Sorry, no food pictures this time.
Don't be fooled by how sunny it is in this picture. It was still freaking cold."Where's your fur coat?"
That's what one of my friends asked me upon first sight. True, Boston was cold, and I whined a lot about the cold, but, to be fair, it wasn't that cold. Sad how one can adapt so quickly.
(Gosh, am I a brat, or what? First class, furs - to be fair, I used miles to upgrade my ticket [although really? The first class ticket I had to Paris earlier this year beats all], and the fur was found at a vintage store [although reworked to fit me to a tee].)
Of course, I totally ignored the weather report when packing, and smartly brought along two pairs of ballet flats and one pair of strappy sandals. Not so smart, but what does it matter? Between the torrential downpour on Saturday and the high winds on Sunday, there really wasn't much leaving of the apartment during the day.
Super-cool sound installation.
I wish I had scandalous stories, but the reality it that it was just a nice relaxing weekend in Boston. (A city I realise I miss dearly, even though the weather blows. Sometimes literally). Seriously, it was like Fake Boyfriend and I had been married for years and just puttered around. We bought chairs for his loft, and rearranged some paintings. We went window-shopping. We watched movies. We drank a lot. We did work. We ate. In perhaps the ultimate in suburban coupledom, we even went to Target to look for new dining room tables. (Btw? Tord Boontje? At Target? I love! Behnaz Sarafpour? Sadly, not so much.)
You think I'm kidding, but I'm not. It was an exercise in utter banal normality. Even if now his parents (yes, there was a family supper thrown in there since his parents wanted to see me while I was in town) think we're sleeping together.
His mother: Aren't his couches comfortable? Are you sleeping on them, or has my son been a gentleman and given you his bed?Which was technically the truth, but we were really only doing so because it was more comfortable than either of us sleeping on the couches. That, and the heat wasn't turned on high enough - sharing a bed means sharing body warmth, you know. But you know, everyone's always assumed that we've dated/are dating, from way back when we met in Paris our junior year (cue the cooing now, you can't help it), so this doesn't really change matters. It also is probably because he has exchanges like this:
FB: Oh, we've been sharing a bed.
FB: Oh yeah, she's [gesturing to me, who is obviously not paying attention because hi! They have ipods loaded with all sorts of fun music to which to listen!] from LA.Yes, again, technically the truth, but people are wont to read into such statements and assume that we've been carrying on a torrid love affair, and have been for the last 6 years or so. Which would make me one big cheater, since I've definitely gone out with other guys in that interim. I suppose I could bring it up, his answering of questions, but it doesn't bother me that much since I find it sort of amusing. Plus, don't you know? We're going to be married in 10 years anyways - at least fake-married, since we're on the fake-pathway in this fake-relationship.
DJ in Louis Boston: So, how do you two know each other?
FB: We met in Paris while studying abroad, and we've kept in touch since.
Fall really is a lovely season. Too bad it lasts for such a short time.And yes, I know it's Nanoplemowo, or however it's spelled, and I seriously considered joining - but then I figured nobody wanted to read daily ramblings, because there's no way I have the energy to produce quality writing every day for a month, seeing that I'm struggling as it is.
But be excited! Next week! I remember that my kitchen exists!