Walden and Sleepy Hollow - Liz Version

So you can see from Rick's earlier post we went to Walden Pond and Sleepy Hollow Cemetery last weekend. Both are located in Concord, MA about 35 minutes from our house. Concord is what you would expect, old with lots of touristy shops.

It's so nerdy, but I was super excited to visit Author's Ridge at Sleepy Hollow. I am quite the Louisa May Alcott fan. Now, I think there are two kinds of LMA fans: those who love Little Women, Jo's Boys, etc. and those who know that she penned quite a few gothic thrillers, short stories, and romantic novellas. I am the latter. At Gustavus, I was lucky enough to take a J-Term class (month long, 3 hour per day class) all about LMA my Freshman year. Not only did we read a diverse selection of her works but learned about her life. She really held her family together.

Her father, Bronson Alcott, was a total weirdo. While he did hang out with prominent people, like Emerson and Thoreau, and spoke openly against slavery he was better know for being a Transcendentalist. Now don't get me wrong, I kind of like the transcendental ideas but not enough to start a small community around them. Bronson started "Fruitlands," a small utopian community in Massachusetts. Turns out it wasn't such a good idea. One thing that stuck in my mind about "Fruitlands" was that they were only allowed to wear linen. This was because cotton was from slave labor and wool came from sheep (sheep slavery apparently). They really figured out this utopian, vegtable only eating, linen wearing society wouldn't work once the cold New England winter hit. Duh!

Anyways, here is a pic of LMA's grave (small headstone) with the large Alcott Family grave marker in the back:

Walden Pond was really amazing. Like Rick posted, it's actually pretty small but quite deep. The deepest part is over 100 feet deep. The pond was created be a retreating glacier during the last glaciation. After Thoreau spent his time at the pond in 1840's, people started frequenting the pond for swimming and leisure. An amusement park was built in the late 1860's with swings, concessions, running/biking trails, boats, bathhouses, and a dancehall. Lucky for us it burnt to the ground in 1902. Can you imagine Walden Pond with all that junk around it???

At any rate, it is now a registered National Historic Landmark. Many people do drive to the park in the summer to swim. We have heard that the Department of Conservation and Recreation closely monitors the number of people at the park and will restrict entrance to the park during the height of summer. Here are a few more photos from Walden Pond:

I do look forward to going back in the summer. I'll wade into the lake a bit but I'm freaked out about how deep it is!! It's no secret that I hate water, but I think I can stick a toe or two into Walden Pond on a hot 90 degree day this summer.

We'll keep you posted on our nerdy adventures throughout New England.

Walden

We went to Walden Pond last weekend. It was pond like. It's maybe 25% larger than our little lake in MN, although it is about 10x deeper. It has pickerel, which I always thought were northerns (apparently they are different), and small mouth. Thoreau's cabin is gone but they have the original dimensions staked out. It was not large.

We also went to Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, but not the headless horseman one because it is in NY. This one has the graves of several famous authors. They looked like names carved into stone.







We ate well this weekend, had some southwest-inspired tapas on Friday night, salmon benedict Saturday morning, and prime rib in the evening.

The Community Center

Since we no longer have exercise facilities like we did at our apartment, and our basement is a depressing place with few level spots for a treadmill, we joined the Roslindale Community Center for our fitness needs. It's nothing fancy, a running track, a couple treadmills, one of which usually works, one functional rowing machine, one functional stationary bike and a weight machine. One of the treadmills was apparently designed by Doc Brown, but instead of time traveling when it hits 88 MPH, this machine stops on a dime when it hits about 12 MPH. I've broken it twice and tonight was the first night it was up and running in about a month. I stayed off of it. Note, I do not run 12 MPH, the speedometer is ~25% fast by my calculations.

But the place has its charms. The fitness area overlooks a basketball court where they have youth basketball practice. If you can't get a small kick out of watching 3-9 year-old kids run practice drills, man, you're dead inside. If you get TOO big of a kick out of watching young kids run practice drills, however, please do not become my child's scout master. There's a cute little girl who always wears a pink t-shirt and socks to match her pink basketball, and a very determined little Asian kid, maybe three years old, who despite throwing every ounce of force he can muster behind every shot, has never propelled a ball to rim height. When he makes his first basket I shall rush the court and carry him off on my shoulders.

Recently, they've started giving youth golf lessons a couple nights a week. The first night, the long winded, Ricky Riccardoesque instructor went over lots of boring stuff like golf safety and etiquette, eventually making them practice ducking and covering when he yelled fore. Although important, watching their enthusiasm turn to bored frustration as the minutes ticked by without them getting to so much as hold a club was rather entertaining. Kids are not known for their ability to hide their emotions. Tonight, they actually got to hit whiffle balls off mats. One kid was a natural and was quickly launching balls up onto the running track. I had a mini chuckle when I whizzed about two feet in front of Liz's face as she ran by.

The place is not all cute kids and sound cardiovascular health, however. There is a mother and daughter that come in once or twice a week with the daughter's four young children. As the adults hog the treadmills and walk, literally, as slow as is physically possible to walk (think Israelites hauling pyramid stones), the kids run amok. Now, I know it's a community center and not the Boston Athletic Club, it costs 50$ a year for a family membership and it is there for the use of the whole community, but come on. First, they constantly get off the treadmills to go yell at the kids, greatly prolonging the time their "workouts" take. Second, why don't you just walk around the running track, or do something else with requiring a similar level of exertion like stand in your living room with one arm held above your head. Why don't I just run around the track, you ask? I do, but it's so small that it hurts my ankles to take the turns at the lightning speed at which I run. Tonight, when grandma finally vacated her mill and I stepped on, the youngest kid, now forced/expected to sit quietly in a chair between the machines while his mom lumbered, held out his hand to me in a "give me something" gesture as his older sister twirled around one of the roof support beams (a pole, if you will). I may have uttered the phrase "Better get used to it, kids," but it was definitely said out the side of my mouth and was almost certainly inaudible. Another regular comes in with his girlfriend (also a molasses treadmill walker) and smells very, very bad. Like when he runs around the track his musk permeates the whole gymnasium bad. Although they are probably Haitian they speak, I kid you not, French. What is it about that language that renders you incapable of basic hygiene. I know I should be happy that the economically challenged are being proactive about physical activity, but I'll mostly just be happy when it's nice enough to run outside. OK, off to my Archie Bunker chair to watch The Office.

