Measi's Musings

Archive for the ‘New England’ Category

I’m gonna tell you a story
I’m gonna tell you about my town
I’m gonna tell you a big bad story, baby
Aww, it’s all about my town

Yeah, down by the river
Down by the banks of the river Charles (aw, that’s what’s happenin’ baby)
That’s where you’ll find me
Along with lovers, fuggers, and thieves (aw, but they’re cool people)
Well I love that dirty water
Oh, Boston, you’re my home (oh, you’re the Number One place)
Frustrated women (I mean they’re frustrated)
Have to be in by twelve o’clock (oh, that’s a shame)
But I’m wishin’ and a-hopin, oh
That just once those doors weren’t locked (I like to save time for
my baby to walk around)
Well I love that dirty water
Oh, Boston, you’re my home (oh, yeah)

Because I love that dirty water
Oh, oh, Boston, you’re my home (oh, yeah)

Well, I love that dirty water (I love it, baby)
I love that dirty water (I love Baw-stun)
I love that dirty water (Have you heard about the Strangler?)
I love that dirty water (I’m the man, I’m the man)
I love that dirty water (Owww!)
I love that dirty water (Come on, come on)

YEAH SOX!

Tessie is the Royal Rooters rally cry
Tessie is the tune they always sung
Tessie echoed April through October nights
After serenading Stahl, Dinneen and Young
Tessie is a maiden with a sparkling eye
Tessie is a maiden with a love
She doesn’t know the meaning of her sight
She’s got a comment full of love
And sometimes when the game is on the line
Tessie always carried them away
Up the road from “Third Base” to Huntington
The boys will always sing and sway

Tessie, “Nuf Ced” McGreevey shouted
We’re not here to mess around
Boston, you know we love you madly
Hear the crowd roar to your sound
Don’t blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn’t live without you
Tessie, you are the only only only
Don’t blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn’t live without you
Boston, you are the only only only
Don’t blame us if we ever doubt you
You know we couldn’t live without you
Red Sox, you are the only only only…

7:45 p.m., Sunday, October 21, 2007

I get into my Jeep following the Tau Beta Sigma rush tea to head home. I drive a couple blocks down Beacon Street, and make the U-turn to head back toward Kenmore Square.

As I get closer, the police cruisers, the barricades, and the officers come into view. And then the throngs of people come into view.

And then I hit the bridge – and to my right, the huge floodlights of Fenway Park illuminate my car. My shuffled songs on my iPod reaches Dirty Water, and I crank it as I drive through Kenmore Square, watching the block party that is the area around Kenmore and the Park.

Dammit, Boston is my home, and there’s nothing quite like driving through my home turf a half-hour before the first pitch of Game 7 of the ALCS.

50 minutes later, and I’m on my couch, watching the game.

And life. is. good.

Mel and Erich (in newly purchased garb)
Originally uploaded by measi.

It was a lower-key trip to King Richard’s Faire this week. More people – Matt, Maria, Tricia, and Kevin joined Erich and me. The weather was beautiful. We had a great time – and seemed to spend a heck of a lot more time eating and drinking this time around.

Tricia and Kevin bought themselves full new outfits, so they are now officially well-garbed for the Faire and Halloween festivities. Erich bought a leather poncho (it’s beautiful!!!) that signifies the beginning of his new full Druid idea for the Faire.

I told him that the poncho made him look like a Moonkin from World of Warcraft. (and yes, I did the obligatory Owlbeast waddling run with my elbows slightly pointed out as I called him an Oomkin… fellow WoW players know exactly what I’m talking about… hee!)

But yes – the new garb I bought last weekend was quite comfortable. I kept getting asked by people around the Faire for shopkeep help… apparently I’m now dressed well enough that people think I work at KRF. *snicker*

The rest of the pictures from the two weekends are on my Flickr account (just click on the photo). A lot came out annoyingly dark, though… I need to figure out why I’m so crappy with my camera.

With the wedding insanity now over, the first true event to mark that our lives are returning to normal was our trip to King Richard’s Faire on Sunday. We went along with Maria and Matt, meeting up with Gina and Gabe, who are two of Erich’s college friends, at the faire.

Before the faire, I was dreading the weather report – it said it would be in the upper 70s and sunny. Great normal weather to go anywhere, but when you’re decked out in layers of Renaissance period garb? Eh, not so much.

It turned out to be a comfortable overcast day in the mid-60s, although Erich was a little chilly in his modern punk variant of his formal kilt in a t-shirt. (he looked fabulous though).

