot. We enjoyed pecorino, fresh bread, prosciutto, and chianti from a local grocer. The view wasn't bad either.

4. Gelato - I ate gelato 4 out of the 5 days of the trip, and I have the photographic evidence to prove it. Nocciola is by far the best flavor, but pistachio was a close second in my book. That being said, about half the flavors were chocolate so I can't really speak objectively about this. I was very tempted to try Nutella, but 10 years is a long time and I didn't want to break my streak without careful consideration (especially for a product that I can buy in the States). I think I might be ready to eat chocolate soon though - just saying. Speaking of which, I did drink espresso this week, after not drinking coffee of any kind since the end of June. The withdrawal was painful enough to keep me away from it for a few months, but seriously, WHAT WAS I THINKING! Worst decision ever. I am going to try to incorporate a moderate amount of coffee into my life at home. This is going to be tough since I don't do so well with moderation, but I think I can handle it. I just miss having coffee in my life. Those cozy mornings doing the crossword just aren't the same with a cup of tea.

5. DW has a really awesome story that I'm not sure she wants published on this blog. Need to get clearance first to share the details, but it really was an integral part of our trip here. The reason I can't just write down all the facts is because it concerns another individual who is quite famous in certain circles and might not want to be named on my little blog. He has a stalker or two (seriously), and I wouldn't want to contribute to any personal stress. Oh, and he is on a date with DW in Paris right now. Pas mal, DW, pas mal...

Public Health Announcement

I'm thinking of giving my blog a new title, as many of my posts have dealt with the dangers one encounters in day to day life. Today, I will report on another threat to your well-being that you probably already know about unless you live under a rock (or possibly in Australia): SWINE FLU. Watch out, people. This could be coming to a state near YOU sooner than you think. I just got a breaking news alert from The eDartmouth that New Hampshire has a staggering TWO "probable" cases of this deadly killer. I was going to go up for Green Key, but maybe I should stay away. The way I see it, frat basements would be the perfect breeding ground for such a disease. In the mean time, my coworkers and I will be designing a line of fashionable face masks to deter the spread of the disease. The fact that they aren't that effective at preventing the disease is meaningless to me. We will assume a fixed (not variable) cost model, and will be forced to go out of business in a matter of weeks. It will be just like the Michael Scott Paper Company, except for the whole paper thing.

I went shopping after work on Wednesday on Newbury Street. Jon Scherr '08 walked past me but didn't make eye contact. From the looks of it, he was thinking intensely about something. MISSED ENCOUNTER ALERT! I should post on Craigs List.

It has recently come to my attention that a girl I played junior tennis against is pregnant. Facebook alerted me. I didn't recognize her from her photo, as her hair is now jet black (she was blonde when she was 12). She may have dyed her hair, but she can't hide her baby bump. From the looks of it, she is due in a week. I would wish her congratulations, but we haven't spoken in a decade, and we weren't friends when we knew each other.

I also just found out that my team's clients Googled my name and told my boss about what they found. How awkward is that? My boss reported to me that they read about how I was a ranked tennis player in Massachusetts. I don't really know how they came up with that (since it isn't true and doesn't appear in the results when you search my name), or why they would admit to stalking me in such a manner. I think they meant well, though, which is what counts I suppose.

Speaking of tennis, a former teammate ("KJ") and and I hit last weekend, which was a lot of fun. I'm protecting her identity here due to the sensitive nature of the story I am about to share. We had a perfect afternoon planned out (we both like to plan things), as our college's baseball team was in town to play for the Rolfe Division title. It just so happens that the Harvard outdoor tennis courts are right next to the baseball field, so we figured we could hit first and then watch the game. The only snag (which we discovered upon approaching the man at the front desk) was that we were apparently banned from the courts due to the fact that we weren't affiliated with Harvard. I suppose we could have lied and said that we were grad students and had simply forgotten our ID's, but being the honest girls we are, KJ and I told the truth. The man at the desk (clearly underestimating us) told us that normally, he would let us play at the guest rate, but since it was such a nice day, he couldn't give us a court because they were all in use at that time. After asking if there were any other courts nearby and being told that there weren't, KJ and I left the building. We then took a stroll around the perimeter of the outdoor courts, to survey the scene. As it just so happened, the man at the desk had lied to us, as about a quarter of the courts were not in use. We had gone out of our way to be honest with him, and the least he could do was reciprocate, but he chose not to. This is yet another example of why I hold Harvard in such high regard.

