Date #5 - Set 'em up, Spin 'em round, Knock 'em down...

Let's go bowling.

So TH picked date #5 and we went bowling. (okay it wasn't wrestling so I didn't complain). And bowling definitely counts as a date we haven't done together recently or, for that matter, since before we were married...when we were actually dating. And you know what, it was fun and we had a lot of laughs.

I had made plans to go bowling the week before with my high school girlfriends, and when I told TH he was a little disappointed. That's when he told me he had been planning that for our next date. As it turns out, I was sick in bed on the day the girls went bowling and I couldn't join them.

On Sunday morning we went out for brunch with two couples that are our oldest friends. The guys are TH's childhood pals and we try to get together several times a year....but definitely every January for Sunday brunch. We had a great time, as we always do...but once we were back home we realized we had the rest of Sunday ahead of us with nothing to do (and the Patriots were out of the playoffs). That's when TH announced it was date time. (I'm so excited that he is really embracing this concept.) Plus I needed some exercise to work off the huge buffet we had just devoured.

So off we went to Boston Bowl. On the way we tried to recall the last time we'd been bowling together and we couldn't remember even one time since we'd been married. Oh, we had been to Boston Bowl many times prior, they are open all night long and it was always a popular place to end dates after the clubs closed. I was on the bowling team in high school, and TH and I were both in a league sponsored by the bar that sponsored his softball team before we were married. Both of those teams bowled at Lucky Strikes, another local bowling alley.

When our sons were growing up we took them to many bowling alleys, usually when they attended birthday parties, but neither of us could ever remember bowling with the kids. Often TH took the boys on his own, but he said they played games in the arcade, or they shot pool...but never bowled. And TH and I remembered having breakfast at the cafe inside the bowling alley many, many, many times...but apparently we never bowled on those occasions either. Weird.

This bowling alley has both ten pin and candlepin. We had always bowled candlepin (little balls). For a few minutes we contemplated trying ten pin...that would have been a brand new experience for both of us. But we didn't even know how many balls to roll for each frame. And then we each picked up a ball and practiced swinging our arms and decided NAH...those balls are pretty heavy. We'll stick with the little balls.

Now bowling is pretty intuitive....there is no learning curve involved here. It's not like riding a bike or skiing, you can stay away for thirty-five years and get right back in the groove after rolling the first ball. But the experience has certainly changed. For starters, everything is digital! There are TV monitors everywhere.

While you're bowling you can watch poker, football, advertisements, or your own scorecard. However, it was sensory overload, like a casino, with all the noises and blinking lights. Apparently on weekend nights they even have something called Cosmic Bowling where they turn off the lights and flood everything in neon. Yikes!


Oh...something else that was new....the lanes had bumpers along the gutters. What? no gutter balls? There were some little kids bowling in the alley adjacent to ours, and (not intentionally) their balls were banking off the bumpers and knocking down far more pins than we were hitting when we rolled our balls straight down the lane. It was crazy. We found out afterwards that the bumpers are removed for league play, and we could have requested they be lowered, as well.

You don't even have to keep score anymore while bowling, it's all done automatically for you. Good thing...because I'm not sure either of us would have remembered how to keep score. But that meant no more cheating or practice balls...every roll down the alley is recorded electronically. We only bowled one string because, quite frankly, we both sucked. Those little kids next to us did better than we did. And TH beat me soundly by 11 points, but that's not saying much!

I think one of the reasons I stayed away from bowling for more than three decades is my aversion to putting my foot into rental shoes that complete strangers have sweat in. But lo and behold, now with the price of the shoe rental, you receive a brand new pair of socks. Of course they have the business logo on them and you would never want to wear them again, LOL.

Just to be on the safe side, I had also brought an extra pair of my own socks....so I had to order a size 9 shoe to accommodate the three pair of socks. TH thought I was insane, but what else is new?

When we turned our shoes in, they let us donate our new socks to charity. Really? We did of course, because we had no further use for them. However, I couldn't help but picture all these homeless people in shelters walking around with socks that say "Boston Bowl" "Open24/7" on them. Hmmmm. Now I am wondering if this was really a scam and the socks are just being washed in the back room and passed off again as brand new to unsuspecting shoe renters. Okay, call me paranoid.

On the way home we discussed how weird it was to not have done something for 35 years. It's hard to believe we are actually old enough to say we haven't done something in 35 years!