After last year’s trip to the faire, I was fully prepared to be seeking out a new bodice for my outfit. The one I’ve had for eight years is too small for me, and the boning that lines the row of grommits is beginning to poke through the top – so I just can’t wear it anymore. I absolutely adore it, too – it’s a rust and forest green tartan, with a red reversable lining (that I’ve never worn on top). Not easy to replace, but I decided that I’d got to my trustworthy Threads of Time, and finally get the bodice that matches what I have. Their prices are fantastic, and the clothes are wonderful and easy to wear. I’m good to go with ideas in hand.

That was before I realized that my overdress from Threads of Time had shrunk last time I washed it, too – and now was sitting a few inches too short in the back. Then again, it also is eight years old.

*sigh*

So now I’m thinking okay- new outfit. I can do this. I’ll work around it. I have a new underskirt in basic black that I bought at Threads last year. I just need a new overskirt, and the new bodice, and I’ll be set. And because this is the faire, being plus-sized isn’t quite as much of a detriment as it can be in other places. Being busty and curvy is a good thing at the faire.

So we go to the faire. And we’re looking around at the shops. Most of the same folks I recognize from last year, but a few new places. Beautiful things as always… most of which I can’t afford.

We head into Moresca, which is the shop that has oodles that I covet, but never can justify purchasing from. And everything always looks too small, so I haven’t bothered. Eh, moo.

And then my eyes fall on a particular bodice – deep blues with black accents in rich brocades. (sample of the style here). It’s an XL, but the shopkeep assures me that my normal 2X sizing on top will translate to this XL (which does look like it will fit me just fine – but I don’t want to deal with the 30 minutes of re-lacing my current bodice post fitting if I can help it). This bodice has lacings on both sides AND the back, so it’s quite flexible with sizing.

Have I mentioned how gorgeous this bodice is? Erich loves it too. But it’s a Moresca bodice, which means it’s about twice what I was planning on paying. I need to sit and think on it over lunch, even though I’m coveting it dearly.

Erich points out over lunch that we do have wedding money, and that I can indulge if I want to. It doesn’t take much to twist my arm at all.

Right after lunch, we head right back and I buy it.

We collect a couple other things along the way during the day – a new leather belt for me and a

Then I need new skirts to match the color scheme. I find lovely ones in the same deep blue and a pretty moss green (for a brighter top offset) in rough silk at Threads of Time that are just wonderful to the touch. I buy both of those. Nice offset texture, nice soothing colors that I prefer to wear.

And best of all? My outfit’s ready for this upcoming weekend’s return trip to the Faire.

Rock.

(and yes, there will be pics)

Last night, I drove back to Boston after a weekend of couch-lounging, storage box sorting, and general slackerdom.

I dropped her off, and then headed back to Cleveland Circle in Brookline to grab a dinner burrito at Boloco. (because I don’t eat there enough during my workweek already). Munched it down, gave Erich a call on my cell, checked my messages (one from from Friday… *sigh* no, I’m horrid with my cell phone), texted her back, cranked my “dance mix” on my iPod, and started to head home.

By taking a right back onto Chestnut Hill Ave, and then a right onto Comm Ave.

No idea why – but that just felt like the right way. Okay. I recognize those weird little “don’t know why…” thoughts, and entertained them.

Windows down, music thumping, I drove my way down Comm Ave – swinging by the old apartment on Egremont. Then I continued back down Comm Ave., passing by Hamilton House Hell – now private apartments instead of a BU dorm. Through campus- where life was VERY active with the students who had just returned this weekend. Then by Warren Towers, where I spent two odd dorm years. Through Kenmore Square, which looks nothing like it did when I was a student. Down through the back swing of the Fenway, to St. Botolph Street, to the dead end street, and I stopped…

Got out of the car, and looked up at The Beast for just a bit.

The lights weren’t on, but there are colorful drapes in the windows. And there was a cat, resembling how Colley would sprawl, enjoying the beautiful evening weather in the kitchenette window.

And that’s where I lost it. Really, honest to god lost it. I sat on the wall where I’d brought Colley so many times to explore outside, and released them.

Holy crap, I’m getting married. Three weeks from today, I will be married, starting a new life (which isn’t much different than my current life, yet I know it’ll be entirely different). The crying, the depression, the loneliness, the thoughts of ending everything in that one room apartment – all in the past. So far in the past, so foreign.

If you’d asked me seven, eight, nine years ago that I’d have sat there last night, staring up at that three-windowed apartment with a little fear, a little melancholy, a little pride, and then a really fucking huge smile, I’d have laughed insanely at you and told you off. I was the one who would never find someone. I was doomed to be a miserable nerd loner for the rest of my life.

