You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
Remember when “market price” referred to the price of lobster and not today’s gasoline?
Also, considering that the prices are often determined in an office many miles away, I’m left wondering why the same brand can cost a dime a gallon more just a mile away.
As much as I keep the outdoors Christmas lighting around our place to a minimum — usually strands around the bay window and entryway — we also keep ours going through most of January, as does a much more elaborate neighbor two doors down the street.
But that doesn’t keep us from appreciating those who go all out on this front, especially folks with an artistic flair.
This year, though, we’ve learned of a teenager who’s been doing something remarkable at his home for the past five years — something so remarkable he’s also done City Hall this year, which we’re anticipating viewing this week as soon as the glitches are ironed out and it’s back running. The bit I saw Thursday night was jaw-dropping.
But we did drive on to see what he’s up to. Trust me, there’s no way to describe what this kid does with a computer and 8,000 LED lights. He’s set it all to music and a seemingly infinite number of variations on motion, coloring, and timing. It’s quite mesmerizing, although I think I’m getting a headache from the afterglow in my head. Still, to get a faint idea of what he’s up to, you’ll just have to click here.
You just might find it worth a trip to Dover.
Can’t drive through the Big Dig – the tunnels that take Interstate 93 under Boston’s downtown – without thinking of the story of Remington the Rabbit.
Seems his first owner, a teen, named him after her favorite TV show at the time, Remington Steele, in honor of its star. The one she had a crush on.
And then, when she and her mother moved to England, Remington became a feature in another household, at least until they, too, had to move, this time into an apartment that didn’t allow pets.
So Remington, in his long life, spent his final days surrounded by three children who, from all accounts, treated him well and found their delight returned.
And then, when Remington’s days ended, their father provided the crowning touch. Seems Daddy was an engineer working on the Big Dig in Boston. And that’s where Remington was clandestinely buried.
Somehow seems fitting, amid all that steel, knowing there’s a rabbit in the works, somewhere over my head.
I pulled over to photograph some ducks on a pond, or so I thought. When I turned around, this is what I found.
Wild turkeys have made a remarkable comeback in New England. The other day, I had to stop behind a stopped car on the road. That’s when I saw the gobbler stroll off the pavement. There was even one in our yard, we’ve been told.
You can name those who jump in quickly, volunteering to tackle any new task their supervisor proposes. (“Sure, Boss, we can do it.”) And you can name those who are more cautious, evaluating the time commitment and resources.
I’m thinking, too, of all the people who join a committee and then fail to follow through.
Or the coworker who’s muttering under his breath once we’re overloaded with the additional project. Or all the other tasks that get slighted.
How many others do you know?
Back when I was living in the townhouse apartments “on the hill,” the preschool tot next door was learning he could manipulate me presumably, any grown up into waving to him. All he has to do is wave first.
At first, he was pretty shy, wondering whether he should wave at all when I wiggled my hand or arm in his direction before driving off to the office or the grocery. In time he became more intrigued, hovering at their open front door or staying close to his mother if she were sitting at their stoop.
And then he became bolder. One morning, he parted their upstairs blinds and cried out from the window to me, just so I could see his smile and wave.
The next day, he told me as he rode his bike around the parking lot, “I runned into your car.”
“Oh, where’d you hit it,” I replied, not the least worried, not with all the rust spots that are appearing simultaneously on my well worn vehicle.
“On the tire!” he piped up as I performed a mock inspection.
And finally, he came charging out the door just as I was about to drive off, grinning and hailing me in huge motions. “Welcome!” he cried out. “Welcome to Walmart!”
“Well, say `hi’ to Sam for me!” I chuckled.
His father, a few steps behind, shrugged as they set off on their errands.
Best known for its 16 packed shows in Harvard’s Sanders Theatre each Christmas, Boston’s Revels organization also presents many other activities of community-enhancing music, theater, dance, and storytelling for family audiences through the year.
Each autumn, for instance, it welcomes the equinox with a free Sunday evening concert along the Charles River in Cambridge, which takes place tonight with activities beginning at 5 p.m. in Winthrop Park at Harvard Square. A police-escorted street procession leads down to the riverside, where thousands settle in for a two-hour high-energy performance.
Last year’s concert featured Noel Paul Stookey of Peter, Paul, and Mary fame, and I was part of the chorus of 120 behind him. It was a blast.
The stage also provided some great views of the sunset and audience, which was ringed by glowing butterflies. It was a magical experience.
My wife took these photos with her phone. For some showing my face in the choir, though, go to the Revels site.
If you’re in New England, consider showing up tonight. The more, in this case, the merrier.
According to folklore, when intruders disturb a rattlesnake, the first passerby merely irritates the viper. The second passerby becomes truly annoying. The third in rapid succession, though, becomes just too much. And that’s the one the snake strikes.
I think many of us humans have days like that. When we erupt – or someone blows up at us – it’s often far out of proportion to the provocation. What you see merely reflects the third offense or offender – the one that triggers defensive action.
Either way, don’t take it too personally.