...and when we stop to realize how quickly those 35 years passed, it's difficult to fathom that we probably won't even be alive 35 years from now. I have a feeling we won't let that many years go by again before we go bowling.

Date #4 - the Bad Samaritan and the Baton Guy

After two snow days with nothing to do but shovel and catch up with my DVR, I decided we needed a date nite. After all, it had been 13 days since our last date.

Oh...we had been out together often in those 13 days....but nothing that qualified as an official date. So, the minute TH arrived home from work Thursday afternoon, I announced it was date nite.

Now I fully expected TH to complain or beg off. This poor guy is out the door by 4am every day. He spends much of his day outside in the elements down at the fish pier where it can be brutally cold. So unless we are going to play with grandson CB, he wants nothing more after work than to land on the couch under his heated electric throw (the best present he EVER received) with remote in hand.

TH didn't even complain when I explained we would be taking the bus to the Copley Library to hear Keith Lockhart as part of the Lowell Lecture Series. However, he thought I meant the #11 bus that runs right by our house. But that would involve a connection...completely unnecessary, when just five short blocks from our home we could catch the #9 bus that would deliver us to the library's front door.

Did I mention that the first three blocks of those short five blocks are completely UPHILL? That's when TH finally started to complain. But at least he didn't complain about the cold, despite the 11 chilly degrees. As neither of us is in very good shape, by the time we reached the bus stop we had worked up quite a sweat.

The bus was rather crowded at 5pm, so we sat in the front two seats....those reserved for the elderly or disabled. TH felt we met one of the requirements LOL (but we would have been prepared to give up our seats if needed). Directly across from us, occupying the middle of three seats, was a gentleman who was sound asleep - sitting upright (or as upright as you can be when you are inebriated and riding on a city bus navigating narrow streets on the day following a blizzard). He was fairly clean and didn't look to be homeless or a vagrant.

We didn't recognize him, but he appeared to be a construction worker, mid 40s (wearing a green do-rag with shamrocks and a union pin on his jacket), who maybe stopped off and had one-too-many on his way home. But hell, it was only 5pm. And given the weather, maybe he hadn't worked at all that day.

Nonetheless, he nodded and swayed with every turn the bus made and rarely opened  his eyes. He provided some lively entertainment for the tired commuters, but nobody bothered him. We watched in amazement as he listed pretty far in either direction, but never fell over. And no matter how crowded the bus continued to get, nobody took the open seats on either side of him.

Nearing the end of the line, we assumed this dude had missed his stop at some point, as he didn't seem the type who lived in Copley Square. Although he was sitting directly behind the bus driver, he was hidden from view by a large partition, so we wondered exactly how long he had been riding the #9 that evening.

When we were a block from Copley, I stood up and attempted to wake the guy. TH tried to stop me, but I thought I was being a good samaritan. He opened his eyes long enough for me to ask if he'd missed his stop, but promptly shut them again as he shook his head. So me...being the busybody I can't help but be, pointed him out to the bus driver who quickly responded, "Doesn't matter if he missed his stop, I'm kicking him out here."

And sure enough, the bus driver let us off and followed us down the steps where he asked all the frigid commuters waiting on the sidewalk to please wait a moment longer while he removed a passenger. I was aghast. We didn't stay to watch him do it, because it was just minutes before 6pm when the lecture was scheduled to begin and we were afraid there might not be seats left for the free event. But I can assure you, I felt absolutely horrible. I couldn't believe that I was suddenly responsible for putting another human being out in the bitter cold. I had only tried to help. I couldn't get him out of my mind the rest of the nite, and I still haven't forgotten him. Why didn't I listen to TH?

Nonetheless, we ran into the library and entered the Rabb Lecture Hall only to stop and look around in utter amazement. In an auditorium that seats around 350 people, there were (maybe) 50 people in the hall.

.......To listen to Keith Lockhart speak.

......For free.

We took our seats down near the front but I kept turning around and thinking, 'surely there is a private cocktail reception going on somewhere and any moment throngs of people will enter the auditorium'. But I was wrong. And as the honored guest appeared on stage, to surely the quietest smattering of applause he has ever received, I was actually embarrassed for him.

This is the Lowell Lecture Series, people. The Lowell Institute of Boston has been sponsoring this and other great lecture series throughout the city, free of charge, since 1836. Their specific mission is "making great ideas accessible to all people." Charles Dickens was one of their early speakers. My understanding is that they pay the lecturers hefty fees for their appearances. 