It’s a bit overwhelming, honestly.

you make the 7:12 train from Providence, only to have it stop about two miles up the track. Ten minutes later, the conductor says that we’re going back to Providence station because the Pawtucket police are investigating a fatality on the track and have shut all tracks down.

And… the conductor urges us to find “a different way to get to our destinations.”

*blink*

When the MBTA is actually admitting to find another way in, everything is completely, utterly screwed. And that’s the indication that you know you’re going to have a morning.

Although not the MBTA’s fault today. Not remotely.

And on top of that, the irony is that I left the house a half hour earlier this morning than I did yesterday… and had debated driving to Quincy to take the red line today, rather than deal with the Providence parking situation (which translates to parking at Providence Place Mall, which is $17 for the day, with no way to get my car out of hock before 10 a.m. because there are no tellers at the payment windows until then).

*snort*

Officially? I was an hour late today, as I was scheduled to open the office – Erich had thankfully not yet left the house, swung by, picked me up, and drove me to Norwood (because I was not going to Route 128 today with everyone else on the entire Providence to Boston line to pick up the Stoughton train).

But according to my normal starting time at work (9:15), I was only 15 minutes late. So by sheer coincidence, I’ve found an emergency back-station (as opposed to back-route) to get to work relatively easily. This is good.

My accomplishments this weekend:

1) Wedding invites are DONE (save two that we need new addresses for). All addressed, all compiled, all stamped. They go out tomorrow.

2) The Linens ‘n Things portion of our wedding registry is populated. I feel like such a mooch. But I have to admit to being excited that I may actually get some of these things and finally break free of college decor-itis. Somewhat, anyway.

3) Laundry – ongoing. I’m on load 3. One more load of towels, and then a mini-load of delicates to go.

4) Erich and his dad put together our guest room bed (yes, … an actual bed. With a headboard and footboard and everything!). Unfortunately, the Queen-sized boxspring will NOT go up our stairs. We removed the back staircase pole. We removed the front staircase ceiling molding. Won’t happen. So… if you’re in the general southern New England area and need a Queen boxspring (now or in the near future), lemme know. We’re going to have to go purchase a split-style boxspring for the Queen bed. Depending on how that goes, we may have a mismatched mattress shortly, too. We can make arrangements somehow.

5) We narrowed our wedding ring decision down to five different bands. We’ve decided to get matching bands, rather than the newer trend of getting ones that each person likes. Thankfully, we both have similar tastes, so it’s been fairly easy. Choices we’re down to now are: A, B (possibly in the rose/white combo), C, D, or E (not bicolor).

6) Saw Harry Potter: OotP again today. It was Erich’s Dad’s 64th birthday today, so we treated him to a heavy breakfast at the Cracker Barrel, followed by the movie.

It was better on second viewing. Still not my favorite, but I did like it better this time around.

7) Attended the wedding of Erich’s cousin, Katy, and her (now) husband, David. It was at Sakonnet Vineyards in Little Compton, RI. Lovely place. Definitely a setting I’d recommend to anyone looking for peaceful New England space – near the water, surrounded by the vines. Although it was a bit buggy in the evening (welcome to July). Otherwise, weather was incredible for July – absolutely perfect. I can only hope we have such good weather in September.

Went a little snarky with Doctor Who fandom. But I’m better now and moving on.

Good weekend. Definitely can’t complain!

Anyone who has gone to Boston University in the last fifteen years probably has had at least one amusing encounter with some of the mainstays – but completely harmless – street folk around Harvard Avenue, Harvard Square, or Kenmore Square. Some of them are colorful characters that you forget about later, except when a college story of old comes up.

And now one of the better ones has died…

Street icon ‘Mr. Butch’ dies at 56
Scooter crash claims popular homeless man

By Bryan Marquard, Globe Staff | July 12, 2007

Dreadlocked, homeless, and usually cheerful, Mr. Butch was an iconic presence in Kenmore Square for years before moving his base of operations to Harvard Avenue in Allston a decade ago. Ranting in rhyme with a beer in hand — a tall boy, preferably — he would panhandle one minute and offer to share his take with a friend the next.