KJ and I decided that we WERE going to play--all we needed was a way to get on the courts. At first, it appeared that all the gates were locked, but lo and behold, some players leaving the facility had accidentally left one of the gates open! We took this chance to claim one of the courts, which KJ declared as the "most illicit thing she has ever done." I have to admit, I felt pretty guilty about the whole thing as well. After getting on a court (far away from the main building), we began to worry how we would leave. All the gates were supposed to be locked, so there was a good chance someone would close the gate we had come in. The main exit was though the pavilion where the front desk was located. Putting this out of our minds, we hit for about an hour, which made me feel like I was in college again. Before leaving, though, we had to devise an escape route. We both changed our shirts, donned hats and sunglasses, and pretended to be talking on our blackberries in case we had to encounter the man who had so rudely misled us. As it turned out, we were able to get out the same open gate that we came in, so we were able to leave undetected. The way I see it, we would have paid the (inflated) non-member rate to play if the man at the desk had given us a court, but as it turned out we were able to play for free. I felt pretty good about that. I also felt pretty good about the fact that our baseball team clinched the division title, and that our team (despite being the visitors) had many more hecklers than Harvard's team.

The Honest Bro has said it before, but I'll say it again right now: I'm glad my identity is a secret so that I can share stories like this one.

Up Next: A review of "taste tripping"- stay tuned!

Everywhere

Trivia last Sunday night was slightly better than two weeks ago, but we still did not emerge victorious. However, we did finish in fourth place, which actually turned out pretty well for us. To our surprise, the fourth place players were fated to be the lucky recipients of three advance screening passes to the movie "The Soloist," which is a far better prize than the $30 gift certificate to the bar. We also got three tshirts as an added bonus, and when free T-shirts are involved, you know I'm there. A guy claiming to be from Paramount Studios actually approached us to take a photo. I felt like a movie star! It was a great way to end to the night. It must be noted that this pseudo-victory was not without a fight, as well as some quick math skills on the part of David Steinberg '08. Somehow, a team with 93 points had been declared the fourth place finisher, while we had 102. Knowing that this injustice could not stand, our team appealed and justice was served. Overall, the night's questions had a rather dark tone, as we had to identify gun laws as well as famous assassins and their victims. Why is it that so many famous assassins used their middle name? I'd think twice about dating a guy who did that, to be honest. Like I've said before, it's a dangerous world out there, people. In the end, I didn't mind that we didn't win at trivia. Honestly, since "My Couch Pulls Out But I Don't" wasn't competing that night, it would have been an empty victory anyway.

Earlier that day, DW and I relived our college days by taking in a match at school. One of our regular fans (yes, we had regular fans), who coincidentally watched me play for the past four years asked me if I was a freshmen on the team while I was sitting in the audience. I kindly told her that I graduated last June. Also, if I was a freshman, I probably should have been wearing a uniform. OOPS! DW and I went to another match on Wednesday at Harvard. I promise, we're not living in the past.

In other news, I have a new "everywhere person." I had one in college, too. His name was Ian Boneysteele, but I have never spoken to him. I saw him ALL THE TIME in the most random places. It was completely unintentional, and got to be kind of humorous after a while. That being said, I went to college in a tiny town, so chances are you'd have the same favorite places to study as someone else. Well, there is now a man who lives on my block who has replaced Mr. Boneysteele as my "everywhere person." However, it is a little different this time because we're in the city now and he is a complete stranger. I feel like this is the kind of thing that people would post as a "Missed Encounter" on Craig's List. Have you ever read the these? They're priceless, and if you haven't read them you should really check them out. Here are a few of my faves:

"I saw you at trader joe's Cambridge today. you were behind me in line. you bought a bag of lime. You are beautiful. I like to know you."

DAMN IT. I was the girl who bought a bag of lemons. Oh well, I judge you when you use poor grammar anyway.

"You stared at me on the orange and red lines. You had lots of freckles and green or blue eyes. I have brown hair and green eyes, was dressed in black cause I was going to/from work, had a skateboard, and might have been wearing a scaillie cap, or not. I was rocking out to my IPod as always. You stared alot but wouldn't make a move. Am I supposed to stop listening to my jams and make the first move or something? Why don't you speak up? This has happened so many times now. :-( "

The sad face just conveys so much emotion here. You have to feel for this guy.

To Janna from Comcast: "Thanks for the great deal on internet!! Your voice is incredible. Accept it!"

The first half of this post is pretty normal (for missed encounter standards), but I love that this guy is encouraging his mystery woman to accept herself. What empowerment. Classic...

I actually just saw my everywhere person in my laundromat yesterday. We said hello this time though, since running into each other has become a regular occurrence. Good thing I was wearing a hoodie and my glasses. Really, I haven't let myself go...yet.

A last point: the guy who placed his mat directly in front of mine at yoga on Thursday should think about investing in some spandex shorts. You know that Friends episode where Phoebe's boyfriend doesn't wear spandex but should and Ross, Chandler, and Joey try to tell him subtly that he's exposing himself--that reminded me of this guy. In general, I'd say that pants should be your go-to option for practicing yoga, regardless of your sex. If you don't want to wear pants, at least get yourself some spandex. You can get into some pretty compromising positions! I think that will be the advice I leave you with for this week. Think about it.

