the pieces of my life

Not everyone is as enamored of Arlington as we are. One high school kid put up the site, The Virtual Suck Tour of Arlington. Ignoring the excessive “hey, I’m 17” profanity, there’s actually some funny stuff in there, particularly the bylaws and the police listings.

• The upstairs vanity still hasn’t come so I have to go downstairs to brush my teeth.
  
• Adam’s weblog is getting more hits than mine (although he’s linked only from boring MBA sites, so I shouldn’t care) (and if you just clicked through to see his weblog, then damn you!).
  
• The services at the Harvard Hillel are run completely by students, which means a less-than-inspiring sermon was given by a boy who’s 14 years my junior.
  
• My head hurts
  
• It took me five days to do four loads of laundry. Normally Adam does it, but he’s been sick, so I’m doing it. But invariably what happens is I put a load in the wash and then forget about it for a few days, so by the time I put the clothes into the dryer and start a new load, there’s a slightly funky smell to the laundry. Of course, this could have to do with the traumatization I experienced as a young child (age 10). I was forced to do the family’s wash. I hated to do the family’s wash. But I wasn’t allowed to go out until the wash was done. Actually, it wasn’t so much doing the wash I despised as folding the clothes. I learned, though, that if I hid unfolded clothes in the bottom drawer of my dresser and told my mother it was all done and folded and put away, then I could play. As these stories tend to go, I got caught one day. My mother wondered why my father’s pajamas, her T-shirts, and my sister’s socks and underwear were in my dresser drawer. I can’t remember what happened, but I’m guessing there was a grounding involved. And I still had to do the family laundry.
  
• I bought a pad to keep my chair from rolling across the room, but my chair still rolls across the room.
  
• I filled a bird feeder with seed and put it up a week ago and not a single bird has come to nibble.
  

I guess that’s it. L’Shana Tova.

Mmmm, marzipan from Mike’s Pastry for breakfast. That’s what’s great about being a grown-up: marzipan for breakfast.

The place practically feels like home–we’ve unpacked the DVDs. We bought some pine DVD racks and have filled them to the brim (and overflowing) with DVDs and videos. And yet, despite the wealth of DVDs, they don’t look as impressive as they did in our tiny little closet. The basement is simply too big.

Today was a loverly day that involved absolutely no work or no work searching on my part. Jon (my brother-in-law) had tickets to a Big Dig tour that he couldn’t use (the Big Dig being the massive road project that’s been going on in Boston for pretty much forever, from what I’m to gather. It’s supposed to be done in another couple of years–they’re submerging roads and building bridges and demolishing the surface routes in favor of parks. The job is many years over long and a few billion dollars overbudget). The tours are free, but they are completely full through the end of 2002 so I was psyched to get the opportunity to go. Kara, another HBS partner, and I showed at around 10 for an hour long presentation. I was surprised at how interesting it was. They talked about making the tunnels under the train tracks (the federal government wouldn’t let them reroute the trains or halt the trains at all), the objects they’ve discovered in their digs, and all the modern technology (there are sensors in the roads that when the speed changes suddenly, alarms go off and operators can see on monitors where there is a breakdown to send emergency vehicles; they also did things such as sonic charges to move the lobsters away from under water so they wouldn’t get hurt and they added holes to the bridge so light would shine through so the fish wouldn’t get confused when swimming upstream; also they rebroadcast fm and am radio and cell phones in the tunnels so if they ever need to, they can do an emergency override). Then we walked out on to the Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Bridge and into one of the underground roads. Of course, I forgot my camera. But it was phenomenal to stand in the middle of this huge bridge with no traffic staring up at the support cable. The bridge is incredible, lit up in blue at night. Check out more photos of it here. The underground portion was also interesting, but I was more fascinated by the bridge. Amazing to think that in a few months, no one will be able to stand in the middle of it again, as thousands and thousands of cars rush over it every day.

After the tour, Kara and I went for an over-the-top lunch in the North End, followed by cannoli and cappuccino at Mike’s Pastry. We did a little shopping–picked up some bread, prosciutto, salami, and pecorino for dinner as well as some dessert–and then I hopped the T back to the park and ride. I’m amazed at how fast I can get downtown.

The rest of the afternoon was spend unpacking more of the basement. We need to get the basement room painted and the carpet stripped before the end of the month when we’re having flooring put down. The boxes are slowly disappearing completely….

Rolled out of bed this morning and thought, To shower or not to shower? I was thinking of going for the uncleaned record, but then remembered that I have plans for tonight. Oh well. There’s always next week for record breaking.

So, Adam has declared in his weblog that he won’t be giving out his stats (for business school applications). I, on the other hand, would be happy to tell you his stats…

My parents came to town this weekend to check the place out, help hang pictures, and to take us shopping (not too shabby). Adam and I have been doing fine with the furniture we have, because we already owned pieces individually. We’re not doing quite as well on the joint decisions. I found the perfect chair for the library–big and cushy with a rocker and a recliner. Adam said it looked like something out of All in the Family. He said it looked old. (Note to Adam: We are old.) He liked these leather monstrosities that just were not comfy. Luckily, he’s in school all week and I’m not working, so I have plenty of opportunity to sneak whatever I like into the house.

