Spent Tuesday night with my brother in Massachusetts.
He and I went to dinner to support a fund raising event for Symphony Pro Musica - the magnificent orchestra that Ed is a part of. You really should check them out - Marlboro, MA - they are better than that Justin Bieber stuff you are always listening to.
Anyway, had the best goddamn dinner I have ever had in the history of my life. Or something quite like it.
Steak tips piled on top of a mini mountain of garlic mashed potatoes which themselves are sitting on a layer of blue cheese. Complemented with a delicious sauce to rub the food around in.
I would eat this every day for the rest of my life, given the opportunity.
Washed it all down with a ginormous Sam Summer draught. Christ, eating and drinking is fun.
Unfortunately the fund raiser was a bust. They were hoping for 40 or 50 people.
There were four - me and Ed, and Cynthia (a non stop talker) and her 94 year old mom. Pretty disappointing.
If I live to be 94 (God forbid, say Keith and Craig) - I refuse to be a hood ornament. You know, the kind the kids take out to dinner. They talk about you to other people like you're not even there. And anytime anybody pays you attention you give them that goofy, vacant smile.
Screw that. I'd rather be the foul mouthed, whiskey drinking, misbehaving, embarrass the kids in public kind of fossil.
Anyway, the meal was exquisite, Ed and I enjoyed good conversation (after Cynthia left - fortunately she and mom had already eaten when we got there so she didn't take up too much of our air), then we repaired to his pad to watch The Sox and shoot the shit.
I consider it a special thing to have a brother I am so close to. We talk about a lot of stuff (and laugh a lot) and even though we are not always on the same wavelength on every issue, it is comforting to be in the company of somebody you trust and love implicitly.
I spent the night on his comfortable black leather couch, had a light breakfast in the morning and hit the road around 8:45.
I was held up no less than four times on the way home because of construction - FOUR.
495 north kicked it all off, which is no surprise. Seems like every time I spend the night at Ed's the goddamn highway is backed up when I leave. For a couple of miles before my exit I was moving at 35 mph - for the last mile it was 20.
Got slowed down three more times on the peaceful back roads heading north, which kind of surprised me. The last one was a detour at the end of which I took a wrong turn. I realized it right away and only lost ten minutes but by this point I was pissed.
My peaceful, beautiful ride had turned into aggravation city. AND it was goddamn cold. I eventually had to close my windows.
This is summer, right?
By the time I got home it was raining like crazy, dark and overcast. I had to turn the heat on in the house.
The ride home was such a contrast to the ride down. Tuesday was gorgeous and I was in that "digging the moment" awareness type thing. Looking around, taking it all in, so relaxed all anxiety drained away.
My mind and soul were shocked.
I am a superstitious guy. I read things into things.
I had a job interview yesterday at 2:00. Getting there on time was not a problem - I was home at eleven. But I did not like the vibe that had built up over the two hour drive home. I was imagining bad things.
To top it off I killed a chipmunk when I got to Henniker. As I came around a bend the little dude was sitting upright right in the middle of my lane. I held my breath as The Big Ride coasted over him.
Unfortunately he decided to chance a move to the right and ended up under my right rear tire.
That thump was the clincher. I figured I would never get the job and should probably just stay home drinking whiskey and banging my head against the wall.
I don't know why the man above gives me the hardest road.