Pretty Good Week

Last week was a pretty good week. The week was shaped by three small but exciting events.

Employment - Yes, that's right, I'm finally employed. Now, it's not my dream job but it will help pay the bills and get me out of the house. I'll be tutoring high school kids that are out of school on medical leave. In the state of Massachusetts, the school districts are responsible for providing tutors to these students. My first tutoring "gig" is today, I'll be tutoring 10th grade Biology.

Deal - There is a Savers about 3 miles away from our house that I enjoy lurking in. I'm always hoping to find the next hidden treasure, the vintage piece that someone is too dumb to appreciate so they give away, take the tax deduction and go about their business. Well, I haven't exactly found diamonds, vintage Chanel or the Holy Grail, but I did get an insanely good deal on a clutch last week. Taupe, late 70s/early 80s, leather clutch. The best part? It was only $2.99. Suckers.



Scrabble - Please refer to the last sentence of Rick's January 26th post, "...I am unbeatable in Scrabble, which makes me feel...umm, good." I am pleased to report that he has been beaten. Here are the details...

It was a cold and dark Saturday night. Our tummies were full of steak tacos and we were not interested in watching a movie so out came the Scrabble board. Now, I have come close to beating Rick in the past couple months. He is a very frustrating person to play with. Every time I had a great word like "avoid" he'd ad "ed" for "avoided". Or I would play "event" and he would put "pr" on the front of the word for "prevent". He's a bit of a word mooch. I don't feel that he ever contributes to the playability of the board. By that I mean making long words in open spots on the board so there are more areas to place words.

So, on Saturday night, I had played the word "fade". Rick then played the word "jest" using the "s" in "jest" to add onto "fade" to make "fades". Now I was not pleased with this move and was wondering if it was legal. I thought the "s" had to already be on the board for him to build off of it. We needed to call for clarification. Rick's sister, Alli, is fair and knowledgeable about board games so she was our first call. No answer. Our second choice for this very important decision was Stacey, Rick's cousin, also a connoisseur of Scrabble. She did not provide the answer I was hoping. Finally, we called my mom for a second opinion. She's not one to lie or twist the truth for family when it comes to Scrabble. The woman has played that game more than anyone else I know. She and my aunt would sit up late on Saturday nights and play when we were kids. They know every "q" word that doesn't need an "u"! She confirmed that Rick was correct.

So, "jest" and "fades" landed Rick 66 points. Arrrgg. Now let me tell you I was pretty peeved because not only did he get the 66 points, but he did a jig. Yes, a little dance next to the dining room table. This was war. The game went on and came down to the last tiles. I played my final tile. Rick's turn, he couldn't make anymore words with his tiles. Scrabble rules then dictate that he must subtract his tile points from his score and since I used all my tiles I get to add them to my score. Final score....Liz 234, Rick 225.

Here's the board to prove it:



So all in all, it was a pretty good week.

Jonah

I learned that jonah is an improper noun today. It means someone who brings misfortune to those around him. I couldn't find a word for someone who can't shut up about a good thing and karmicly jonahs themselves in the process, but that's what I seem to do on this blog. Exhibit A would be a previous post about how winter here is a joke. As I sat and watched another six inches of lily white inconvenience fall on top of an already abnormal yearly total yesterday, I realized I probably shouldn't have been trash talking in Dec. Exhibit B would be my previous assertion of Scrabbicular invincibility, about which Liz is currently drafting a blogospheric comeuppance.

Anyways, as I hiked from the mile from my orange line stop to my job over treacherous snow covered brick sidewalks for the umpteenth time, I was thinking about how awesome I am at avoiding falls. I think most north country natives have either an innate or quickly learned skill at ice walking, so I'm not saying I'm above average for a Minnesotan. But after reading several articles about the huge number of immigrants from hotter climes who end up in the ER with broken bones every winter, I think it's fair to say I'm above the worldwide average. Don't worry Chad, even MN natives are allowed one digger per year and it doesn't count if alcohol or dog walking was involved.

There are several moves one needs to master in order to become an ice ninja. The most basic is the "penguin shuffle" which requires not pushing off on the balls of your feet, keeping even pressure across the entire foot, and moving your legs and hips as a block. A key move for the walking to work crowd is the splash-free gait, which requires keeping your feet parallel to the ground so as not to fling salty slush up the back of your pants. But the most difficult and most critical move is the slip recovery. I'm not sure this one can be taught and there's probably not one foolproof technique that works in all situations, but I think the key points are:

1. Go with the slide. If you make too sudden of a move you're done.
2. Maintain a center of gravity.
3. Throw up a counterweight. Arm and non-sliding leg need to act in concert.
4. Hope you stop sliding and can get both feet back on terra fricare before balance is lost.
5. Smile sheepishly at anyone who witnessed your near miss.

I pulled a spectacular recovery a few weeks ago but unfortunately nobody was there to see it. So there you have it; I've damned myself to a painful and embarrassing meet and greet with the sidewalk. Watch for my next post titled "There's Absolutely No Way I'll Fall Ass Backwards Into A Large Personal Fortune and Live Out My Days In Blissful Leisure."