At around 10:00, two more men came along and sat down on my other side. One of them immediately turned to me and asked how long the giant eighteen wheeler had been idling in front of the coffee shop; it had been there for maybe twenty minutes. He went on to describe how lovely it was, and ask if I was writing my memoirs. (I still had my notebook and pencil in hand.) I laughed and said Sure, and he guessed that I was currently detailing how the noise of the eighteen wheeler--which, according to him and I had to agree, looked like a combination of Darth Vader and a Transformer--was whittling away my will to live.
He chatted with his companion for a little while before turning back to me and asking what I was really writing; it turns out he used to be a professor of English and a keen people-watcher. We wound up talking--wait, no. He wound up talking, and I almost entirely wound up listening, for the next two hours. His companion went home pretty early on, and Richard was incredibly happy to fill me in on the history of the area, his experience as an English professor in the midwest, various family stories, and a lot of random history tidbits. (He has two PhDs: one in Renaissance Literature and the other in History. Mostly Jewish history, he said, but most of the history things he told me were Renaissance Europe related.)
I learned that H.P. Lovecraft, he of Cthulhu fame, was born less than a block from our apartment. And when he was fourteen he moved another block further away. And I live within walking distance of his other homes. I am so incredibly excited, you have no idea.
We also talked about Flannery O'Connor, one of my (our) favorite authors. That was really about the extent of my contribution to the conversation, though!
Today I finally went out for a walk! Here's a map, since I'm adding a bunch of photos I took while walking. Started off on the red track, heading east on Angell until I hit River Road, then started going north.
(I probably no longer need to remind you to click on the pictures to see them full size, huh?)
There were a good number of cars parked along the road, and some people relaxing by the river or on park benches facing it. But the quality of people wasn't the greatest, if you get my meaning. Didn't see any families down there, mostly adult men.
Still, York Pond turned out to be really picturesque! Lots of lily pads and green trees and such. As you can see:
I'm just starting to figure out the new camera's outdoor settings. Not too shabby for my first attempts, unless you don't like sunbursts discoloring the image. *Wince.*
Anyway, that's York Pond. If you turn around and look at the river, you'll see, well, river. The far bank is green, but pretty well populated with not-very-pretty buildings. I did manage to get this, though:
Not bad looking at all!
After leaving the water, I met a very kindly man in his seventies who warned me that the area isn't very safe for someone walking alone, especially after dark. We talked for a few minutes, and I promised him never to come around after dusk by myself.
And then, if you look at the map again, I hit Blackstone Boulevard. That's the wide boulevard that was designed by the same man who built Central Park (something else Richard told me!), which explains why I got such a Central Park vibe from it when Andrew and I first saw it two months ago. Large, expensive, gorgeous houses line the boulevard on both sides. Down the middle is a green belt with a walking/jogging trail, dotted frequently with park benches. I wanted to take pictures of some of the houses, but a lot of people were out, and I didn't want to look like a thief scoping out her next target, you know? I'll be braver if I go really early in the morning, I think.
Also, it took me a long time to get decent shots without fellow walkers/joggers in them. Didn't want anyone yelling at me for taking pictures of them exercising or whatever. So here are just a few Blackstone Boulevard photos:
In this last one you can see the roads on either side of the jogging path.
After leaving Blackstone Boulevard, I met Andrew at the CVS, where we loaded up on ice cream and Dr. Pepper. Like true Texans. By then, my feet were very glad to take a break while he drove us home.
And here are a few other pictures for you.
Above is the vet that's about half a block from our apartment--a three minute walk, if that. I bought the cats their low-allergen food there a few days ago, and they seem both nice and competent.
This is how we get to Target. Massachusetts. (It's a ten or twelve minute drive, no big deal. But I just love passing under these "Welcome To" and "Leaving" signs.)
On Thursday, our car informed us that it was a tad bit warm outside. (We had already noticed.)
When Augustine mews and looks up at you a certain way, he's asking to be picked up. And this is his favorite way to be held. No kidding. He'll just relax into a little fuzzy puddle, eyes closed or--at most--half open and back toes pointing straight up. Cutest thing in the world.
Sophie decided to help Andrew with his self-portrait by, you know. Fuzzing it properly. And making sure his headphones were properly inserted into his phone, for prime audio book listening. (Augustine is stalking her from behind a giant pile of Sophie Fluff that I managed to get off her with the Furminator. No joke, that fuzzpile is half the size of the cat it came off of.)
She also recently found out that some centuries ago, cats were believed to get onto the chests of sleeping children and suck out their souls. She found this information inspiring.
And yes, she will fall asleep on our chests if we let her. We almost never do.
But don't pity her too much; she knows how to make herself comfortable elsewhere.
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