Have Yourself a Merry 4th of July
We were lame. Our ambitions for the 4th of July were grand. Our day kicked off with an auspicious start, as we had our house guests Pam and Tim from Seattle staying with us. We began with waffles (the good kind from Mark Bittman's recipe that has to let the batter sit overnight to rise) and then began our mini-patriotic tour of the Boston 'burbs. We spent most of our time in Concord, where we explored Author's Ridge in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery (which I don't think is related to the Washington Irving story--I think that one is in New York). We pondered how it is that all these famous authors (Nathaniel Hawthorne, Louisa May Alcott, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau) all lived in the same area and all had their family plots right next to each other. The cemetery was beautiful and the day was gorgeous (a tad on the warm side, but that seemed to please our Seattle guests tremendously). Another delightful thing about Concord? Excellent, air-conditioned public restrooms.
We took the long route to Allston where we parked at HBS and said hi to some folks having a barbecue. Then we went off to Cambridge for Mexican food at the Border Cafe, ice cream at Toscanini's, exploration in Harvard Yard, and a bit o' shopping at the Harvard Coop (that's pronounced "coop," for you foreigners. Never mind that it is a co-op. Call it a coop). We thought we'd retreat home for a quick recuperation and then head back to the Esplanade for fireworks. But then we started to think about it. The Esplanade. For fireworks. Hundreds of thousands of people (later reported to be 700,000) crammed on that little stretch of land by the water. Um, no thanks. So the next on our list was to watch from Arlington, where on a hill in a park they set up a screen and audio so you can see/hear the Pops. Except, why sit on the grass and watch the fireworks appear like tiny dots in the distance when you can see them up close and personal on your own 32-inch television? I told you we were lame. But it was great fun and, really, what's more all-American that watching TV with your butt parked on the couch and a beer (or an O'Doul's as the case may be) in hand.
We took the long route to Allston where we parked at HBS and said hi to some folks having a barbecue. Then we went off to Cambridge for Mexican food at the Border Cafe, ice cream at Toscanini's, exploration in Harvard Yard, and a bit o' shopping at the Harvard Coop (that's pronounced "coop," for you foreigners. Never mind that it is a co-op. Call it a coop). We thought we'd retreat home for a quick recuperation and then head back to the Esplanade for fireworks. But then we started to think about it. The Esplanade. For fireworks. Hundreds of thousands of people (later reported to be 700,000) crammed on that little stretch of land by the water. Um, no thanks. So the next on our list was to watch from Arlington, where on a hill in a park they set up a screen and audio so you can see/hear the Pops. Except, why sit on the grass and watch the fireworks appear like tiny dots in the distance when you can see them up close and personal on your own 32-inch television? I told you we were lame. But it was great fun and, really, what's more all-American that watching TV with your butt parked on the couch and a beer (or an O'Doul's as the case may be) in hand.
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