Driving rain, nostalgia, other things
Sep. 27th, 2002 08:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magidAnother good evening, though far too much driving.
Morning commute Cambridge-Needham: 30 minutes
Evening commute Needham-Worcester: 105 minutes
Night drive home Worcester-Cambridge: 45 minutes
I flew on the way home, despite the rain. It was a lot more satisfying than the drive out, getting on the parking lot frequently known as Route 495...
Why Worcester? I went to visit my parents.Obviously, I got there later than planned, but it worked out fine. It was a bit amazing how well things went, actually.
I saw the whole house again, looking much less totally 50s, though there are still some touches here and there. It helped that the furniture is there, and particularly that some of the art is up. There's still a ton of pictures stacked along a variety of walls, though, and I looked through them, remembering where they were in the house in Paxton, feeling nostalgic. It felt like I'd forgotten bits of myself that were now remembered, but there really wasn't anything more concrete than that. There were new pieces, too, an Agam over the fireplace, and a cool calligraphy/drawing double aleph-bet piece that Bobby had sent. And there were pieces from Nanny's apartment, too.
The kitchen was completely redone, and seems pretty functional, though lacking an optimal amount of storage. And they put in a half bath, wedged into a corner of the next room. It's not finished yet: they're in the middle of painting it a really bright orange (?). The space is tiny, so I suggested putting up some not-large framed mirrors (the frame being the art), to bounce the light around, make it feel a bit less tiny. Cool thing in their bathroom: a nightlight that goes on automatically when you turn off the lights (and vice versa). They've built in bookshelves in the big room in the basement, which aren't enough to hold all the books (no surprise). Mom's office has 2 computers crammed on a desk with room for one pair of legs underneath. Not an ideal situation. The room itself isn't where I'd choose to spend many hours a day, either. Her choice, though.
I had brought a bag of Mom's stuff, and in return, was given a shoebox of letters I was sent around 1990. I haven't looked through them yet, but I wonder what I'll find (I know there's at least one letter from the then-already-ex-boyfriend in there). And in looking through the massive piles of art (much of which I find I wouldn't choose for myself at all, though they are familiar, and comfortable for that), Mom offered me a small watercolor that I like, by Chris Gorey. (Note to Wolf: I didn't get the parallel portrait to yours, though I saw it. They have the other pair of portraits, too. Oh, and I have a book for you.) Maybe this will finally give me incentive to get things to the framing store...
We had dinner in the dining area that still has a wall of mirrors. I carefully sat where I wouldn't have to watch myself chew (made that mistake last time). Dad mentioned taking the mirror off the wall, definitely something I agree with, at least as such a large expanse.
After dinner we sat around talking, and I was amazed to hear, without actual direct questions (which I've never managed to them about certain things), about some (under control) health issues. Also money stuff. They *never* talk about stuff like that. It was easier to talk about my health stuff, and work issues, too. Maybe things are getting easier...
It was disconcerting to be in a place that was familiar, but not. This was the not-yet-familiar house with familiar things in it, but also driving around parts of Worcester I haven't been to in ages, seeing how it's similar, or not (harder on a dark rainy night, but still possible). I had had some similar things happen Wednesday at Brandeis: I saw the new student center, which officially opens next week, and the expanse of lawn around it, and finally realized that the parking lot that had been by Ford Hall (one of two original buildings at Brandeis, torn down to make way for the new building) was not coming back. Somehow this was as much a sadness than Ford Hall being gone. There have been so many changes to the campus since I graduated. I don't know why I have any emotions about this at all, but I do. The amphitheater I graduated from is gone. There's a bridge over South Street. The admissions are in a different building. Sherman cafeteria has been redone at least twice. Etc etc etc. Really, no matter of mine. And yet, it feels strange sometimes.
o
Morning commute Cambridge-Needham: 30 minutes
Evening commute Needham-Worcester: 105 minutes
Night drive home Worcester-Cambridge: 45 minutes
I flew on the way home, despite the rain. It was a lot more satisfying than the drive out, getting on the parking lot frequently known as Route 495...
Why Worcester? I went to visit my parents.Obviously, I got there later than planned, but it worked out fine. It was a bit amazing how well things went, actually.
I saw the whole house again, looking much less totally 50s, though there are still some touches here and there. It helped that the furniture is there, and particularly that some of the art is up. There's still a ton of pictures stacked along a variety of walls, though, and I looked through them, remembering where they were in the house in Paxton, feeling nostalgic. It felt like I'd forgotten bits of myself that were now remembered, but there really wasn't anything more concrete than that. There were new pieces, too, an Agam over the fireplace, and a cool calligraphy/drawing double aleph-bet piece that Bobby had sent. And there were pieces from Nanny's apartment, too.
The kitchen was completely redone, and seems pretty functional, though lacking an optimal amount of storage. And they put in a half bath, wedged into a corner of the next room. It's not finished yet: they're in the middle of painting it a really bright orange (?). The space is tiny, so I suggested putting up some not-large framed mirrors (the frame being the art), to bounce the light around, make it feel a bit less tiny. Cool thing in their bathroom: a nightlight that goes on automatically when you turn off the lights (and vice versa). They've built in bookshelves in the big room in the basement, which aren't enough to hold all the books (no surprise). Mom's office has 2 computers crammed on a desk with room for one pair of legs underneath. Not an ideal situation. The room itself isn't where I'd choose to spend many hours a day, either. Her choice, though.
I had brought a bag of Mom's stuff, and in return, was given a shoebox of letters I was sent around 1990. I haven't looked through them yet, but I wonder what I'll find (I know there's at least one letter from the then-already-ex-boyfriend in there). And in looking through the massive piles of art (much of which I find I wouldn't choose for myself at all, though they are familiar, and comfortable for that), Mom offered me a small watercolor that I like, by Chris Gorey. (Note to Wolf: I didn't get the parallel portrait to yours, though I saw it. They have the other pair of portraits, too. Oh, and I have a book for you.) Maybe this will finally give me incentive to get things to the framing store...
We had dinner in the dining area that still has a wall of mirrors. I carefully sat where I wouldn't have to watch myself chew (made that mistake last time). Dad mentioned taking the mirror off the wall, definitely something I agree with, at least as such a large expanse.
After dinner we sat around talking, and I was amazed to hear, without actual direct questions (which I've never managed to them about certain things), about some (under control) health issues. Also money stuff. They *never* talk about stuff like that. It was easier to talk about my health stuff, and work issues, too. Maybe things are getting easier...
It was disconcerting to be in a place that was familiar, but not. This was the not-yet-familiar house with familiar things in it, but also driving around parts of Worcester I haven't been to in ages, seeing how it's similar, or not (harder on a dark rainy night, but still possible). I had had some similar things happen Wednesday at Brandeis: I saw the new student center, which officially opens next week, and the expanse of lawn around it, and finally realized that the parking lot that had been by Ford Hall (one of two original buildings at Brandeis, torn down to make way for the new building) was not coming back. Somehow this was as much a sadness than Ford Hall being gone. There have been so many changes to the campus since I graduated. I don't know why I have any emotions about this at all, but I do. The amphitheater I graduated from is gone. There's a bridge over South Street. The admissions are in a different building. Sherman cafeteria has been redone at least twice. Etc etc etc. Really, no matter of mine. And yet, it feels strange sometimes.
o