...the Journal

The Guest
Refrigerator Door

Today's guest magnet is from Terri of Seventh Sister, whose description follows.

This one is special to me because it was given to me around the time my old Beagle dog, Chrissy, was winding down on a long and wonderful life of loyalty and love to our family. She was a peach of a dog and is much missed. I have often stated that I feel dog's have much to teach us in the ways of loyalty and unconditional love...this magnet was just so appropriate. She died not long after I received this magnet from my kids. Every time I look at it on my refrigerator, I think of her with fondness (and not a little mist in
the eye).

Household Hints


A Medieval Home Companion:
Housekeeping in the 14th Century

taking a hiatus until I recuperate from the Boston trip.

Here are some of my theatre reviews, if you're interested.

Updated 3/10/01


In a Sunburned Country
by Bill Bryson



That's it for today!


11 April 2001

I am happy to report that spring is in the air and sex is alive and well and flourishing on the streets of Boston.

That would be avian sex, that is. We were sitting in the sun in Boston Commons yesterday afternoon and I suddenly noticed that we were surrounded by male pigeons all fluffed up and looking proud as peacocks, courting the coy females, who pretended not to notice. But then there would be a quick slam-bam-thank-you-maíam and the birds would go off in their separate directions, the male looking for another conquest. It was really quite remarkable. I think itís fair to say that Bostonís bird population is not facing extinction in the next season.

The stop at Boston Commons was kind of the "intermission" of a very full day, which began with my happy traipse off to Kinkoís to have some Internet time while the slug-a-beds continued to snore away happily. Kinkoís is a marvelous place. I felt relaxed for the first time since arriving in Boston to discover that the motel had no internet connection.

When everyone had finally showered and dressed, we drove over to Jeriís. She had rearranged her schedule and had half a day for us, and figured spending time with us would help her forget her nerves about the impending concert.

We went to a lovely coffee shop and had delicious food and lots of laughs. And then, in driving from there to Berklee School of music, we passed gorgeous homes. I thought we were in the "red light district," since so many lamp posts have red bulbs on them--but I discovered that the red light signifies a fire call box. How dull. I liked my version better!

At Berklee, we met Jeriís co-workers and then she ran off to class while we had a few hours to kill. We took the "T" downtown and did some shopping at the famous Fileneís Basement, where everything is on sale and the price goes down each day. Iím still not quite sure how that works, but I was so taken by the HUGE sock department that I had to buy sox for Peggy, and Walt bought himself a new jacket.

We stopped at McDonaldís for something to drink and then went to watch pigeon sex for awhile. Finally we headed back out to Berklee, where we found a nice Thai restaurant across the street from the concert hall where we had a lovely, leisurely dinner. We were all pretty tired from all the walking--and I, for one, was just glad to get out of the "T" at rush hour. I hadnít felt that claustrophobic in years.

But then it was time for The Main Event. The Berklee College of Musicís Professional Writing Divisionís Awards Concert. Jeri had won the Arif Marden Scholarship and was chosen to have her composition, "I need to know" (the musical setting of a scene from The Rose Tattoo) presented. Someone else had written the lyrics; Jeri wrote and arranged the music and conducted the 40 piece orchestra which played it. It was incredible to be sitting ther watching her and listening to her music. I felt as puffed up and proud as those pigeons strugging around in Boston Commons. We wouldnít have missed it for the world.

One Year Ago:
It's Raining Dogs

Some pictures from this journal
can be found at
Club Photo

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Created 4/4/01 by Bev Sykes