‘‘Mr. Butch,’’ whose name was Harold Madison Jr., died yesterday of injuries from an early morning crash when the motor scooter he was driving hit a pole, friends and family said.
The subject of YouTube videos, a MySpace tribute page, and a Wikipedia entry, Mr. Butch may have been the most famous street person in Boston. He was so popular that The Boston Phoenix wrote in April that it was considering changing the criteria of the ‘‘Readers’ Pick: Neighborhood Character’’ category because Mr. Butch won so regularly.
At 56, he had lived on Boston’s streets for about 30 years. In Kenmore Square and his Allston neighborhood — areas rife with college students and people who prefer less traditional approaches to life — some saw in Mr. Butch a latter-day Thoreau, a man who chose a path that didn’t involve taxes, rent, or office cubicles. Instead, he helped the elderly cross streets, joyously played air guitar, philosophized, and sang.
‘‘He’s been in so many local movies, videos, in the Phoenix — he’s like an icon of the neighborhood,’’ said Erin Scott, manager of New England Comics on Harvard Avenue in Allston.

‘‘He was just the sweetest, nicest homeless person — he looked out for people,’’ said Toni Fanning, who owns the Ritual Arts store nearby. ‘‘I’ll tell you, this whole street is just miserable right now. Everybody just doesn’t want to believe it. It’s so hard to talk about Butch in any kind of past tense.’’
In a YouTube video posted on Mr. Butch’s MySpace page, he offered a buoyant view on how to live: ‘‘You got to be articulate every day and keep going on strong and straight and use your heart and all your might and all your weight and all your power. Do what you can, make it last for many hour, ’cause once you’re dead, you’re done, you don’t come back,’’ he rapped, pausing before adding, ‘‘Yeah.’’
Fanning’s favorite encounter with Mr. Butch was on Easter a few years ago. When she left home to visit a friend who was in bad straits, she was depressed about her friend, the day — just everything.
‘‘And I walked outside and there was Butch standing on the corner of Harvard and Comm. Ave. with a big sandwich board that said, ‘I need weed,’’’ Fanning said. ‘‘I started laughing so hard that it got me through that entire day.’’
Mr. Butch was not timid about his pastimes: drinking beer and smoking marijuana. And he could be irascible. He was a tall and slender man, and the stoop of his shoulders signaled his level of intoxication. Unwelcome as Kenmore Square began tidying up its act, Mr. Butch left, telling friends that encounters with police officers had become too frequent.
Allston proved more tolerant.
‘‘I’m just devastated,’’ said Jerry Katz, a lawyer whose offices are along Harvard Avenue. ‘‘Everyone loved Mr. Butch. I loved Mr. Butch.’’
Though thousands of passersby made his acquaintance through the years, few knew much about Mr. Butch’s background. Born in Worcester, he grew up in a large family. His father, Harold Sr., dubbed him Butch.
A talented drummer, he sat in with bands and played with a mentor in the local music scene, picking up the guitar in his midteens and filling a closet with percussion instruments he made from items he found. He did not finish high school and moved to Kenmore Square in the 1970s when Worcester became inhospitable to his frequent drinking.
‘‘I think he was just looking for someplace to be accepted,’’ said his sister Jeannette Madison of Worcester. ‘‘He told us that this was the life that he chose — a street person, happy-go-lucky, panhandler. I guess for him that was easier, and it didn’t take very long for people to understand what he was doing and just take it with a grain of salt.
‘‘People are who they choose to be.’’
In addition to Jeannette, he has four siblings in Worcester — Russell, Phillip, Jeffrey, and Sheila — and a brother, Alphonso Moore, of Henderson, Nev. His mother, Virginia, died in December; his father died in 1974.
Mr. Butch played on the fringe of Boston’s music scene for years. Friends tried to get him into subsidized housing, but he refused to go through the required detoxification treatments. Recently, he lived in a van friends helped him acquire.
Trusted friends became his ‘‘banks,’’ holding onto his money and storing his belongings. Mr. Butch’s thee-quarter-length leather coat, with his name in white and red letters on the back, was displayed last night in the window of Regeneration Tattoo on Harvard Avenue as a tribute.
‘‘It kind of blows my mind that he isn’t here,’’ Scott said. ‘‘I have his guitar in my back room. I have a buck in his bank.’’
Friends plan to meet Monday at 8 p.m. at Regeneration Tattoo and Ritual Arts for a memorial, said Sue Jeiven, owner of Regeneration Tattoo.
‘‘He always wanted a big blowout for his funeral. He said: ‘Blow a lot of money. I want a big party,’’’ she said.
A favorite among many students and professors, Mr. Butch was once asked to speak at Boston College. Proud of the moment, he sent his siblings a photo of himself lecturing in front of the classroom.
‘‘I feel like he had a lot to say and there were a lot of people who actually wanted to listen,’’ his sister said. ‘‘And I thank the Lord for that. And I thank the Lord that Butch is in his hands now.’’

