First Trip to Fenway

Well, I guess I lost some steam writing up my Boston musings. I assure you that I have not become so comfortable that this city has lost its novelty. More often these days, I catch myself admiring Boston. My admiration is greatest during my long runs through Cambridge, over the salt and pepper bridge to Beacon Hill and then along the Charles River. There's something about those sail boats. Confined to one area, the sail boats are always on top of each other, like toys in a bathtub.

Last night I went to Fenway Park for the first time. I can see what all the fuss is about. Perhaps Red Sox fans would scoff at my choice in adjectives, but it's adorable! I agree that building a new stadium would be a travesty. Of course, I may have sung a different tune had I sat behind one of the beams. My view from the bleachers, however, was unobstructed. It was a perfect night for baseball--clear and about 75 degrees.

I arrived at the bottom of the first, after the Rangers had managed to score 6 runs. I really wanted to wear my Derek Jeter t shirt, despite everyone telling me I'd get beer spilled on me. When my cousin Conor told me that it probably wouldn't be a wise idea to wear Jeter's name in the bleachers, I took notice. Conor is the calmest Boston sports fan I know. I cannot say I was disappointed to see the Sox ultimately lose 7-2.... I hope to make it back again when the Yankees are there. In that case, I will definitely have Jeter's name emblazoned on my back.

A Storied Series

At this point, it's cliche to compliment Pixar's movies. Every single one of their movies is funny, visually pleasing, and heart warming. Yet, despite these three similarities, they do not feel the same. I would love to shadow Pixar's creative team for a while to see how they do it. Creating pure childish joy in cinematic form is no small task. Yet, it seems that they've perfected the recipe.

The Toy Story series will go down as one of the best. Many a series that starts strong deviates at some point--usually because the studio simply strives to keep the series going to make money. Obviously, Pixar is hoping to bring home bacon. But when I watch Toy Story, I forget that toys don't come to life when humans aren't around. These movies are so genuine that I leave the theater feeling that I've neglected my own childhood toys. In fact, after seeing Toy Story 3, I brought my favorite stuffed animal, Blue Rocky, to my home in Boston to make up for years of ignoring him.

Each installment of Toy Story has offered new insight on life, childhood and the inevitability of growing up and moving on. I went into the third movie wondering if they could truly explore these themes any further. They absolutely succeeded. I love this series' straight forward perspective on childhood. The toys never treat Andy like a child. He is their partner in crime; their fellow adventurer. Toy Story makes one nostalgic about childhood without forcing it. Andy's toys go through great lengths and survive great peril just so they can make believe with him. Reality may have its own action sequences, but Andy's fantasy world remains the priority.

The third movie pulls harder at our heartstrings. Andy has undeniably grown out of childhood now. He's even driving himself to college without his family. (Anyone else find it strange that Andy's mom didn't drive him?) Watching him bid farewell to his toys, I actually wept in the theater. Our toys are among our best friends as we grow up, and I don't know that we all take the opportunity to pay tribute to them. I don't remember when I stopped being able to play make believe with toys. But the Toy Story series allows us to cope with that loss by making us believe in Woody, Buzz, Jessie, Bullseye, and the rest of the gang. With this series, we realize that our inner child is alive and well.

Just One Small Concession

Okay, I don't want everyone to flip out Jerry Maguire style. So just sit down and remain calm as I tell you this. I'm allowing myself to root for the Bruins. Yes, the Boston Hockey team. BUT THAT IS IT. When I moved, everyone loved making jokes about me jumping on the Sox and/or Patriots band wagon, which will NEVER happen. I am confident that I can justifiably be a Bruins fan.

First of all, I came to Boston with an absolutely clean slate in terms of Hockey fanaticism. Okay, so maybe I was a fake Rangers fan for 5 minutes in the 90s when they had Messier and those other good players. I, however, can't even tell you what the other players names were. I think Gretzky may have even played for the Rangers for a year? In other words, I know NOTHING about hockey. I think that permits me to root for the Bruins.

Secondly, why NOT root for them this year? It's the playoffs already and they're doing well. This could be instant gratification at its best. I have nothing to lose by rooting for a team that has a chance of winning the Stanley Cup.

Finally, I'm dating someone who is a Boston sports fan. Between baseball and football seasons, I figure this brief lull where we can sit and watch a game without worrying about witty and slightly cutting remarks whenever key plays are made will be delightful. So, it is not so much a compromise as a political maneuver.

All of that said, playoff hockey is really entertaining. Three goals were scored within the first 10 minutes in last night's game three of the Bruins vs. Flyers conference semifinals series. Sure I have no idea what icing means and sort of hate that they allow fighting, but what the heck, when in Rome.

The Water is [not] Always Good.

This weekend I went on a mini excursion to Philadelphia. The weather was akin to a late July hot spell. The novelty of 89 degrees made the stickiness bearable. At some point on Saturday night, after many hours of enjoying the Derby and its accompanying refreshments, my friend Megan attempted to read an obscure text she got from one of those incomplete numbers. "Boil water emergency? Emergency boil water?" By all accounts, she made no sense. So, we simply ignored her. In the light and clarity of Sunday, we then learned of the water drama up in Boston. (We think Northeastern texted all their students to notify them, hence the weird number for the text.)