This was the first nite of the 2011 series at the Boston Public Library that will be featuring 'Boston's Best' with Keith Lockhart as the headline speaker. We are so fortunate to live in such a culturally rich city where we have the opportunity to witness great masters as they ply their trades in the arts, academia, and athletics. Unfortunately, I think all too often we take for granted our bounty of riches....I know that I'm guilty....and don't partake of all our great city has to offer.

This nite was a perfect example. Sure we've all seen Keith Lockhart perform at the Christmas Pops or the 4th of July on the Esplanade. And if we haven't seen him in person, we've seen him on TV and heard him on the radio. Well, so have people in Japan, Italy, Australia, and Ecuador. But they don't take him for granted, and they can't hang out with him at the local library. It will be a pity if events like this cease to exist due to lack of interest.

Okay....I'm climbing down off my soapbox.

I do think Keith Lockhart was also taken aback by the size of the audience, but of course the weather served as the perfect defense. He thanked everyone profusely for braving the cold, and he invited everyone to move down into the front seats since it was such an intimate crowd. He waited patiently while most attendees changed their seats. He then spoke for about 30 minutes and what he had to say was fascinating. He was also pretty easy on the eyes!

But midway through, I stopped staring at the hottie on the stage long enough to glance over at TH who was by then doing a pretty good imitation of the dude on the bus. Are you kidding me!?

As if Keith Lockhart wasn't humbled enough... now he finds himself speaking to this old guy sitting right in front of him WITH HIS EYES CLOSED! Seriously, if I was the speaker I would have pitched my water bottle at  him. Instead TH got my foot planted firmly on his, which elicited the same response my sons and I have witnessed for years during mass (or whenever someone tried to remove the remote from his sleeping hands)....the eyes flew open wide and he muttered, "I'm awake."

Keith Lockhart continued on...we learned a bit about his predecessors, Arthur Fiedler, and John Willliams, and the good fortune that brought him to such an esteemed position at the young age of 35. He did touch on one topic that always strikes a nerve...the near extinction of arts education in our schools. (But that's another soapbox you don't want me to climb on)! Then he proclaimed that he was a much better talker than he was a public speaker, so he opened the last 30 minutes to questions.

And he fielded some tough ones with great diplomacy. There were some savvy symphony devotees in the crowd and they knew their stuff. But there were also some fun questions; about Shaq's stint as a guest conductor (he complained afterwards that his arms were sore); and one person actually had the nerve to ask exactly what the conductor did, other than wave his baton.

Unfortunately, he was limited to just one hour...and we hated to see it end. The hostess then announced that Keith Lockhart would join us in the lobby shortly afterward to autograph Boston Pops CDs that Barnes and Nobles staff were selling. We decided not to stick around because, although I would have loved to chat with Keith Lockhart, we had no intention of buying any CDs that evening. It would have been like attending a friend's Tupperware party and leaving empty-handed.

Now it was only 7:00, and we were hungry. We'd scarfed down a quick meatloaf dinner before leaving the house, but that had been at 4:30 (talk about an early bird special) so we decided to grab dessert, or at least a drink. I wanted more than anything to go to Pinkberry's, but that would have meant a walk of several blocks on a frigid nite, so we opted for the Prudential Center next door. After walking around the mall and surveying our options, we decided on the Cheesecake Factory. Although we have been to this restaurant chain many times, we never went JUST for dessert, so we didn't technically break our rule....just severely bent it.

However, choosing our cheesecake was a whole other matter...it was just so hard to decide. They really should offer a tasting sampler where you can purchase a tiny sliver of 3-5 different flavors. And when we voiced that opinion to our server, she assured us we weren't the first to suggest this.

Hello, Cheesecake Factory corporate heads...give the consumer what they want, please.

We each selected something decadent and decided to forego the drinks. I had gained seven lbs between Thanksgiving and New Years, and had managed to lose three of them quickly by avoiding the carbs. So on this night, I chose what I thought was the lesser of the two evils (cheese doesn't have any carbs, right?) LOL.

Needless to say, we should have split one portion, but instead we each ordered our own and licked the platters clean! Bad decision! We rolled ourselves out the door and down the street to the bus stop, feeling like tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum. (I knew we should have gone to Pinkberry)!