I was so afraid of him for the better part of college – but one night junior year of college, I was storming around Kenmore in a rage one night sometime around 3 or 4 a.m. He followed me, wouldn’t let me keep storming around. I don’t even remember why I was so angry, but I remember sitting on the stoop at Planet Records with him as the sun came up, just talking with him. I guess he just had the knack to know who needed someone to talk to.

Oddly probably one of the biggest eye-opening nights I had in college about the world around me.

I definitely won’t forget him.

To sum up, before I go into detail… I had an absolute blast last night. It was nearly everything I could have hoped for.

Wednesday evening was one of those blessed nights in Boston – the weather was absolutely perfect. Low 70s, no humidity, a light breeze. Picture-perfect late spring evening to stroll through the streets of Boston. Once Erich met me at Back Bay station, we walked through the park toward Symphony Hall, through my old neighborhood where The Beast apartment still stands quietly. I’d forgotten how much I loved that walk through the Southwest Corridor park, passing the doggies at play in the fenced-in dog playground, past all the kids playing in the playground and basketball courts along West Newton Street.

And I’d forgotten how beautiful St. Botolph Street truly is in the springtime – all of the tiny little gardens were in bloom. Everything was much greener and more lush than I remember it. The new brick sidewalks add a richer feel to the neighborhood. It looks older, more distinguished. I felt a brief sadness for leaving it behind, even if the life that I’m leading now makes me incredibly happy. I won’t lie – I do miss my old Boston neighborhood. Had I not met Erich, I imagine I’d probably still be living in that little studio apartment on Blackwood Street, cozily holed up in that single room flat and teeny tiny galley kitchen, but with a glorious bay window that I spent so many hours sitting in, watching the world go by. I’d still be comfortable there, living in the amazingly quiet spot only blocks from two of the busiest streets in the city.

But we didn’t stop by the old apartment – I just took a glance down the street as we walked by. We were on a mission for a quick dinner before hitting the theatre, and the closest place was Boston Market… mmmm… rotisserie chicken. Which was, of course, quite yummy and not at all concert-going elegant, but perfect for us.

(I should note…the photos are not mine from last night – we forgot our cameras. Erich took a couple of interior shots on his cell phone, though, so maybe they’ll be good enough to post later)

We arrived at Symphony Hall around 7 p.m., picked up our tickets at the box office, and headed inside. The first thing you notice about Symphony Hall is that it’s very different than the typical classical arts theater. Symphony Hall is rectangular – an actual hall. It reminds me of a royal court – with two tiers of narrow balconies wrapping around three sides, all focused upon the stage at the front.

The hall smells of history – that wonderful old smell of varnished wood, musty from years of patrons, and the slightly stronger smell of aged leather. The seats are the original from when the hall was built; hard wooden plank seats that pull down, not unlike the wooden planks in older high school auditoriums, but covered in a thin layer of leather and brass bolted to the frame. And, considering the era that the hall was built, they’re surprisingly wide and comfortable for the modern American body. Perhaps it was to accommodate the heavy skirts of the Guilded Age… *grin*

There are literally NO bad seats in Symphony Hall – the entire building was designed with acoustics in mind, down to having only a few narrow rows in the balconies to prevent trapped sound. In fact, it’s considered as one of the top concert halls in the world. And I’d forgotten how incredible the acoustics are, until I heard the definition of the oboe softly playing among the orchestra’s strings. No instrument gets lost. Our seats were first balcony, center section (but a bit off to the left) – two rows in, back in a romantic little nook with narrow wooden steps to get to our seats.

And at 8, the lights dimmed and the fun began. John Williams took the stage, and my inner band geek was all asquee.

The opener was a piece called “Fanfare for a Festive Occasion” by Williams. It was my least favorite – mostly because it just sounded a bit discordant, honestly. But I’d never heard the piece before. *shrug* No matter. I knew what was coming up.

Boston Pops concerts follow a specific format – three music portions (each usually themed), wrapped around two fairly brief intermissions.

The first portion of the program was titled “A Tribute to Bernard Herrmann.”

The set:
The Inquirer, from Citizen Kane
Scene d’amour, from Vertigo
Suite from Psycho
Prelude from North by Northwest

Suite from Psycho was, by far, my favorite of this set – the hall lights darkened, a movie screen was lowered, and the opening drive scene to the Bates Hotel – followed by the infamous shower scene – was played silent movie style as the orchestra played.

Very very cool.

The Prelude from North by Northest also was accompanied by a movie reel – a montage of Hitchcock movies, including The Man Who Knew Too Much, Vertigo, The Birds, and of course… North by Northwest.’

We then moved to the first intermission.

The second portion of the program was titled “From Broadway to Hollywood.” And that’s exactly what it was.