Scrabble, Continued

I feel like I need to explain myself after being slightly misrepresented in THB's most recent post. So, here is the entire story, from the beginning. It all started out on an uneventful Sunday evening. I was visiting my parents, and I don't typically do much other than watch TV or read after dinner when I'm at home. The night before, I had actually gone out for one of the first times in my hometown--I find it a little uncomfortable to drink where I grew up, because I haven't lived there for an extended period of time since turning 21. However, I made an exception for this occasion. I'm not in town that often, and I thought it would be nice to catch up with an old friend. The original plan was to get coffee, but really, no one wants to be that "mocha-latte-cafe-americano-drinking" group of girls in the local Starbucks at 9pm on a Saturday night. Instead, we decided to be sophisticated, and tried out a new wine bar in town, called Vintage Port (Get it? Maybe you don't. It's supposed to be play on my town's name, which I won't disclose here for privacy purposes). After a glass and a half of sauvignon blanc, I was ready to call it a night. It wasn't that much of a "night out," but we did have a nice conversation. You have to give me a break though--I had slept about 6 hours in the previous two nights combined, and I needed a good night of sleep. Side note: what kind of wine bar doesn't have a pinot grigio by the glass on its wine list? That is simply unacceptable in my book. I bet the store owners don't even know how biodynamics relate to the process of making wine. ANYWAY, my point is that when I'm at home, I live a very contained life. I go to my high school track to run 5 miles on a regular basis. I do the crossword with my coffee in the morning after paging through Newsday. And I play Scrabble with anyone in my family who will play with me, which is usually my Mom. It's OK. I know I'm cool.

So, how could I NOT take offense when The Honest Bro insulted my very way of life? A sacred ritual in my household? I could not stand for this! In my friendly attempt (re-read my greeting, if you will--"Hi, friends") to bring this hallowed tradition to the streets of Boston, I was sarcastically shot down. Quelle horreur! You know what, I think I'm going to take the high road on this one. The offer still stands. I'd love to play a game of Scrabble with any of you readers out there now that I have a vintage board here. Oh, and FYI, last time I played, I opened the game with a seven letter word. YOU try to come back after being behind by 83 points when you haven't even made a move yet. It isn't easy, let me tell you.

A little more on Scrabble, since it is just that awesome. If you haven't seen this game played on ESPN, you are seriously missing out. They have these 12- and 13-year old whiz kids popping out seven letter words like it's their job. These kids have memorized the Official Scrabble Player's Dictionary, and can spout out every two letter word there is. In fact, one of these kids could probably beat me with his eyes closed, and one hand tied behind his back. Sadly, this isn't the only thing that people ten years younger than I am can do far better than I ever will, but I can at least dream of greatness.

Second note: at home, we keep our Scrabble letters in a purple velvet Crown Royal whiskey pouch. I have no idea where this came from; my parents never drink. We have had it for at least 15 years though, from back when I used to eat Alphabet cereal. Actually, that's not true. We always ate Cheerios in my house growing up, which aren't as good for spelling out words. They can reduce your cholesterol, though, so I've got that going for me.

Third point (which isn't directly related to Scrabble): I wore a Polo shirt to work today, in honor of THB's latest post. It had thin yellow and white vertical stripes, and a little embroidered horse in multi-colored thread, because I'm classy like that. The homeless man who sits by Dunkin' Donuts (you know who I'm talking about) complimented me on my attire.

One final note. I told my sister about this blog, as well as the blogs of THB and IRNJ&OT, this week. Since she currently resides in Sydney, I suppose that all three of us can say that we have readers around the world. Pretty cool, if you ask me... (Hi, Kate!)

Scrabble Challenge

Hi friends! I have an important announcement to make, so this post will be brief. I will be bringing a Scrabble board back to Boston, which I am pretty excited about. This is my official open challenge to anyone who wants to play. Let me know if you're up for a game! In the meantime, get your game face on...

On the Road Again

For the second time now, I am inspired to write on the Bolt Bus. Maybe it is the fact that I am again surrounded by college students that is reminding me what a "college" week I had. Or maybe it is just because it is 7am on a Saturday and I have four hours on a bus ahead of me. At least this time, the guy next to me seems pretty engrossed in his book. Actually, now he is sleeping. Nice! I have my iPod playing a suitable soundtrack to my life on this gray morning, and I have already had my first cup of coffee, so I am good to go. My only obstacle is typing on these tiny keys on my phone, so we'll see how long this post gets.

