days 10-17

I wrote this yesterday but didn't post due to spotty internet:


Just to play quick catchup, the past week went pretty fast. I didn't run at all. I spent the beginning of the week trying to get ready for my trip. Wednesday night I flew to Richmond. My plane was scheduled to leave at 7:30pm. Wednesday night was the freak tornado in Springfield, MA. My plane was delayed and didn't leave until after midnight. I ran into Rachel Givens in the airport and we talked on and off over the long wait. She was having a bad day, and I felt increasingly sorry for her as the departure time kept changing. 


Over our wait I made friends with the two middle-aged men sitting across from me. They live near Pony Pasture. One was a social worker and the other did employee training. They flew through Boston to attend a family reunion in Maine. The one from Maine moved to Richmond in the 70's to get his masters at VCU. He said he was really prejudiced against the South, but he ended up loving Richmond and he never left. The other guy was from Roanoke. He moved to Richmond on his way to DC ("the big city"). They said they'd both lived in Richmond 30 years now. They told me they're going to Dubai in the fall. The one who does employee training has to fly to Oman for work.

I liked this one because I also like to play themed games.

Someone boasted that they used all 144 tiles. Notice how they spelled "zoo."

My Virginia trip went by fast. I played a lot of bananagrams. My family is really competitive with word games, and this is no exception. More than winning, I think its important to play a beautiful game. If I get a "z" I will never make the word "zoo." I don't want to win if I have to spell "zoo" to do it. There were a lot of lovely words played over the course of four days. I spelled "Jacobean" but was thrown out on my use of a proper noun. If I were being honest, I would also say that I spelled it wrong: "Jacobian." I also used "theophany" but I can't remember anything else. There was a little bit of controversy over whether we were allowing foreign words. Jaime spelled "qi." I have no idea what that is, but she said "if I played Scrabble, I would know it." 

This is Tessa.

Tessa, Jaime's 2-year-old daughter, entertained me most of the weekend. Before I flew in she kept calling Lauren "Courtney" by mistake. The entire time I was there she called me "the real Courtney." 

Mickael 

M&B

Before I left on Sunday I went over to see Mike and Brionna. They have a house off of Hermitage Rd. I can't remember what we talked about, but it was easy and comfortable. M&B are inclusive. The kind of people you've known your whole life and will know your whole life. I've known them almost as long as I've known Quinn. They told me stories about Quinn in high school: how he threw an orange at Brionna's sister boyfriend's head and how Brionna called him at Victors (a pizza place Quinn worked at in Northern Virginia) to tell him off for being so mean. She said he said, "sorry, sorry, sorry" and she said, "i'll see you tomorrow." 


Sunday night I had dinner with Mike & Sarah Moore. We went to high school together. They got married last summer and live two streets over from M&B, but they don't know one another. It was nice seeing old friends. Lauren Stewart was there and a few people I'd never met. The things I remember about them were the same: how they're light-hearted and easy to laugh with. Still, it was kind of weird. I haven't seen them since my wedding and friendships are different when you don't know the details of one another's lives. I wonder if I'll ever live in Richmond again. I wrote in my diaryland that I'd always planned to move home, but the city wasn't big enough for me anymore.


I flew back from Virginia this morning. My plane left at 6:50 am and we touched down in Boston by 8:30. The plane ride was fine except a woman sat next to me. In theory I enjoy people, but theories have holes. The arm rest to my seat was up, and when the woman sat down we were touching. She edged into my seat, and I felt possessive, almost territorial over my space. There was no polite way to shove the arm rest down. I felt like I had to avoid her the entire ride.


When we landed I took the airport shuttle to the blue line, rode the blue line to Government Center, transfered to the green line until it ended at North Station and rode the shuttle bus to Lechmere. That's an awful lot of transferring when the airport's only 4 miles away. I walked in the door by 9:00 am and couldn't find my cat. He hides during the day. I unpacked my clothes. I feel asleep in my oddly clean apartment and woke up again at 11. The cat was laying on my arm. I was on the bus by 11:15 and ate at the cafeteria in my building before work at noon. They have great salads but they charge by weight. They should charge by container size like Devon & Blakely, a sandwich shop in DC. When I worked on 14th street (oddly enough in the building above Borders, the building where Mark Twain wrote Innocents Abroad) I ate at Devon & Blakely weekly.