The Set:
Hooray for Hollywood (Whiting/Mercer, arr. Williams)
Carousel Waltz (Rogers)
Exerpts from Fiddler on the Roof (Bock/Harnick, arr. Williams)
All that Jazz, from Chicago (Kander/Ebb, arr. Williams)

Hooray for Hollywood immediately made me flash to Mel Brooks entering Caeser’s Palace in History of the World Part 1, because it’s the song from that very scene.

The waltz was lovely.

I found myself silently singing along with any of the words I knew from the various songs within the Fiddler on the Roof suite. Tamara Smirnova, the principle chair first violin, had a beautiful solo. Absolutely wonderful.

And All That Jazz is just one of those pieces that has to be a blast to play. Brass instruments having entirely too much fun with mutes. Slides all over the place. Seriously… it’s Chicago, which is has a score that I drool over as a musician. I envied them.

And we went into the second intermission, where Erich and I popped out of the main hall for a quick drink and a breather. It was quite warm in the main hall by this time (no a/c, after all).

AND… then we got to the part of the evening that I absolutely reveled in.

Part Three: “At the Movies”

the set:
March from Superman (Williams)

Three Pieces from Harry Potter (Williams)
- Fawkes the Phoenix
- Nimbus 2000
- Harry’s Wonderous World

A Tribute to George Lucas and Steven Spielberg (Williams)
- Opener to Jaws
- Star Wars Main Theme
- Raiders March from Raiders of the Lost Ark
- Main Theme, E.T.

Oh yes… *gleams*

The only, and I mean ONLY thing that could have made me even more happy with the Superman theme would be to hear the incredible opening fanfare titled “The Planet Krypton” which chills my spine any time I listen to it and the sound of the brass gets gloriously fuller and brighter. But yes… the main theme from Superman by itself is fantastic. A poor trumpet had a fudged note (and there were a few collective gasps of empathy in the crowd – trumpet players, perhaps?), but carried right on as if nothing happened.

I cuddled up to Erich’s shoulder during the Harry Potter set, all cozy. For viewers not familiar with these pieces on their own… Fawkes the Phoenix is the piece from the end of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, where Fawkes pulls Harry, Ginny, and Professor Lockhart into the sky. Nimbus 2000 is a little woodwind piece that you hear off-and-on throughout the movie series. Harry’s Wonderful World is the big sweeping piece that starts with the main theme, and just rolls through all of the discovery in Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s (aka Sorcerer’s) Stone.

And then the movie screen lowered again… and we saw a familiar solitary female swimmer in the ocean, viewed from under the water as she kicked lazily.

And we heard a “dun-DUN”

And there were chuckles from all over the hall.

Now…

It really only takes two notes to recognize the theme from Jaws, doesn’t it? I think that’s what’s so remarkable about Williams’ music. Yes, I realize he steals bits and pieces from everywhere. Yes, I realize there are a ton of critics out there.

But seriously – there’s something to be said for themes that are so incredibly recognizable with only the first few notes… Jaws, Star Wars, the end scene from Close Encounters of the Third Kind, E.T., the opening theme from Home Alone… and yes… Harry Potter. Take a look at the list.

The montage of Lucas/Spielberg movie magic continued into Star Wars, which of course received tremendous cheers as clips of all six movies flashed across the screen. Followed by Raiders, and a montage of all three movies. Lots of chuckles as the “gun scenes” with Indy and the local villagers flashed in sequence. And then the music soared with the main theme to E.T., with clips of a now waaaaay too young Drew Barrymore screaming as she meets the little alien.

Ah yes, it was glorious. The only piece that would have made the montage truly complete for me would have been to see a gigantic spaceship rise up over Devil’s Monument with the big five note motif that runs through Close Encounters of the Third Kind, one of the first movies I ever saw (Star Wars, in the theater at age two – which I do in fact remember with only one scene in flashback – was the first).

Of course, standing ovation across the house. And Williams milked it – as well he should.

He came back out for encores:

Luke and Leia Theme from Empire Strikes Back (Williams)
NBC Nightly News “Mission” theme (Williams)

Williams made a joke about the “love” theme that is Luke and Leia – written before the world knew they were siblings (whoops). He also remarked that he’s waiting for the “slow news day” when NBC News actually plays the entire theme he wrote for them (you can hear a good portion of it in the end credits for the program).

And then, as is traditional with the Boston Pops – the evening ended with Souza’s Stars and Stripes Forever as the audience clapped along. And for a while, Williams had to conduct the audience to keep proper time. The American flag unfurled at the end (also tradition) to the roar of the crowd. And once the applause had died off, we returned to the glorious springtime evening weather and headed home.