So, I wanted to recount why this week reminded me so much of the College on the Hill. It all started last weekend at trivia. We didn't have a good week. In fact, it was our worst week in a while, probably because I contributed more than my usual share of (wrong) answers. Unfortunately, the answer to the half time question was NOT Mario Lopez, which put us even further behind than we already were. If we had won, it would have been one of the biggest second half comebacks in trivia history. Sadly, it was not to meant to be. There was, however, one event that night that was at least a little amusing to me. At the start of the third quarter, a police officer in uniform casually walked into the bar. I instinctively went to put down my drink and got slightly irritated that no one flashed the lights as a warning. Then I remembered that I am 22, and that we weren't in the AD basement. I wasn't even drinking this particular night. I guess I'm still conditioned to look out for S&S. Maybe I haven't grown up that much after all.

My next "college" moment this week came during an alumni event at the State Room. This place is beautiful, by the way, and unfortunately my three readers were not able to make it. Surrounded by my peers, as well as many older alums, and even some of the parents of people we went to school with, how could I not get a little nostalgic? DW knows why this last segment of the audience was so amusing to me, but I don't feel like it is appropriate to write on a blog. After all, this is the internet, and who knows who could be reading. Then there was President Wright's partially recycled speech that reminded me of both graduation and the Daniel Webster dinner last spring. I didn't mind being reminded of senior spring, since in some ways it was my favorite term on campus. I made it a goal to have a much fun as possible, which was made easier by the fact that I was taking two easy classes and NROing one. Side note: those T-shirts that said NRO life have a whole new meaning to me now. Anyway, I had plenty of time to do all those things I hadn't gotten to do in the previous 3.67 years. Well, I didn't get to everything, but I do have some good stories. Speaking of Senior Spring goals, there was an article in the Mirror yesterday about the Dartmouth Seven, which made me think, what if there were a Beantown Seven? What would they be? The risk would be considerably greater, since I imagine getting caught by the police would be worse than getting caught by S&S and being written up in the police blotter in the D on Wednesday morning. However, that doesn't mean I can't speculate what would be on the list if there were one. Let's see...by the ducklings or the bridge in the public gardens? In Bates Hall in the public library? Fenway Park? On the T, a la Tom Cruise in Risky Business? This is interesting, to say the least, and while I'm not sure what the other three would be, I'm sure they would rival their Dartmouth counterparts. We may not be in college any more, but that doesn't mean that the real world can't also be our playground.

Well, my thumbs are getting tired, and I think it is time for some breakfast. I'm kind of regretting the 7am coffee, since I won't be able to nap now, and I woke up at 1am for the first time after going to sleep at midnight. Needless to say, it was a long night. Until my next post, you stay classy, Boston.

FNL, and Some Other Wholesome Television

Upon hearing the news that Friday Night Lights would be renewed for another season (from IRNJ&OT), I immediately knew what my next post would be about. FNL is flat out quality television, and I don't even like football. I'd watch the guy who plays Tim Riggins play curling if they made a show about that, although a TV series set in Canada might require its cast to wear more clothing than the current location of Dillon, Texas. Where's the fun in that?

I actually first started watching FNL because of Kyle Chandler. Yep, he plays the middle-aged coach of the Dillon Panthers. Fun fact: his wife on the show, played by Connie Britton, went to Dartmouth in real life and majored in Asian Studies. She is fluent in Chinese. (IMDB is amazing for this sort of thing. Maybe if I spent more time on this site I'd be better at trivia...). The reason I like the actor who plays the coach goes back 10 years (when Kyle Chandler was only about 35 instead of 44, which he is now. He doesn't look that old, I promise). When I was twelve, I started watching a show he starred in called "Early Edition" that aired on CBS. I was constantly fighting with my parents about what TV shows were acceptable for me to watch. My mother seemed to think that 'Friends' and 'Dawson's Creek' were "too sexual" for someone my age. If 'Gossip Girl' had aired ten years ago, I don't even want to think how my mother would have reacted. Things turned out ok as far as my TV viewing was concerned, since I got a TV (and cable!) in my bedroom shortly thereafter and watched whatever I wanted while I was supposedly 'doing my homework,' To this day, I look back and think how rebellious I was at this point in my life. In my family, we have since (unofficially) adopted a policy of just not talking about anything that might be considered controversial by my parents (drinking, sex, etc.). I figure, what they don't know can't hurt them--not that I live a morally reprehensible life or anything. Clearly, this is very healthy for us. I was a psych major, so I would know.

