Coming Soon to a City Near You

It's dog to the kennel and off to the airport as we fly cross-country to Oregon for a week's vacation, March 3-12.

Did you want to get together, want to throw a party, want to have us over? We'll be at the cabin part of the time and in town part of the time, very few plans set in stone as yet. Call! 617-959-7246 or email lisa@massena.com.

Meanwhile this week is flying by. Work work work and a short trip to NYC to visit our offices there. They happen to be right next to the World Trade Center site - Ground Zero - one of the gentlemen in our office shared a story of seeing the whole thing from the Bankers Trust bulding next door while waiting for clients. When the second plane hit, we all headed for the lobby, he said, but it was on the second floor and we were stuck, packed in eye to elbow. They eventually got out through a second story window.

Ground Zero itself now looks like an ordinary, clean construction site - with orange cones dotting the outline of what used to be the two Trade Center towers.

Anecdotal stories float through Boston as well. My neighbor tells me the story of two families on the north shore whose children played together every day, including the occasional sleepover. One woman decided to go to New York for a getaway, but the second pleaded with her: I'm just saying, please don't go. The day of 9/11 the second woman and her family vanished, leaving everything behind. Where did you hear this story, I ask. I know a woman in church who knows the family, my neighbor says.

She tells me another story of a man in our neighborhood whose wife was chastising him as he raced for the airport to slow down, you're going to kill yourself. He got caught behind road works equipment in traffic, missing his plane by moments. His colleagues made the plane, bound for New York; it was a 9/11 plane. Later he spoke on their behalf at memorial services. His son attends the school where my neighbor works.

Sunday

For a while I let myself indulge in the fantasy that on this cold, sunny afternoon as music is playing and I'm folding sheets and Bert is juggling legos on the couch that the doorbell will ring and over will stop my mom, or one of my sisters or girlfriends, for a hot drink and a casual chat in between weekend commitments. It's a nice feeling, and then I think, they're 3,000 miles away - it's not going to happen! But still we are having fun.

We start our day with a bath and a little firedrill (poo-poo in the tub about five seconds after this picture was taken, no wondering he is smiling), followed by breakfast out at Stars. Then we convince Papa Tom that it's a good time to hang the new shelves and rods in the basement so we can organize our ski and out of season clothes down there. When we're done it looks fabulous.

While he heads out to the boat show promising not to pull a "Joly" on me (that's when you come home with a receipt for a new boat), we tidy up the house and Christian goes down for a nap. It's a very domestic day, and about eight degrees out.

Blackberry Calling

My phone keeps calling people! Patty, Annette, my parents. Unfortunately it seems to generally happen at about 4am their time so I'm guessing the calls are less than welcome. Does this mean I have to remove you all from my one-touch dialling?

Our friend Craig Dent is coming for a visit after several days in Washington, lobbying. We're looking forward to using our guest room for the first time, and spending some time with him.

Well I'm staring out the window at a beautiful, cold sunrise, which means I should get up, get beautiful, and get to work. Off we go.

Fish On!

It's a happy day for a kid when new pets join the family. Welcome the two new catfish and orange and black goldfish now warming up on center stage. In fact the experience is so lovely even Lance the dog gets a kiss (below).

We've been experiencing Northwest-like warm, wet weather, and it has all the Easterners grumpy, as in "wow, we get to have the worst month of winter three months in a row!" Welcome to our lives, friends.









Still the clouds broke and the sky cleared long enough for Tom to don a sexy cycling outfit and sprint off for a few moments over the afternoon. Lisa thought she might do the same on foot but here it is, dark as night at 5:36 and no workout gear in sight ...

However in honor of the Seachickens and Superbowl, ribs, asparagus and peppers are a-grillin' downstairs.

Victimless Crimes

So Tricia the neighbor has been inducted into the early morning regime, 5:14 sharp. So far we've subsisted on walking walking walking, thoroughly enjoyed by Lance Lambert, the dog.

Lance, as it turns out, is a connoisseur of scent. When something particularly lovely (ie stinky) finds its way into his path, he stops, cups his giant soft wet hanging dog lips around it and inhales snif-snif-snif the scent through his nose into the far reaches of the back of his brain. If he were human, I believe he would be another Robert Parker.

