I have a new moniker for Steve L., one of my four brother-in-laws with the same first name. Now he’s Ramp Man to me. He drove to the Cape from Connecticut fully loaded: Boston Whaler packed with bikes, folding tables, life jackets, power tools, and reclining chairs...
Leslie and I now work a block from each other, which is really great, really. Carpooling is good for the environment, right? The couple that commutes together transmutes together, or cahoots together, or something like that. So it’s all good until it’s not...
I asked the vendor at the U-District Farmer’s Market what makes a second sweet potato a second sweet potato. Little things, mostly. Mostly superficial. Every time I purchase seconds, I feel disproportionately proud. In the summer, it’s tomatoes for...
We were at Tinello in Pioneer Square with good friends from the neighborhood yucking it up at a pre-celebration of Leslie’s birthday on a Friday night when Leslie got a call. She doesn’t usually answer the phone, any phone, especially during a good...
I stayed in an assisted living facility during my holiday trip back to Boston; briefly and temporarily, not permanently. My parents moved from their rambling, charming, historic house on five acres in New England to a much more circumscribed facility for seniors in a...
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