Work was busy. I spent all afternoon playing catchup for missing Thursday and Friday. I'm 90% caught up. I didn't take a break. I have to regulate myself or I won't take breaks. There's never a good time to stop. 


After work I went to Trader Joes. Before moving here I thought Trader Joes only sold novelty food (chocolate covered cherries! Ice cream mochi balls!) but now I'm addicted. I bought blueberries and butternut squash triangoli. Triangoli is a triangle pasta. I think the name might take itself too seriously.


On the way home from grocery shopping I rode the T back to North Station. The city is filled with Bruins jerseys tonight. It's been years since the Bruins were in the Stanley Cup so it's a big deal. I don't follow hockey, but I piggyback on the city's euphoria. On the train home I tried to imagine myself as a serious hockey fan. I imagined myself as a season ticket holder, dressed in team gear and going to all the games. In my imagination I was wondering what I would do if I didn't want to go to a game because I was in the middle of a book. My imagination sucks.

days 7-9

I fell a little behind, but i'll hurry to catch up. 


Friday night I rode the red line to Harvard to go to Outstitute. In contrast to Institute, which is a Mormon church-sponsored education program where college-age students take classes on scriptures and church doctrine, "Outstitute" is a small, informal discussion group created by a couple of friends who wanted another venue to talk about church history, Mormon scholarship, and Mormon culture. Usually discussions are topical based on readings assigned for each meeting. This past week we read the introduction to an unpublished book about Mormon theology written by particle physicists. In very loose terms we talked about spirit as matter and the Mormon belief that God has a physical body. The conversation de-railed a little bit into psychology (a discussion of Robert Kegan's developmental stages and what means to be self-authoring), but it was all interesting.


After Outstitute I walked with Lisa to Ivaloo St. and watched an episode of Bored to Death, an HBO comedy about a writer who becomes a private detective. In the episode I watched Jason Schwartzman, the writer, is hired to help a middle-aged man who is being blackmailed. The whole show is pretty quirky, but Ted Danzen is fantastic. It would be worth watching just to see Ted Danzen's character.


I came home around 11pm and got a phone call from my friend Chaunte. She planned to come this weekend, but for some reason I thought she was coming on Saturday night. Anyway, I got her phone call and realized she was just getting on a bus in Manhattan and would be in Boston around 4am. In a classic act of social posturing, I went into whirlwind cleaning mode. I cleaned the stove, the bathroom, the living room, and our bedroom. I changed the sheets, I changed the towels, I put away the piles of winter clothes that were staked out on our coffee table ... I basically built the illusion that we are neat people.


Chaunte called at 4 and said that two friends from New York were going camping in Maine, and wondered if they could sleep over until their friends picked them up later that morning. I never mind having people, so a little after four three very tired New Yorkers showed up on my doorstep, and I put them all to bed.


Saturday morning the two boys in my living room left to go camping, Chaunte slept in, and I went over to Bonnie's house to help her paint her ceiling. I stayed until noon and ran back home to meet up with Chaunte. We went to brunch at Sweet Touch and put together an elaborate scheme to make birthday T-shirts for Max's surprise party. Max was under the false impression that we were going to meet him to see the movie Bridesmaids, but instead Betty lured him to a park where a bunch of friends gathered to surprise him. I talked to Max about it later, and he said his first thought was, "Why are all of our friends here? It's so weird that they were getting together so close to our house and they didn't even invite us." 

Saturday night I fell asleep sitting on the Seawright's couch. Dan and Lisa drove me home. When Chaunte came in a few hours later we watched Whip It on the couch and danced like ballerinas in the living room. 


