I know, I was supposed to post a pic of me in a Red Sox Jersey. I'll do that tonight. I just have had so much on my mind besides last weekend. It was a fun weekend though. Highlights:
I spent Saturday lunchtime at Suffolk Downs. Lord those animals were beautiful. I've never been to a live track before, and I just loved it. We got to see all the horses up close before each race, and I was excited to see a young female jockey winning most of her races. It wasn't too long ago that the idea of women as jockeys was, well, frowned upon. Now a young blonde gal is whuppin' ass. Yee-haw!
I spent Saturday night at the Red Sox game, which was the surprise Father's Day gift for G's dad. My own dad and I called each other several times during the game, just to compare notes. Also a really fun time, doing something which, a number of years ago, I never imagined I'd enjoy. Fenway Park is beautiful. It's small, which means those seats are PACKED, which is so much more fun than sitting in a half-filled enormous stadium. The Fenway Frank is almost as tasty as New York's Hebrew Nationals, but really nothing can touch a Yankee stadium dog. The most impressive thing about Fenway though is the surrounding neighborhood. It's surrounded by really cute sports bars, restaurants, a little shopping, and nice, normal, family folks walking about. It's very clean, very well taken care of, and seemed very safe. After the game ended, the crowd spilled out into the bars and clubs, and the nightlife was humming.
Sox fans, for the most part, are very civilized. (Of course I didn't mention that I was from New York, but I have a feeling that might not have gone over so badly... I was there, after all.) G's Mom pointed out that we were surrounded by hundreds of fans - and the team was losing - and we didn't hear one four-letter word! Even the kids were well-behaved, really enjoying the game and not having food fights or running all over the place. The people sitting next to us were friendly and offered to take a family picture. The vendors are smiley and good-natured, and they wear these freakishly bright yellow T-shirts, and you can see them moving about the crowds like bumble-bees in a field of poppy-red Sox shirts.
I missed my Daddy though. It was really sad for me, not being with him this year. As much fun as I had in Boston, my heart was in Illinois. I'd have loved to take him to Wrigley Field this year. I virtually never see my parents on Mother's or Father's Day; I just always send cards and flowers and small gifts. This year though, I was yearning to go home. We just couldn't swing the outrageous plane fares. We decided we'd wait until the family party this weekend to see each other, although it's not really the same. I'm hoping Friday night we can go out for a nice dinner and I can give him the sappy card I got.
I spent Sunday riding bicycles with G and his Dad. His Mom wasn't feeling up to it; she has tired ankles. I rode her bike. It has a wide seat, one hand brake, and the back wheel brakes by pedaling backward. It's got fenders and it's bright green. It looks like an overgrown kid's bike, which is a good thing, since I have never ridden an adult bike in my life. The last time I straddled a bicycle I was in junior high school. That's over twenty years ago. I was a little scared, but I loved it. The faster we went the more steady I felt on those wheels, although G's dad said if I was driving I'd be taking a breathalizer for all the weaving back and forth. I was very wobbly, but I didn't go careening off into the creek or take out any other bikers, so I did ok. We biked along a beautiful tree-lined path through Lexington Mass. Of course my butt has been bruised and sore ever since, but I was loving the great cardiovascular workout. I need more of that in my life. Cardiovascular workouts I mean. Not sore bruised butt. Anyway.
After the ride we all pigged out on mediocre Chinese buffet food.
For now, miscellaneous odds and ends of crap:
My "best friend" Glamgirl was supposed to be flying in from Korea this week. I've heard nothing from her. She might be here, she might not. She might call me at 2 or 3 this afternoon demanding my presence this evening, or not. Most likely not. After having this girl in my life for almost a decade, I'm used to this. I'm her bitch, she knows it, and when she says "Get on the train" I ask "How fast?" I put up with it because the amazing talks we have are worth it. And I'm hoping she'll ask me to be her maid of honor someday. Right now I'm hoping I'll get to see a Broadway show with her, or go dancing at some glitzy nightclub. That's all she does when she comes to town: see shows and go to dance clubs. Sometimes a little shopping if she likes the collections at Dolce and Gabbana or Gucci. I can't help but love tagging along.
I CAN'T GET MY HAIR CUT. The salon near my house in only open after business hours on Wednesdays and Thursdays, and even then they close at seven. I have to cross the Tappan Zee bridge at about 5:30 every evening. I virtually can NEVER make it on time. I tried to get an appointment with Peter, ready to fork over the plastic for his expertise, but he is BOOKED SOLID. At this point, I'm looking into salons in Norwalk, which is where I will be with my parents on Saturday morning. My hair is driving me SO crazy, it is too long and summer is here and I want it cut CUT CUT OFF OFF OFF. *pant pant*
I have a friend who works in Stamford and I'm hitting her up for salon advice. She works in an office full of Connecticut girls. Wish me luck.
I have officially submitted applications for the School in New Jersey and Federal Financial Aid. I'll need about 8 grand. Now I wait.
Seven more days left at this job.
Fourteen days until I fly home to get my car.
How much longer until I can get my friggin' hair cut?