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Now seems like a fine time to recount last weekend, just in time for another.. It was actionpacked, and great fun.
Bowling on Friday with (most of) the usual bowling suspects. I used my dad's vintage bowling ball. The ball itself is super; it's a Brunswick Fireball, and it hasn't been used in something like 50 years. But, it seems I'm not grown-up enough to bowl effectively with it. It weighs 16 pounds, and drilled for my dad's left-handedness. Sinister (as opposed to dextrous), if you will. Actually, bowling right-handed with it, and with the funny grip that required, seemed the least my problems. I simply didn't feel strong enough to heave it around properly. My scores started going up when I switched to a lighter (and right-handed) ball.
England-Portugal and a car-wash on Saturday. Not sure what to say about the futbol game, except that by now Portugal is gearing up for the 3rd place game. I then washed the car (for the first time since early May) at Ian's place. Great spot to wash a car; he might be opening up a shop, so keep your eyes peeled. I'll do the whole treatment this weekend, including stripping off the old wax and doing the clay bar thing, just like last July 4. Look...everyone needs a hobby.
Sat night was another trip to Bluefin in Middleton, for sushi and (Red) sox, with all 2.5 of the Lynches. We made fun of Brett Myers (in ways that I am not going to repeat on the Internet), and (later) the highschool kids who drive minivans to Richardson's to eat ice cream, hit golf balls, and pickup girls.
Sunday was the laziest day of the whole week (and weekend). I drank iced coffee, read the NYer, napped, and basked in the air conditioning and treated myself to dinner at West Side Lounge. It's good to be the king.
Monday I vacuumed the car, and after some other shopping (turbinado sugar, beer...), I headed to a dog-friendly bbq, to meet up with humans Simone and Katie and others, and dogs Rocket J. and Emmett (the latter of whom is moving back to...Kansas? Missouri?). It was a super time, with lots of dog silliness, but was cut short by...
...Having a little send-off for Albert at the Publick House. Such beer! Rogue Imperial Stout on tap. A Belgian (beer) that some guy recommended. Mojo Ale. Racer 5. It was all paradise. A little more crowded than last time, but we started (and ended) later. The (un?)fortunately unused pickup line of the night was "Can you drive stick?"
Tuesday, the Fourth, was time for more bbq, this time at Casa Lynch, along with the Lofgrens, Murphys, and 1 (one) each of a Smith, O'Toole and Mosher. During a brief rain shower, the menfolk stood around on the deck, drinking beer and discussing weighty issues of the day; somewhat in the vein of a scene from King of the Hill, but funnier. THAT was cut short by...
...Jessica's 30th bday/housewarming/4th of July party, at her new manse in Cambridge. The usual bowling/pool-shooting/wine-on-self-spilling/Champagne-swilling suspects were there (along with Misy, the latest cool Dog Owned By Someone Else I've Had The Pleasure Of Meeting), and eventually we (all) sat on the porch watching Prospect Street hum with pre-fireworks excitement, smoking, and telling jokes. As the fireworks rolled around, we lay about in the park along Broadway (between Prospect and Norfolk, if you must know) and saw maybe a half or 2/3 of the fireworks being lit off from down on the river. The rest were hidden behind a building, which was a problem that was starting to afflict that neighborhood when I ived over there a few years ago. Not a bad display, and certainly worth not trekking down to the Mass Ave bridge, and it seemed a fitting symbolic end to the joys of a 4 (!) day weekend. Sure, my Chucks ended up getting quadruple-knotted, which made for some drama when I got home, but...quite a night.
And now, RL Burnside, a mint julep, and the impending sweet, sweet toil of a day of car detailing are lulling me to sleep. The next stage of random rants will have to wait.