On Sunday I walked Chaunte to the T and went to church. I was a little late, but I'll never tell how late. Our friends Marina and Christian are moving to California tomorrow, so I was happy I got to say goodbye to them. Marina got a residency outside of Los Angeles and they head west to the warmer coast. I'm sorry to see them go. You couldn't ask for better company.


After church I came home and played my guitar. I've been too lazy to feed myself with Quinn gone so i ate watermelon and later chips. I have a slide for my guitar that I never use so I learned a song with slide in it. Interestingly enough, it was weird using the slide (maybe I'm not comfortable with it) so I just did the slide with my fingers and it worked out fine. Max, Elizabeth and Chaunte came over in the late afternoon. We talked for a minute before Chaunte caught her bus home. Max and Elizabeth were interested in the controversy over Philip Roth winning the Man Booker prize. Elizabeth couldn't believe he'd won because he wasn't British. Max said, but an Indian man won, and Elizabeth said, but India was a British colony, to which Max said.... so was America. I couldn't stop laughing. Max has been so funny these past few weeks. And also very sweet. He told Chaunte and I how great he thought his wife was.


I went upstairs to another potluck for dinner and read stories to Soren in an armchair. I once wrote about the years spreading my alliances and that continues to hold true. Your friends are your family, the one built and not born into.

days 5-6

This is the background to my computer. Before Quinn left the background was a picture of a chocolate chip cookie pizza. The cookies were baked onto the pizza. Quinn likes to find weird pictures on the internet and set them as the desktop background. Usually the picture changes daily. I think of it as a rotating gallery that no one sees but me. Ninety percent of the time I like the pictures he chooses, but not always. There's this one picture where a crab has a tylenol gelcap between his pinchers, and I really hate that one.


After work today I started cleaning our house. It hasn't been done in months. When ever we wash dishes I find dishes that we haven't used for weeks. It's really gross, but also not that gross. I can think of worse things... I'm attempting to get our stuff organized. When we moved two years ago we fit all of our possessions in the back of a truck and a pull-behind trailer. That included our mattress and our bikes. We've managed to accumulate a lot of stuff, but most of it we don't use anyway. I'm pretty minimalistic with living space and the less stuff I have around the happier I am. This is the direct result of being raised by hoarders. My sweet Southern parents keep everything. The last time I went home dad got really mad that I threw out the soy sauce packets. He had been collecting them in the plastic container the egg drop soup came in. My depression-era grandma is even worse. She keeps the empty tooth paste containers once all the toothpaste is gone. 


Now that I think of it, I might be living with a hoarder. Quinn keeps all of his soda cans, toilet paper rolls, and the little cardboard cards you get in credit card applications. He says the soda cans and toilet paper rolls are to "make something" with, but in reality, they've been sitting in our basement for one year and nine months. Are other people married to artists? Does this happen to you? He must have gathering instincts. 


Not much to speak of yesterday or today. Bonnie invited me for dinner last night and made roasted garlic and broccoli penne. It was fantastic, and the second home cooked meal I've had since Quinn left. The first one was when Kate sent me chili and cornbread. It's a little strange living solo, but I haven't been lonely. I feel lucky to have such good friends close.


My days are what they always were: working and reading. I ran yesterday listening to my ipod, and today with Laci's running group. My running looks like power walking but I won't be embarrassed until I get those fanny pack water holders, where the water bottles sit like bear claws on your back. Those ladies are serious.

day 4: the first day of summer

Woke up and went to work at noon. I work in the library of a law firm on the 18th floor of the State Street building. The views are spectacular, but I can't see them from where I sit. If I lean to the left I can see the sky through the window of Roger's office. Still, its not a bad place to work. I walk around a lot and stare at the city as I pass the windows.


Today Paula said she wished she looked like me: tall, tall, tall and beautiful. I thought that was nice of her. My outfit must have emphasized my height: long pleated grey skirt, loose black blouse, brown wedge ankle boots. Everyone I work with is a fair bit older than me. We celebrate their 50th birthdays with cake in conference rooms. We talk about how they had babies at 40 and how their teenagers hate to wear coats no matter the temperature ("coats are just not cool mom"). I like these conversations. I like the people I work with. Paula has dyed-red hair and goes home with flowers she buys off the street vendors. She wears stiletto heels and reminds me of poppies and public gardens. 


