Last night, we ran into this ravine between piles of snow. There’s just no place to put it, so the everyday cityscape must be shaped and altered just to keep life moving.
A sidewalk in Central Square, Cambridge. Rebecca posing to indicate the scale.
The sidwalk in front of my house.
Looking out the front door during the blizzard.
Before the big storm hit, I managed to get up to Cape Anne to see Tim and Meg for a little get-away. Their place in Lanesville is just far enough to feel like an escape but not so far that I can’t make the trip on a whim.
While I was there, they asked me to be Olive’s Godparent, which was a surprise and a joy. Since Olive came into the world in December, she’s won me over with her unusual name and her mellow demeanor. We got plenty of time to bond while I was there, as she slept on my chest while I chatted with Tim and Meg and as we went out cross-country skiing in the afternoon. I love the fact that she could fall asleep strapped to Meg’s chest while we skiied through woods.
The snow was falling lightly as we skied inland through an area of Cape Anne called Dogtown, a place I’ve been wanting to explore for a while. According to Meg, in the past the area was inhabited by a community of widows who kept dogs for protection. This summer I’d like to search for a series of rocks that have phrases engraved in them–sure to be some good stories there.
Jeanne sent me a link to this article in the NY Times that references the noon basketball pick-up games I take part in regularly at Boston College:
CHESTNUT HILL, Mass., Jan. 20 – Around noon nearly every weekday, Boston College Coach Al Skinner rolls into an auxiliary gym at Conte Forum wearing gray jogging pants with maroon mesh shorts pulled over them.
He will bang in the low post with history professors and take associate athletic directors off the dribble; his afternoon ritual is one he observes zealously. Skinner is still known, at age 52, to swing his elbows a bit and make the occasional phantom foul call come crunch time.
“It’s kind of hilarious,” Boston College guard Louis Hinnant said, “but he’s old school.”
I was a little disappointed that they didn’t mention the graduate student who sits outside and shoots little jumpers when everyone else collapses in on Coach. However, like his players, I can testify that that doesn’t yell at me when I miss my many15-footers.
(Link below requires NY Times login)