Bottom line is that my parents approved of Early Edition. As it turns out, Kyle Chandler became the first actor I remember having a serious crush on. I'm going to pause for a moment fill you in on what this show was about, since you're probably a bit confused, and apparently no one has heard of this gem. Contrary to what the title would suggest, Early Edition is not a 5pm news show designed for senior citizens who eat dinner at 4pm and can't stay up for the regular 6 o'clock news. Instead I give you this summary:

"His name is Gary Hobson. He gets tomorrow's newspaper today. He doesn't know how. He doesn't know why. All he knows is when the early edition hits his doorstep, he has twenty-four hours to set things right." - IMDB.com

If that isn't the basis for compelling television, I don't know what is. Gary would have to prevent all sorts of crises in high-pressure situations. In the pilot, he lost his job as a stockbroker, and woke up the next morning to find the paper on his doorstep. He became a bartender to pay the bills, which meant he basically could just go off and save the world during the day while leaving the store in the care of his blind friend Marissa and his former stockbroker buddy Chuck. In general, the show has a very positive message, which is why my parents approved of it. Gary only used the paper for good, although I'm sure you can see the potential to abuse this gift. In the pilot, Gary used the paper to win some money at the race track, since he could conveniently find the winning horses in the sports section. Instead of turning to the metaphorical dark side, though, our hero decided to use his winnings to buy a guide dog for Marissa, and then made the bold choice to help innocent people from all sorts of freak accidents on a weekly basis. I can't even express how much I loved this show! It should NEVER have been cancelled. Sadly, it isn't ever replayed on TV, so I'm not sure many other people loved it as much as I did. Anyway, the fact that FNL has been renewed makes me think that there is, in fact, justice in the world of television. Kyle Chandler deserves it.

******

Oh, one more thing. The FNL season finale is next Friday. Can't wait! Who wants to watch with me? The last few episodes have been pretty intense, with last night's episode covering the state finals and JD's issues with his parents. Personally, I think Lyla is being kind of stupid for turning down Vanderbilt to be with Riggins at San Antonio state, but now that there are two more seasons, we'll get to see where things go with the two of them. I don't even want to think about Matt possibly leaving Julie Taylor to go to college in Chicago, since they finally got back together. Sorry if I spoiled the plot at all for you, but you should have watched last night. At least I didn't give away what happened in the state finals. You're on your own for that one.

"The Best Kept Secret in Beantown"

As much as I love shopping at Whole Foods, it's a pretty expensive habit. I don't even want to tell you how many times I go in there a week. Somehow, even when I don't particularly need anything, I find myself stopping in "for just a few things" on my way home at night. Or, I'll go in to grab a yogurt or a Larabar when I don't have anything on hand for breakfast before work. I try to forget that I'm paying excessively inflated prices for products that come from humanely raised animals or items that don't use artificial sweeteners, but my bank account certainly doesn't. Simply put, I keep going back because the place has a great atmosphere--I just feel healthier as I browse the aisles full of organic items. A year ago, I never would have tried soy ice cream. These days, I find it hard not to buy a pint every time I'm in the store. Seriously, you should try it--it's delicious! Best of all is sample day, which occurs every Saturday afternoon at 4pm. When you're in there often enough, as I am, you figure out this sort of thing. I like to take my time as I do my shopping, and here and there I'll enjoy a few bites of things I can't afford, like scallops and almond butter for $13 a jar (Not together! What an unappetizing combination that would be. Last weekend I enjoyed my scallop in a soy glaze and my almond butter with an organic Fuji apple slice).

This brings me to my point. Everyone knows about Whole Foods--you don't need me to tell you about it. What I can tell you about, however, is the best kept secret in Beantown. It is not, contrary to the opinion of The Honest Bro, this blog (though if that isn't a coveted title, I don't know what is). What IS the best kept secret, in my opinion, is Haymarket. OK, maybe it's not the best kept secret, but I've been looking for a way to work Haymarket into my blog for a while now. Every Friday and Saturday, vendors at this open air market cram their little booths with all sorts of (non-organic) produce into an environment that is suspiciously reminiscent of a third world country. Actually, I haven't ever been to a third world country, so maybe I'm being unfairly judgemental. Sure, the whole place is crowded and dirty. Sure, someone is likely to step on your feet and chastise you for being in their way in Spanish. Sure, some of the vendors will yell at you if you try to select your own produce. What's not to love about this place?

I've found that as long as you navigate Haymarket properly, it is totally worth the dismal shopping experience. First of all, it is key to go either very early or very late to avoid the heaviest crowds. I'd say the general vicinity should be off limits around noon on a Saturday. If you go early, you get the first pick of fruits and vegetables. If you go late, you get better deals, since they just want to sell everything before it goes bad. Either way, you can get enough food to feed a small army. There are also some vendors that sell meats, fish, cheese, breads, and spices, but I haven't tried those, so I will focus on the produce portion of the market. Also, the raw fish doesn't look that appealing to be honest, and I'd be worried about getting food poisoning since it is sitting out all day.


