Day 318

Wave, bench, woman, dog.

Yesterday the boys went off to look at Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island, took the commuter rail down there, to spend the night with friends who are attending the school, to be collected today from South Station at about 2pm.

So Tim and I went to Swampscott, which is on the way, kind of, because Tim wanted to take long-exposure images of the sea for an assignment.  The sky was stormy and the sea very wild and beautiful today, fascinating several walkers who stood and watched its power as did we. 

However, the boys' train was delayed, so, having two hours longer than we had thought, we went into a restaurant for a late lunch, and the very pretty waitress spoke only to me the entire time, not wanting to be rude and stare at Tim's face.  Looking at the red marks caused by the medication, one could take them for those unfortunate birthmarks that are called "port wine stains" in some quarters.  Tim took this picture of me thinking about all this.

Yesterday I had to drive the boys' car home from the station where Nick had parked it before going to his Saturday morning course in Boston.  I have no idea how to adjust the sound system, especially while I am driving, so had to listen to a cd they had burned.  I like quite a lot of their music, so first came Kid Cudy, who is not too bad, then another 3 songs which were pretty good, I'm not sure by whom, and then a bad rap song began, and I, a captive listener, heard every word.  And I know I am showing my age, but I think I would loathe this "music" no matter what age I was, with every second word a swearword, and disrespectful language towards women, and just a kind of awful misogynistic message in general.  Why do these young black men want to portray themselves in this way?  And why is this "music" so popular, even with my own children, who have been raised to respect women as equals?

So I'm driving along, through a small town, with the window down due to the beautiful sunny air of yesterday, when I come up behind a car with a huge brown bear-faced dog hanging out of the window, tongue happily flapping in the breeze, staring at everything going by, including me.  And at a traffic light stop, I pull up beside another dog enjoying the weather, this time a tiny little chihuahua-type dog, all decked out in a coat, being held by a hand belonging to an unseen person, holding on to a kind of handle on the top of its knitted coat, otherwise it would be leaping right out of the window, such is its eager stance, its sniffing of the wondrous odour-filled air. 

I didn't run today as I seem to have succumbed to Tim's cold, and my legs were a little stiff, so I gave them a holiday.