Life accomplishment checked off my list – in amazing style.

This requires a story. Which makes for the best blog entries, right?

O-kay.

So, I’m chugging over to the train station after work today, running a bit later than I normally do, but I still have a comfortable 15 minutes to make the 4 block walk. My iPod is cranking, and I clear the walk in just over 5 minutes – about what I normally do.

What I *don’t* normally do is grab a copy of the Metro. It’s a little too McPaper for me normally. But I was in the mood for a Sudoku on the way home. It’s free. And the hawker was being ignored, so I decided to give him a bit of love and take one.

Get in the station – the train’s already boarding. So I head on out, walk the entire length of the train to the first car (where I’m guaranteed to get a single seat for my hour ride home), plunk down, and open the paper.

I skim the paper before the train leaves, and come to the page of entertainment listings for the Boston metro area. And I see a picture. And realize – it is, in fact, that time of year… and maybe if I’m really, really lucky… this year will be my year. And I make a mental note to talk to Erich when I get home.

Which I do immediately upon entering the car at the Providence train station. And Erich likes the idea. And says “sure… it’ll be our sixth anniversary outing.”

Six years. Shocking.

But yeah… I still feel lucky.

So we go home. And I go upstairs, credit card in hand.

Try for our original plan – Thursday night. No dice. No tickets available for two people. Friday? Nope. Now I have to double-check with Erich, as Wednesday is a sacred gaming night between he and the guys. Erich says yes, since there’s no other choice – and it is a rather special occasion.

I luck out. Two tickets. First balcony center at Symphony Hall. $100 for the pair, night before show. Perfect. Click, buy – YAY!

To see John Williams conduct the Boston Pops.

Now – I’ve dreamed of attending a Pops concert when John Williams was conducting since I moved to Boston in 1993. He usually only conducts a handful of concerts around Memorial Day. Some years (*cough* Star Wars) he hasn’t conducted due to his composing schedule. I played Williams’ music in high school band – we played the Overture to The Cowboys, a piece that’s a bit lost to the annals of film, perhaps. But I love the piece.

And of course, I’m a geek. I’m a band geek. And he composed Star Wars. And Jaws. And Raiders of the Lost Ark. And Harry Potter. And well… a crapload of other stuff.

And by complete, sheer luck – THAT is what he’s conducting tomorrow night. His own compositions, including several from the new Harry Potter movie coming out this summer.

I. Cannot. Wait.

And one of the big things that I had on my personal “Must Do In My Lifetime” checklist can now be crossed off.

*bounce*

Spring arrived quickly this weekend. Trees that were barely more than dead sticks at this time last week – hell, last Friday even – are now covered in blooms or the light green that only comes with newborn leaves. The magnolia trees opened in two days – I’m honestly not sure where the hell they came from. And the forsythia are absolutely amazing this year after days of rain to give them some added oomph.

It was an absolutely beautiful weekend here in New England. Mid 60′s to low 70′s, cloudless skies, light breezes. Erich and I opened up every window that has working pulley strings to let the house air out. We’ve slept with the windows open, and save a couple of nights, will continue to do so now until oh, late September or so.

We’ll be going back over to Lowes to buy new grass seed – I imagine that everything Erich spread last Saturday is long gone, thanks to the Nor’Easter last week. He’s convinced it all washed into the garage. I’m also itching to buy plants for my outdoor pots, but I know that I need to wait maybe two more weeks. Come May, the risk of overnight freeze will finally be over. Especially with how weird this year was. And honestly, the selection of pansies, pansies, and more pansies don’t appeal to me all that much.

A landscaper came out Sunday to give us a second estimate on our yardwork that needs to be done. His evaluation of the yard was much more thorough, and involved pulling down 14 of the 16 maple trees along our side yard. Erich and I have talked about having them removed for the better part of a year anyway – we keep losing major branches from them (suggesting that they’re diseased). They’re not the pretty maples that turn red – they’re scraggly, honestly. The landscaper pointed out to Erich that they had insect infestations – woodpeckers all over them and such. We’d be able to keep a couple of them, plus the linden tree at the corner. It makes me a bit sad to pull them, but in reality – they don’t look good, and if they’re diseased trees, we really should remove them to prevent the damage from spreading further.

And it’s not like we won’t plant new trees, of course. I’d love to add a magnolia or other flowering tree to the yard. And we’re already planning on planting at least a couple Japanese maples because they’re just so pretty and delicate. A few trees to add some texture to the yard will go a long way to make it prettier.