One of the main guidelines I have for shopping at Haymarket is that you should always buy from vendors that let you choose your produce. If not, they will typically display the ripest fruit in front, and then have a box in the back full of bruised or otherwise undesirable produce that they will use for their customers. If you try to take from the display, prepare to be cursed at by the vendor. I wasn't kidding when I said it wasn't a friendly place to shop. Second, it is wise to walk past all the booths once before buying anything, since chances are, the vendor two spots down is selling 4 apples for a dollar, while the place you are considering now is only selling 2 for the same price. Even though it is so cheap, I always feel kind of stupid when I could have paid half price if I had just walked ten more steps. Those extra quarters always come in handy at the laundromat, especially because the machine that converts dollar bills at the place I go to has been out of order recently, and the convenience store across the street refuses to make change. But I digress. Speaking of money though, it is a good idea to check your change at Haymarket, since the vendors aren't always so great at basic math. I have a few vendors that I go back to every week, where I know I'm getting a good deal. This one guy will give me six sweet potatoes for a dollar. That's huge! In general, I can get everything I need for the week for only $6 or so. That will buy me 8 apples, 6 bananas, 6 sweet potatoes, a couple heads of lettuce, 3 or 4 tomatoes, and a quart of strawberries. At Whole Foods, you can expect to pay at least $30 for all of that--probably more. Haymarket is even open in the winter. They put up tarps over the stands and add space heaters to make the cold a little more bearable. Fewer people go, so the crowds aren't as bad. Honestly, it's amazing! If you haven't been there yet, you're really missing out. I would advise that you make a trip this weekend. While I will always enjoy shopping at Whole Foods, I wouldn't miss my weekly trip to Haymarket.

What Not to Say

Last weekend, I took an impromptu trip home to visit my parents. It was very productive: I filed my taxes, did my laundry, and visited my grandmother. The only difficult part was finding a bus ride back to Boston. I have gotten in the habit of taking the Bolt Bus, because it conveniently drops me off at Penn Station in New York City. The hassle of trekking to Penn from the Port Authority is eliminated. I would pay more for this luxury, but Bolt Bus also happens to be pretty cheap. Since I'm not the only one who has figured out this little secret, getting tickets on popular travel days can be a challenge. For trips home at Thanksgiving, for example, I book my tickets about a month in advance. However, I figured, how many people would be traveling to New York in early March? As it turns out: plenty. Apparently it is spring break for many of the fine institutions of higher learning that are nestled in this great city. Now, I never went home on Spring Break, so it didn't occur to me until it was too late. Fortunately, I was able to find a bus home that wasn't completely booked early Sunday morning, so I acted quickly and purchased my ticket.

Upon boarding the bus, I noticed that it was already pretty crowded. Resorting to my keen profiling abilities, I chose to sit next to a relatively young blond kid in a North Face jacket who was reading a paperback. How dangerous could this fellow be? Not very, I assumed. Probably a freshman in college. A few moments later, I was comfortably seated, and had opened up "The World According to Garp" to page 254. All of a sudden, my concentration was broken by a cell phone that was blaring "Everytime We Touch." The embarrassment on my neighbor's face was a dead giveaway that the phone belonged to him. He answered as soon as he could, but it was too late. "Hi Mom," he said in a hushed voice. "I can't talk right now, I'm on the bus." Luckily, for him, the driver then asked for everyone's attention. We were told that there would be some rules on this bus that were non-negotiable. First of all, there was to be no smoking on the vehicle. Duh. Then, there were some rules that were negotiable, like drinking. What? Did I get on a party bus by accident? It was 10am on a Sunday! I looked around to gauge how others were reacting to the driver's joke. Some people were laughing, but my neighbor did not appear to be amused. This was a bit surprising because he looked like the kind of freshmen who went to college and discovered beer. Yep, it was going to be a long ride. At about the two hour mark, we pulled off the highway at a rest stop. I was hoping to get a cup of coffee, but sadly, the only choices were Sbarro and Arby's. I settled for the yogurt I had in my bag, and worked on finishing the crossword I had started that morning. Then, it happened. My neighbor tried to strike up a conversation. Before the words came out of his mouth, I knew what he was going to say "So, uh, do you go to college in Boston?" This wasn't the first time I had heard this line on the Bolt Bus. Last fall, a similar young boy had asked me the same thing, and had then continued talking to me, sharing relatively personal details about his life for an hour while we were stuck in traffic in New York City in the rain. Needless to say, it wasn’t an experience I wanted to repeat, even with this new freshman. "No," I replied (with a smile) "I work here." I hoped that would do the trick and it did; my response was met with a blank stare, as if it meant we had nothing in common. Then again, it was probably true--I'd be willing to bet that he was born in the 1990s. So as not to be rude, I pointed out that I worked with a guy who went to his college, and that my co-worker was 28. It was a shame, they probably didn’t know each other. I went back to reading Garp and before I knew it we were back in Boston.

