Strongly Worded

Why I Love Where I Live

This weekend exemplified why I love where I live.

On Friday evening, after nixing plans to see Thank You for Smoking (which I still want to see), my friend J. decided that we'd have more fun lounging around on her brand-new lawn furniture. J. and her fiance and their close friend from college recently bought a massive two-family home just minutes from my house. Their property includes a really nice yard, and they've incorporated a very grown-up looking table with a sunshade and water-repellant chairs. One thing I love and admire about this couple is their talent for relaxed, impromptu enteraining. While I fuss and stress about dumb hostessing details, they just mix good food and cool people and it's always delicious and fun and chill. In this fashion, they decided around 6ish to have a BBQ, and they got on their cell phones, and within an hour we were surrounded by 15 cool people and a spread of food which they unearthed from their freezer/pantry. It was stunning weather--warm but no bugs yet--and one of the guests brought a puppy, who twisted and writhed in the bushes, interacting occasionally with the resident dog (Bonnie) and cat (Quit'e (pronounded "kitty").

On Saturday I went on a walking tour of Medford (neighboring city--also minutes from my house), entitled "The Promise of the Mystic River". I signed up because I love walking tours and I love learning about changes in the urban landscape, but also because I harbored a tiny hope of meeting my soulmate. Unsurprisingly, most of the people on the tour were couples in their 50s, but it was still cool to learn about how the scary I-93 highway destroyed an entire vibrant community once known for its shipbuilding. (Who knew? The Mystic River is now barely visible from the city (they moved the river to make room for the highway). The rush of traffic is deafening. It's hard to imagine the forest that once existed there, or the shore with canoeing and picnics.

When I told my friend E. about this, she lamented about the displacement of 350 households and the cemetery and the wildlife, but said, "aren't you glad we have I-93?" And I said no, I hate I-93; it's terrifying. Well, she asked, how do you go North? Or South? Or East, for that matter? And I realized: I don't. I only go West. My fear of I-93 has deemed me mono-directional.

That evening we had dinner with two of E's close friends, and then I walked over to see K's boyfriend perform at Toad, a very cool bar which is also walking distance from my house. He perfomed one of my favorite songs, which touches on a post-break-up custody battle over a parking pass. If you've every lived here, this will pull on your heartstrings.

On Sunday--more WALKING with friends (two of my most beloved friends who I met in grad school). We hit Somerville Open Studios--and wandered around the area perusing art of all kinds--a visual homage to the Cheez-Puff (seriously), photography, painting, pottery. I bought a beautiful blue and purple serving platter and feel like a patron of the arts.

Now it is Monday morning, and, having waxed delightedly about my neighborhood, I must face my most dreaded task (other than work): Confronting my Landlords about Renewing my Lease. I need to suck it up and pre-emptively approach them and (hopefully) prevent them from raising the rent. Swallow. Gulp. Wish me luck.

Posted by Dori at 9:36 AM