Speaking of Parker, his Wine Spectator has rated Joseph Phelps Vineyards' Insignia 2003 the #1 wine in the world. This is only meaningful (to us) because we were trying to get some before the article came out. A few days ago Tom said to me "I think our local wine guy is holding out on me". And then, we learn of the article. We have sent a hail mary to CFO Dave Lockwood, our man in a pinch. Stay tuned.

Back to that walk. Today victim Tricia said to me, you know, despite walking every day this week I am just not feeling sore the way I thought I would. I had to agree. But you know, tonight that sore feeling kinda kicked in. Then I remembered yesterday, when I went sliding onto my patooty in the driveway first thing in the morning because I'd ventured out boldly in running shoes onto the icey blacktop.

Tomorrow, we run.

Another Saturday Night

We broke down in desperation for some socialization and had all our neighbors over for a BBQ on Saturday night. Weather cooperated beautifully. The get-together also gave me an excuse to buy two chairs we've been needing for our fireplace area. Now I just need a soft blanket and a mohair pillow or two. Of course the folks are pretty interesting, everyone has a little different focus and most are Massachusetts natives.

Dick and Harriet right next door have been in the neighborhood since 1964. She couldn't attend but sent over so much great food we didn't need to have done anything else! Kevin and Trish across the street brought a scratch-baked chocolate cake. Laura and Roger, just behind us, brought a cheese plate and two darling little boys. Chris and Jessica, who own the beautiful red house at the entrance to our neighborhood, left their cute boxer Rocky at home so enjoyed Lance Lambert instead.

Trish signed up for my early morning regimen of walking and running; with a partner let's see if I can be a little more faithful. Lance sure loves it! Over the weekend Tom also found a group of riders he enjoys -- good news on that front as well.

We are setting up a fishtank for the little squirt in our living/sitting room. Pretty excited about it. I want saltwater fish (Nemo! Nemo!) however it's impractical with the type of tank we have (tall and square) so we'll go with goldfish and whatnot. I think Christian will love it.

Martha's Vineyard in Winter

We visit Martha's Vineyard over the weekend, staying at Tashmoo Cottage. At first we think, what's to like about this place? It's an odd mix of woods and, may I say, unkempt neighborhoods that feel like Wemme, transplanted to an island. The weather has us hunkered down, and the cottage we're staying in has a delightful beachy feel, sandwiched in the woods between two ... residences. So you've gotten out of town, you're just in someone else's town, if you know what I mean.

Sure, John Belushi is buried there, at Abel's Hill cemetery on the south side of the island. He and his wife fell in love with the place just before Saturday Night Live propelled him to fame; he's buried near Lillian Hellman I now know, but didn't know to look for her on Monday. His headstone, opposite the rock you see, reads "I may be gone but Rock and Roll lives on". The former Mrs. Belushi has just opened a gallery just off main street up from the ferry, and published Belushi: a biography.

Just up the road from here is a promontory called Gay Head, newly renamed Aquinnah by the Wampanoag Indians. JFK junior's plane went down six miles off shore of Aquinnah, within spitting distance of the island airport. When you're in Aquinnah, and as you drive out to the lighthouse, you come to feel more and more remote. Jackie O maintained a house here until 1994; I imagine it as a place you would go to be away from everything.

The island is shaped like a relaxed triangle - Vineyard Haven and the ferry at the top, Aquinnah/Gay Head in the lower left corner. We discovered our favorite spot, Edgartown, across the bottom of the triangle, facing the sea and Nantucket. Edgartown has a little connected island (is that still an island) - Chappaquiddick - which you reach by ferry.

The Chappy Ferry is a small open air barge that holds three vehicles, tops, and takes less than a minute to complete the crossing. We started with an innocent exploration of the stunning parks at the furthest edge of Chappaquiddick (ten minutes' drive, maybe five), but found we couldn't resist looking for the famous bridge that was the site of Teddy's bad night (a much worse night for Mary Jo). The bridge is much smaller and more immediate in person than it could ever appear in a photo -- a few car-lengths. Here, we are facing back toward the island and away from the ocean, which is just a few yards behind us over a duney beach. Amazingly, Kennedy was staying in a cottage 15 minutes' walk to the left of this. Murderously poor judgment, and here is an interesting link: http://www.ytedk.com/chapter1.htm