I was home before six and ran a loop around the Longfellow bridge. I walked a little by the Athenaeum, but I felt better than yesterday. When I came in the door I tried to make kettle corn. I've never popped popcorn in a pot, but Elizabeth left some here so I thought I'd use it. It burned while I was in the shower and filled the kitchen with smoke. When I got out of the shower I opened the window and made it again. I got dressed while it was popping, tossed it in a yellow bamboo bowl, threw sugar and salt on, and ran out the door.


I caught a bus to Elizabeth's house. It was book club night and we were supposed to discuss Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine. In a classic Courtney move I got lost near the Thirsty Scholar Pub. I turned right at The Biscuit, ended up at the skate spot near Dan's work, looped around until I came to Olecito, went right again on Cambridge Street and eventually called Betty for directions. I was an hour and a half late, but I did see some new parts of Sommerville. All in all, I didn't mind. It was a good night for walking.


Aubrey drove me home and I gave the leftover kettle corn to the Wangsgards. They were watching biggest loser on the couch.


It was 40 degrees yesterday and 80 today. It must be the first day of summer.

day 3

I FELT SUBDUED TODAY. It might be the quiet or the strange hours I find myself keeping.

Yesterday bled into this morning. After talking to Quinn I read until 7 am. I barely noticed the time passing. Around 2 there was ringing from the train yard next door. At first I thought someone was rattling the fence and throwing the trash cans around. That doesn't make sense, but night-noise is uncanny. It sounded like hammering and men laughing, my own Erich Zann, a buzzing soundtrack to the shadows through the curtains. When I looked out the window I didn't see anything, but I wasn't curious enough to pursue it. Close to 5am I noticed the light changing, but I kept reading. One thing I know about myself is that I will follow a story to the detriment of all else.

At 11 am I woke up and braided my hair. I was on the train by 11:30. 

After work I ran along the river. There was a lot of stopping and starting. I never found my rhythm, but I didn't really expect to. I haven't run seriously in 8 months. My sweatshirt was too hot against my skin. The only time breathing was easy was on the bridge across Mass Avenue. The wind was cold enough that my sweatshirt didn't matter.

I came home and took a shower. I combed my hair out for the first time in days. I did half the dishes and listed to the Top 25 Most Played songs on our iTunes: Poison Oak by Bright Eyes (94 plays) and Colors and the Kids by Cat Power (44 plays). I planned to have gnocchi for dinner but didn't feel like dirtying the pots I just washed. I had peach oatmeal with dried fruit and sliced almonds.

I started to watch In the Mood for Love, but got distracted. I paused the movie right after they move into their apartments.

I liked this from the book I just finished:

"No man is brave that has never walked a hundred miles. If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection." From Patrick Rothfuss' A Wise Man's Fear.

day 2

This afternoon I went with the Wangsgards and the Hadleys to Rockport, Massachusetts. It wasn't sunny, but it didn't rain. On the way I played this game with Dan and Lisa where we picked songs no one had heard and sang along full voice like we knew all the words. I'm very good at this game. I wish you had heard my Portugese. Lisa said the woman was singing "it's hard to be living in a dream."


In Rockport we walked along the coast and saw the square-rigged tall ship Formidable. They have it decked out in red sails and operate a gift shop that sells pirate-themed kitsch to tourists. There was a crocheted mermaid, a treasure map bandana, and keychains. Logan bought an eye patch. We walked past little shops that sold ice cream, strudel, ceramics, and beach jewelry. Soren looked at live lobsters inside a tank. It reminded me of Provincetown but on a much tamer level. There was a crab-shaped wine bottle holder. The crab held a wine bottle in each pincher. Merry Christmas mom and dad. 