Ultimately, I just want to create a yard that looks pretty, doesn’t look too organized or landscaped, and fits the house. The Japanese maples are probably the only real trendy tree that I’d add. I’d love to include a lot of older, more traditional plants in that fit the house, too – one or two additional hydrangeas, bleeding hearts, spring bulbs (tulips, crocus, daffodils), etc. Preferably things that do need some care, but not constant maintenance to keep them going strong.

Any ideas of other things to include?

This 60′s temperatures in January and 30′s temps in April thing has got to go. Seriously. I’m tired of having to crank the heat up every night because it’s below freezing.

It’s mid-April, Mother Nature… we should have some leaves coming out on trees. And I’d like to see some flowers other than the hardcore weeds that are the plant world’s version of cockroaches.

*sigh*

It’s positively gloomy outside. It’s one of those Stephen King Maine weather days– that completely grey, foggy day where every object in the distance looms only as a slightly defined shadow. It’s been this way since Saturday evening, by the way. *sigh* It’s starting to get to me. I’m in serious spring flower and warmth withdrawl. At this point, I actually WANT to deal with my spring allergies, just to proclaim that yes, the weather is in fact beautiful. I’ll sniffle and snort around the house all day. May my eyes and nose water – if it’s 65 degrees and sunny, I’ll take it. (well… for a few hours before I kick in the Sudafed, at least *grin*).

I’m still surprised that the men’s winner of the Boston Marathon on Monday managed to defend his title – a course-breaking time last year – by only adding 7 minutes to his time while running in a Nor’Easter. Call me damned impressed.

Despite the weather, it was a productive weekend. I got a lot done in my office – it’s not complete, but well on the way to getting there. I simply had to stop due to the dust we were kicking up. We also bought grass seed to fill in our ragged lawn – Erich spread it on Saturday afternoon, but I’m fairly certain that the rain washed it all away and we’ll have to do it again. *sigh* I got my taxes mailed off, the last of the Save the Dates mailed off, my final contribution to a stitching Round Robin mailed off, and we bought a new vaccuum cleaner so we can attack the springtime edition of catfur tumbleweeds that plague our house in earnest. I caught up on all of the house laundry. I still have a few of the dreaded pots that need Serious Scrubbing ™ to finish (I’ve had them on “long term soak” for way too long now).

I also did six hours of stitching on Apache Wedding Blessing on Monday, thanks to the craptastic weather. I watched the Doctor Who episode which broke the number of episodes Guinness record, AND… I managed to write about 10,000 words in fanfic on Saturday, aided in part by a goodly dose of Tattoo rum and cokes to loosen me up.

All in all, a good three day weekend.

For some reason, I’m a bit tired. But feeling quite good.

Plans tonight? Erich’s playing Halo 2 online with the guys because two new maps were released last night. I’ll be upstairs stitching and being a fangirl celebrating David Tennant’s birthday with… something he’s been in.

Maybe I’ll go the Harry Potter route tonight…

This whole Pats giving its fans a heart attack during the post-season is getting old.

My fingers really, really hurt from chomping on my nails for the past 45 minutes or so.

Damn…

*thud*

Great game. Sloppy on both sides, but great game.

The sun is partly hidden. The skies are debating whether to clear or stay in that half-fog haziness that keeps everything feeling just a bit damp. The winds on the seaport are light, giving just a bit of a breeze to freshen the air every few minutes. It’s just shy of 70 degrees- absolutely delightful weather.

No one has a coat on.

In Boston.

On November 30th.

If I didn’t know better, I’d argue that I’m now working in San Francisco. The recent weather reminds me so much of the December weather in the Bay Area as I’d visit my mother for the holidays. Coming from a Rocky Mountain upbringing, to be able to go outside in a t-shirt and jeans on Christmas was such a novelty.

The same novelty applies in New England. Usually this time of year I’m swearing as I try to find where my mittens have run off to during the overnight hours. I’m shivering as I wait on the concrete platform for the train, wincing as that blast of air hits me as the train rolls into the station. And walking through Boston in late November to early December? It’s painful. The street planners made Boston a fantastic wind tunnel. In fact, it’s the windiest major city in the United States. During the winter, residents are reminded of this fact every day as they trudge to work.

Yet the night of November 30th, it was absolutely beautiful. It was downright springlike.

As Erich and I settled down to bed, we watched the Weather Channel to get the morning’s forecast. I knew a big thunderstorm was making its way east, and wanted a sense of what time it would hit. At only a couple minutes to midnight, it was 62 degrees with a low of something high 50s.

We slept with our bedroom windows wide open to catch the breezes. On November 30th.

It doesn’t get much better.