I realize that these incidents on the Bolt Bus aren’t particularly exciting, and when I take a step back to assess the situation, I’m sure these kids were just being friendly. But, when you consider my experience, I’m pretty wary of lines that guys have used on me. Now, I’m not implying that this is a regular occurrence, in fact, the opposite is true. But that further reinforces where I am coming from, since I have a couple fairly odd stories that have shaped my views.

So, I’ll explain myself with an anecdote. It all started innocently enough. I had been in Harvard Square to get coffee with a friend, and was taking the T back home. As I waited for the inbound train at the station, standing next to one of those large T maps, a guy approaches me and asks if the train will take him downtown. Yes! He was in luck—the train would indeed take him to his destination (as the giant map confirmed). I felt good about myself, for helping this lost stranger. Who knows where he might have ended up had I not helped him? But then our interaction quickly took a turn for the worse (for me). As soon as we boarded the crowded T, I found myself in very close proximity to this gentleman.

T-Guy: So, what do you do in Boston?
Me (not wanting to share the truth): I work at a consulting firm.
T-Guy: Do you work out?
Me (kind of surprised by the question): I like to run, and sometimes I play tennis. What do you do?
T-Guy: I help people sculpt the bodies of their dreams.

TIME OUT. WHAT? I have to admit, I started laughing. Then I realized that he was serious, and felt bad for mocking his chosen career path. I have no problem with personal trainers. But who really says something like that? I quickly regained composure—I didn’t want to offend him!

Me: How did you get into that?
T-Guy: Well, I just like to help my clients see results, and it lets me work out a lot. Let me ask you, how many pull ups do you think I could do?
Me: I’m sorry, I really have no idea.
T-Guy: I’ll tell you. On a typical day, I’d say 20. But if you were cheering me on, I’d say I could do 30.

Help! Where was my stop! I couldn’t wait to get out of the T. I was hoping he didn’t decide to get out at the same stop I did. Again, who says things like this? It all started out with his simple plea for directions. And THAT is why I am skeptical of strangers I meet when taking public transportation.

Watch out, people. It’s a dangerous world out there.

The Future of Tennis

I recently came across a rather exciting headline while I was perusing People.com on my lunch break at work. Apparently, Roger Federer's girlfriend Mirka is pregnant, and she is due this summer. I was shocked that I hadn’t heard this earlier, and that it wasn’t a more highly publicized news story. I even checked out Roger’s official website to make sure it was true that he and Mirka were expecting. Does anyone else find this as exciting as I do?

Once the story was confirmed, I started thinking how others would react to the news. If this had been public knowledge during the Australian Open, we may have been fortunate enough to get John McEnroe’s take on it during one of his match commentaries. I can hear it now: “Mirka is pregnant? You cannot be serious!” I don’t even want to think how Mary Carillo would react. In fact, I couldn’t even guess what she would say, because when she is commentating I typically put my TV on mute so that I don’t have to listen to her. I knew my former teammate Polly Spot would be devastated at the news, as her adoration for Roger was made apparent by the life size poster she kept of him in our locker room. Personally, I’m happy for them. Roger’s had a rough year, so he deserves this bright spot. Now, if only he could beat Nadal in a Grand Slam final, everything would be right with the world.

Roger and Mirka’s child certainly has a bright future in store. With two professional tennis players for parents (and arguably the greatest player of all time for a father), this kid will be a gifted athlete. Should she (I’m assuming it’s a she, and don’t want to continue this post using solely gender-neutral pronouns) develop an interest in tennis, I can’t think of anyone who might stand in her way to becoming the best player in the world…fifteen years down the line.

Or, can I?

It just so happens that two other famous tennis players (fairly) recently tied the knot and had two kids. That’s right—I’m referring to Andre Agassi and Steffi Graf. Their daughter, Jaz Elle, will be six this year. What if these genetically gifted kids BOTH decided to follow in their parents’ footsteps? Who would win if they played each other? This question has been tickling my brain for a few days now, and I’ve been playing a few scenarios out in my mind.

Here’s what I think would happen. First of all, Jaz Elle (I don’t even know what to say about this name…Jaz? Really?) would be 21 when Ms. Mirka-Federer would be 15. On the women’s circuit, if you’re 21, you’re basically past your prime. I think one of the reasons I feel so old now is because I am so used to hearing that girls just over half my age have already accomplished more in tennis than I ever did in the twelve years I played competitively. For this reason, I’d say Jaz is already at a disadvantage. However, we can consider her a wily veteran. On the other hand, I’m sure any child of Federer’s would have a ridiculous one-hand topspin backhand. I automatically have to give her some points for that shot alone, since it is by far the prettiest stroke in the game.