At one point we walked up to Bearskin Neck and Soren threw rocks in the water. Apparently the stretch was named Bearskin Neck because a bear drowned and washed up on shore in the eighteenth century. I would have taken that as a bad omen. Still it's no Backlick Rd. from northern Virginia. The road was named after the salt licks that the Powhatan Indians used to attracted deer to the area.


Sitting on the lip of a roundabout I passed out the sour patch kids from yesterday. A man in a red car drove by with the windows down. He was wearing lots of silver jewelry and there was a dog in the front seat. As soon as he saw the tourists he slowed his car and started singing this song to the afternoon. He wasn't looking at anyone, but it felt like a performance. This was a song that he wanted people to hear.


Later, eating sandwiches on benches by the water I made a soccer pun for Logan. Where do all the soccer players get mocha after the big game? At the Conca Cafe. 


On the way home we stopped at Wingaersheek Beach in Gloucester. According to Wikipedia "Wingaersheek" is a corruption of the Dutch name "Wyngaerts Hoeck" derived from "Wyngaerton" which means vineland. We ran along the shore, and I stuck my feet in the water. Driving back I drank a diet Dr. Pepper and felt like my mother.

This is me talking to Quinn at 12:21 am.
He's watching a recap of the RSL game.
Our first video chat.

day 1

Max and I drove Quinn up to Norfolk, CT for his art fellowship. For the first time in days the rain stopped and the sun was out. Blue sky, green trees, and an open highway cut through the rocky hills. We left at 11 and got there shortly after 2. Entering the town of Norfolk the clouds came out. This is not a metaphor. It started raining, and we were stopped by a local pet parade. I didn't see any pets, but I did watch a teenager in a bowler hat stroll through a park like Fred Astaire. He had a pink umbrella, a hot topic outfit, and the lonely gait of the young. There was a huddled group of goth kids underneath a set of stairs. I'm fascinated by how popular culture makes it to small town America.

We finally pulled up to the place. Lots of green grass, mossy stones, and forest. A white clapboard boarding house, a building with studio space, another brick building (I never found out what that was). We met Sam the director. Quinn drew a studio space: number 5. We unloaded his camera equipment and his bike. I pet a couple of loose dogs running around the estate. A big black labrador and an English bulldog. I went to the bathroom: no lock on the door. We loaded Quinn's bag into a van so he could be driven to his living space. I kissed him goodbye, and Max and I were off.

On the way back we stopped at Stop & Shop. I bought salt & pepper chips, two Nantucket nectar drinks, a plum, and sour patch kids. Sometimes we listened to the radio but mainly we just talked. It was nice. I've known Max for six years now. Pre-marriage, pre-moustache, pre-beard. He is still the same nice guy he was at 19: easy to laugh, easy to smile, and thoughtful. I'm glad we followed friends to Boston.

Coming home we got slightly delayed coming off the Mass Pike. We didn't get back until 6. Max was supposed to make crowns for Feast Mass, an art fundraiser, at 7. Local business donated food and alcohol for the event. During Feast Mass, seven artists presented grant proposals for projects in the area. At the end of the evening, attendees cast ballots and the winning project took home the money raised from cover charges. The featured artists wore crowns, made by Max, to stand out. I left before I heard the winner, but the proposals were interesting: local gardening, theater funding, performance art, and documentary film. One group wanted to make pornography to give to people who got parking tickets. They thought nude photos would help lessen stress in a truly meaningful way. (Recently Cambridge started printing yoga poses on parking tickets to help relieve stress.) I wouldn't have voted for that idea (the proposal had some holes . . . ) but I laughed.

I sat with Eunice and Peter for a little while and ate sherbet and cookies. Later I walked home down third street. I feel sad that Quinn is gone, but I don't think my head is quite around it. Nothing much is different yet, i just feel quieter than normal. Tomorrow I'm driving up to Gloucester/Rockport with Dan and Lisa. Tonight I'm reading more of A Wise Man's Fear and sitting on the couch with Whisky. Business as usual.