When I got back home late last night, I realized just how spoiled we are by clean water. Pouring Poland Spring on my toothbrush made me feel like some diva celebrity. (There was once a rumor that Cameron Diaz only washed her face with Evian.) I took a cool shower before bed and freaked out when a little water got in my mouth. All of this said, my address is Cambridge, which has a separate safe water source. Though, the fact that the Somerville town line is spitting distance from my apartment made me willing to abide by the water advisory for the night.

In the midst of all of this, I am reminded of one of my favorite high school memories. It became a tradition for each graduating senior class to put on some sort of comedy meeting in the Spring. When I was a junior, a group of senior boys put on "Thursday Morning Live" which included a live Faculty Jeopardy skit (for the record, it was absolutely hilarious). They also filmed commercials, one of which was for Lawrenceville water. Lawrenceville bottled water is handed out in mass quantities at all Lawrenceville functions. It has a black label emblazoned with the school seal, Virtius Semper Viridis. The seniors showed a nerdy scientist explaining the make up of water and how Lawrenceville bottles it: they go to the water spout for dorm garden hoses and fill them up. At the end of the skit, the nerdy scientist says, "Virtius Semper Viridis: The water is always good." Needless to say, that line has been in my head for the last twenty four hours. I don't think Massachusetts Water Resources Authority will adopt that motto anytime soon.

Marathon Monday

I know that I shouldn't really complain, since I am thrilled to be an employee at Harvard, which showers us with generally high quality of life as well as many benefits and discounts. I am, however, sorely disappointed that Harvard does not give its employees Patriots Day/Marathon Monday off. It is a very obvious shortcoming.

Perhaps Harvard prides itself on its Cambridge location and, since the marathon does not go through this part of the city, feels no need to observe the holiday. Maybe Harvard is taking a stand for Cambridge by not acknowledging the giant race across the river. Harvard, however, cannot deny its ties to Boston and the fact that we don't get to rejoice and enjoy a day off in Spring to celebrate is sort of a travesty, in my opinion.

If Harvard didn't happen to give us Columbus Day off, I might have made a fuss about it, but I suppose I don't really have the authority to get any sort of traction on getting Patriots Day off.

Hope the rest of you Bostonians enjoyed it for me!

"Hey Dad, welcome to my home!!"

Tomorrow will be a revolutionary day in the life of Sophie Fitzgerald. For the first time, my father will visit a residence of mine. I am beyond excited to show him my new apartment and the neighborhood. There was a quick debate about whether or not he should book a hotel room for the weekend. I immediately shut that idea down. Granted, I don't have a pull out couch yet and it may not be the finest home visit he'll ever had, but I really want to host him. "Dad," I said, "you put me up for 25 years. The least I can do is give up my bedroom for two nights." He laughed and accepted my offer. I am going to sleep on an aerobed for the first night. My roommate has graciously allowed me to sleep in her bed on Saturday while she is home for Easter.

Sure, our living room is as sparse as a doctor's office waiting room. Yes, I need to hang up curtains. But it's my home and I'm confident that my dad will be happy with my new little nook in life. I keep wondering if I'll feel like an adult when I realize that he's staying over at my place. Probably not.

I'll have the full report in a few days.

!@#$%^&*

I had my first culture shock meltdown this week. It culminated in a lot of cursing, which may have completely frightened my roommate.

Harvard offers a discounted monthly T pass. If you buy one full price, it costs $59.00. Harvard's pass is $29--yes, God bless Harvard discounts. In any event, I was told repeatedly that even after you sign up for the Harvard pass, it takes months to get started. A few coworkers told me that I probably wouldn't get the Harvard one until May. So, resigned to not overdo it with refills in April, I went to buy a monthly T pass on Sunday afternoon. When I tried to use it, it didn't work. I then realized that Boston monthly passes are limited to calendar months. So, my pass would not work until Thursday, April 1st. In NYC, monthly Metro Cards are 30 days. You can get one in the middle of the month and it works for 30 days, no matter what month it is. In fact, if you buy it the last day of January, it'll work through February and into March 1st--assuming it's not a leap year.

In any event, as Julia and I are recounting our days last night, I opened the mail and a shiny Harvard Charlie card fell out of an envelope. F-bombs ensued. This is the other thing about the Charlie Card. You cannot return them. Monthly metro cards can be reimbursed if you bought them with a credit card. This is completely unfair, particularly if you lose your card. I bet Boston makes a lot of money of people who lose or destroy monthly passes by accident. (And especially when morons like me buy an extra one.) They really should allow for refunds.

I quickly calmed down, however, thinking of the Moscow Metro. $59.00 definitely feels like chump change when you compare it to the value of a human life. Soon after, I found someone who was willing to buy it from me for a small loss. Again, in light of the Moscow Metro tragedy. I quickly accepted the offer and vowed not to complain about any transportation issues ever again, unless my life was endangered.