Bearing this in mind, let’s picture a match between these two players. Say, a showdown in the third round at Wimbledon, on Court #2, the "Graveyard of Champions." (Just wanted to make this a little more dramatic. Also, in this scenario, Roger is playing at the same time on Centre Court, still trying to win his fourteenth Grand Slam. Mirka doesn’t know who to watch. Oh, the decisions…) The young Mirka-Federer quickly takes the first set off of Jaz Elle Agassi (Graf-Agassi? I’m not sure). However, Jaz’s sick return game gets the best of her opponent in the second set, since her dad taught her a thing or two about that. In the third and final set, the two battle it out to a tiebreaker. And who wins, you ask? If I were a betting woman (and I’m not), I think I’m going with Jaz. Steffi was way better at tennis than Mirka ever was, and Andre was able to win all four Grand Slams, something that I doubt Federer will ever do unless Nadal gets seriously injured. Besides, Jaz needs this one more, since her career is practically over, and Federer’s daughter is just getting started. She’ll have plenty of time to win majors in a couple of years.

And yes, it was intentional that I excluded Pete Sampras and Bridgette Wilson’s sons from this analysis. If Mirka and Roger have a boy, he would be so much better than Sampras’s son, hands down. It doesn’t even warrant any commentary.

New Season, New Blog

Hello, world! Welcome to Dropshots, my new blog on basically anything I care enough to write about. I have to admit, reading the blogs of my friends over at "I'm Really Not Jewish and Other Thoughts" and "An Honest Bro Makes his Own Friends" has inspired me to take the plunge and share my own thoughts with all of you. Right now, "all of you" probably just means Maggie (hey DW!), but perhaps my readership will grow and I'll be able to make more money than Steinberg on AdSense, or get more hits than he does. That's not a challenge, by the way, at least for now, but we'll see where this goes.

In deciding what my pivotal First Post would address, I had my first bout with writer's block in quite some time. These days, I don't write nearly as many papers as I did in college. A year ago, I could have given you a 10- or 15-pager on interesting topics like Japanese religion and the body or the Masculine Mystique in no time. Not anymore, though. Instead, I spend my days crunching numbers in a very nice cubicle, and I typically have between 15 and 20 excel pivot tables open at any given time. More on that later.

Fortunately for you, I was able to come up with a topic as I was running along the Charles this afternoon. It was my first real outdoor run of the spring, since I can't really count my lame attempt at jogging last weekend with DW as a "run." I was in rather poor form due to a certain event on Saturday evening, hosted by two sophisticated gentlemen I know. Needless to say, I didn't make the best running partner, and today I decided I needed to venture out on my own since the weather was too nice to pass up. For me, it is officially spring when I can consistently run outside by the river, and I'm hoping that we have reached that point this year! I was definitely optimistic about my jaunt this afternoon: I was well rested, the sun was shining, and it was *just* warm enough to wear shorts. Things started out well enough, although a few oblivious dog-walkers made my trek on the footbridge over Storrow Drive more difficult than it needed to be. Once I had cleared that hurdle, I was on my way, listening to "Skipping Stones" on my iPod. This was so much better than running on the treadmill after a day in the office, watching the Cash Cab and reading an old issue of Us Weekly. After I spent a couple more songs enjoying the sun, I felt myself fall into the same mentality I had last fall while running the route out to the BU Bridge. First of all, I'll admit that I'm a competitive person. Jogging isn't inherently competitive, but that doesn't mean that I can't make it a rule to myself that I won't let another girl pass me. Men in short shorts, middle-aged women on bikes in bright purple spandex, even roller bladers--they can all pass me and I don't mind, but if a girl passes me I have to admit that I'm not ok with that. I have found that there are usually faster runners at 6:30am than there are on Sunday afternoons, so I was safe for today.

Beyond that, there is so much more to "running on the Charles" than simply getting your recommended 30-60 minutes of exercise in for the day. No, dear reader, this is a complicated setting to navigate, akin to First Floor Berry or FoCo. First of all, let's be honest--it's all about face time. Everyone running out there is checking everyone else out. Shamelessly. At least you're both running in opposite directions so if you do make that awkward eye contact, you can quickly put some distance between yourself and the fit twenty-something guy in the Ivy League t-shirt. In the big scheme of things, though, this doesn't really bother me. If you don't want to be seen when you run, it probably isn't wise to pick one of the most popular running routes in Boston. Besides, it makes things more interesting. What does bother me, though, are the people who take it to the next level. I'm talking about the girls who wear nothing but sports bras and tiny shorts in weather like we had today, and the guys who decided that they were just too sexy for their shirts (I promise you, they were not). I was in a long sleeve t-shirt and probably would have been better off in cropped pants. To each his own, I suppose, but it's just not my style.