Since leaving Seattle, we haven’t been reading the Sunday New York Times, although I keep saying that I’m going to start our subscription back up. So I was suprised when I was sitting at a friend’s house, leafing through the Style section, and as I went through the wedding notices (as I always do to see if there’s anyone I know, and yes, there is occasionally someone I know), saw a large picture of two men. Apparently “Weddings” is now “Weddings/Celebrations” and they’re now adding in same-sex couples. Strange (but nice) to see stodgy-old NYT catching up to the times.

Ah, what will I write about when there are no more HBS orientation events left? But then, I guess that’s why I joined the Partner’s Club.

Tonight was the boat cruise around the Boston harbor. Which would have been a lot more pleasant had it not been raining and about 60 degrees. And if the boat ride had been 1/2 an hour; not three hours (everyone now, “A three hour tour, a three hour tour”). Actually, the whole thing was a lot more pleasant than I would have thought–we ran into the one cool couple we’ve met before and I hung out with some of Adam’s classmates who are really nice. Three people told me what a great job Adam did giving a presentation in class. Of course, three other people came up to me and asked, “Is it true you won’t let Adam wear khaki pants with blue shirts?” Apparently, for their presentation, they had all wanted to dress in the uniform, but Adam refused on the grounds that I forbade it. So they all wore jeans and white shirts. He’s a good boy, that Adam.

But then there are those folks who just make me want to scream. Like the ones who have obviously forgotten my name (no matter how many times we’ve been introduced) and they don’t admit it. One guy was introducing his girlfriend, and he introduced the woman sitting to the left of me and Adam sitting to the right of me. Skipped me completely but did mention me, “Adam and his wife moved here from Seattle.” Adam got only one smack tonight for referring to me as “his wife.” He did quite well otherwise. And then there’s the guy sitting across from us who directs his entire conversation to Adam, even though I’m there and actively participating by asking questions.

We hung out downstairs sitting in a booth the entire night. Upstairs the music was playing really loudly. Not surprisingly, we sat at a table where everyone had a boyfriend or girlfriend. When we walked upstairs to leave, there were three huge circles formed of human bodies, swaying drunkenly to Billy Joel’s “The Piano Man.” Everyone was singing and swaying, swaying and singing. It was just like prom, but way more pathetic. As I whispered to Adam, “You’re wishing you were single right now, aren’t you?” we made a run for it. I bet they are all still singing and swaying, although most of them have probably moved on to their dorm rooms.

I’ve been a delinquent blogger. Job hunting–the networking, the classified searching, the writing and rewriting of cover letters and resumes–is a full-time job. That combined with my freelance job (proofing a mystery) has left little time for things such as blogging. But I think of you all often! I’m so digging the comments feature. I feel like I’m having a dialogue with everyone. Almost seems like I’m not on a computer sitting in my office in Arlington, but out in the real world communicating with people.

Sunday was the final rush of HBS activities. The day started with the Partner’s Brunch. Anyone want to guess what they served at a Partner’s Brunch at 11 a.m. on a Sunday. Oh, no, don’t be silly. There were no eggs. No, no toast or bacon either. What, are you delusional? Of COURSE there was no coffee or tea. Yikes! These Partners would never make it in Seattle. It was high tea. At 11 a.m. Tiny sandwiches (smoked salmon, at least, and cucumber and chicken salad, with pbj for the kids) with the crusts cut off. Veggies and dips. Pear and guava juice. Scones with whipped cream and strawberries. Iced tea was the only form of caffeine. And teeny little plates. I took three trips through the food line before I was close to sated. I should have known we were in trouble when we drove up and Adam said, “Oh, look, we’ve entered the land of SUVs and mini-vans.” I bonded with the one other woman I found who is not a CWIT (corporate-wife-in-training). The most horrifying thing? The women, who have the same last name as their husbands, who still felt compelled to write on their name tags, “with so-and-so” or “wife of so-and-so” as in “Minnie Mouse, wife of Mickey.” You all know what my name tag said right? Everyone now: Jenny Brown.

So, you’re probably saying to yourself, it was the last partner’s event. Big whoopdeedoo, now you’re done. Only… I paid my $125. I know, I know, I’m a masochist. I don’t know why I did it, but if nothing else, it should give me great writing material. And besides, maybe there will be one or two non-CWITs in the group. I already got my first invite to a partner’s event. A golf outing. Gee, what shall I wear?

That evening was a barbecue, which was fine enough. I realized how Seattle I am when I, a devoted non-vegetarian, pointed out in disgust to Adam that there was no vegetarian option. I think he was equally surprised. But the chicken and burgers were fine, and I’m done with HBS. Oh, well, at least until tomorrow night when we take our boat cruise around Boston.