Weekend Outings
Friday, we went to the Last Hurrah.
We lost John to the Sauce…
This could have been his lady friend but Greml’s stuck to his
drinking guns.
Saturday, we stole a friend’s convertible, another friend’s dogs, Pedro and Nina, as well as my parent’s sheriff, and took off for the countryside. Driving through the beautiful, historic Lexington and Concord, shooting by Ralph Waldo Emerson’s house on our way to the cemetary where he’s buried along with other famous writers: Thoreau, Hawthorne and Louisa May Alcott.
The dogs loved roaming freely in the grass, sniffing trees and paying their respect to the dead. Nina was particularly taken with Thoreau, a writer known for civil disobedience. I’m not sure how well read she is in the classics, but in Henry David Thoreau’s family plot, she singled out the author/activist and, in the ultimate act of civil disobedience, paid homage by taking a huge dump on his grave. I cannot think of a more honest tribute to his life and works.
Assessing damage as the perp flees the scene.
After this we went to Nashoba Vineyard and tasted some peach wine, strawberry wine, blueberry wine and locally brewed beer. This proved an outstanding day for the dogs. They enjoyed the tasting more than most.
Nina enjoyed it.
And Pedro, he enjoyed it.
Sunday, they hung out with uncle Dave.
Then the sheriff scored amazing tickets to the Sunday Stones
concert at Fenway Park. I don’t have any pictures but believe
me when I tell you:
The seats were good.
The seats were great.
We were sitting in the grass section a few rows away from the stage. Close enough to see the wind blow through Mick Jaggers hair. Far enough not to make out the wrinkles on his face. Watching him strut around swinging his hips like an aged gander was well worth it.
And when Sympathy for the Devil came on: SWEET.
Afterwards, as we were getting ready to go leave, the Sheriff and I were interviewed by someone from the Channel 7 News. On the way home, I explained to Dave how I hoped very much that I wouldn't be on the news. Please please please, make me not be on the news.
Once we were home, I naturally set the DVR* to tape every single news hour on channel 7 for the next 24 hours…
I was on the news.
But some stupid girl at the concert had fallen 40 feet from the rafters and gotten hurt. She became the main story and I was bumped very quickly from the news. What a ho!
*Digital Video Recorder, the best thing to ever happen to the Boston Dineens.
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We lost John to the Sauce…
 |  |  |
drinking guns.
Saturday, we stole a friend’s convertible, another friend’s dogs, Pedro and Nina, as well as my parent’s sheriff, and took off for the countryside. Driving through the beautiful, historic Lexington and Concord, shooting by Ralph Waldo Emerson’s house on our way to the cemetary where he’s buried along with other famous writers: Thoreau, Hawthorne and Louisa May Alcott.
The dogs loved roaming freely in the grass, sniffing trees and paying their respect to the dead. Nina was particularly taken with Thoreau, a writer known for civil disobedience. I’m not sure how well read she is in the classics, but in Henry David Thoreau’s family plot, she singled out the author/activist and, in the ultimate act of civil disobedience, paid homage by taking a huge dump on his grave. I cannot think of a more honest tribute to his life and works.
Assessing damage as the perp flees the scene.
After this we went to Nashoba Vineyard and tasted some peach wine, strawberry wine, blueberry wine and locally brewed beer. This proved an outstanding day for the dogs. They enjoyed the tasting more than most.
Nina enjoyed it.
And Pedro, he enjoyed it.
 |  |  |
Then the sheriff scored amazing tickets to the Sunday Stones
concert at Fenway Park. I don’t have any pictures but believe
me when I tell you:
The seats were good.
The seats were great.
We were sitting in the grass section a few rows away from the stage. Close enough to see the wind blow through Mick Jaggers hair. Far enough not to make out the wrinkles on his face. Watching him strut around swinging his hips like an aged gander was well worth it.
And when Sympathy for the Devil came on: SWEET.
Afterwards, as we were getting ready to go leave, the Sheriff and I were interviewed by someone from the Channel 7 News. On the way home, I explained to Dave how I hoped very much that I wouldn't be on the news. Please please please, make me not be on the news.
Once we were home, I naturally set the DVR* to tape every single news hour on channel 7 for the next 24 hours…
I was on the news.
But some stupid girl at the concert had fallen 40 feet from the rafters and gotten hurt. She became the main story and I was bumped very quickly from the news. What a ho!
*Digital Video Recorder, the best thing to ever happen to the Boston Dineens.
Vigdís deildi myndum klukkan 11:10 AM