The ride home was uneventful, except that we sat with two young girls we knew. They were on their way home from the gym....and were making plans to attend a spin class together the next morning before work. All we could think of was how much we'd just ingested. That, and getting home into bed and trying to stay awake for Jersey Shore!

Once off the bus, it was another five cold downhill blocks to our home, and the temperature was still dropping. On the way, we discussed our date and how we really needed to pump up the excitement for future dates. TH announced that he always wanted to see a wrestling match. Whaaat? Wrestling?...really?

I reminded him that he had surely taken the boys to wrestling matches at the Garden, but he couldn't remember. So I phoned each of our sons and they assured me that YES they went to wrestling matches with their dad when they were younger. But, then they each surprised me by saying they thought it was a great idea and that I should let TH take me to a wrestling event for one of our dates.

Really?

It wasn't enough that I let him pick The Fighter for our last date and I had to watch humans get pummeled on the screen? Now I have to watch fat guys in tights slam each other around in a fake fight? and pay big bucks for the pleasure? I think I'd rather have my gums scaled without novocaine.

But after all, TH is entitled to pick one date a month. Let's just hope the wrestling matches are like the circus that only comes once a year....and that I'm out of town on that day.

Date #3 - Finally Fireworks!

New Year's Eve probably shouldn't count as one of our 35 dates (nor should birthdays or Valentine's Day when we are EXPECTED to celebrate) but....as I explained in the preceding post... since we haven't truly been awake at midnite on NYE since 2006, and we weren't invited to any parties, we made specific plans to celebrate this year... and thus it's a date!

This was TH's date to plan. TH didn't choose any of the First Nite festivities because those are geared more for families with kids. TH really wanted to take one of the Boston Harbor cruises to view the fireworks, however there was just one "fireworks-only" cruise that lasted one hour, but that was alcohol-free and it was sold out (aw shucks). All the other cruises involved dinner/dancing/drinking from 8pm to 1am.

FIVE HOURS!?  No thanks, (we all remember what happened to Gilligan and co. on their three-hour tour). I didn't want to be held captive anywhere for five hours (especially with only TH for company...what on earth would we talk about for five consecutive hours?...and how much alcohol would we consume?)

Ultimately TH decided on a movie, Chinese food, and fireworks. And since I had already nixed his plan for the cruise, I let him select the movie (I wanted 'Black Swan') and the food (I wanted Thai....which he pronounces THIGH no matter how many times he's corrected LOL). Since group dates are allowed, we hoped our best friends (M&J) would join us, but J wanted no part of it. And furthermore, when TH explained to J the concept of our 35 dates, his response was: "Dump her. Too expensive."

We saw The Fighter, which was okay, although watching humans get pummeled is not my idea of entertainment. I did enjoy all the females in the movie, however. LMAO. They reminded me of so many women from Southie and were well worth the price of admission. (Which by the way was $1 less for TH with his senior discount, LOL).

From there it was on to Cathay Pacific which was a show in itself. There was a live band in the lounge, and about 80 people in the lobby waiting to pick up their take-out orders (since this is the only Chinese restaurant I ever heard of that doesn't deliver). With all this entertainment, we didn't mind the 20 minute wait to be seated and, wouldn't you know, TH meets up with an old Southie boxer (who knows Micky Ward and Dickie Ekland well) and together they reviewed The Fighter and gave it just one boxing glove.

Now, if anyone is paying attention, I know our ground rules say that dinner must be at a new restaurant that we haven't tried before. But TH has decided to apply a 10-year rule, and since we haven't dined together at this restaurant since at least the last century, TH deemed it acceptable.

After too much food, and several Pineapple Passion and Love Potion drinks, we were ready to be rolled home. However, the fortune in my cookie stated:

ooooh.....so it was on to the fireworks!

Now the mere mention of fireworks is enough to make us laugh out loud, because they always elicit fond memories of our first date. And as we rode by the scene of the crime last evening, we couldn't help reminiscing about July 4th, 1973.

Truthfully, we don't even remember if this was our first OFFICIAL date (cut us some slack, it was 37 years ago and I can't recall much that happened even 37 days ago) but it's the one date that we apparently have yet to forget.

I had met TH the year before when I started working at Dunkin Donuts. (Yes I met a baker at a donut shop!) In that year, we spent a lot of time together, mostly in large groups because my friends and I were still in high school and he and his roommate let us hang out at their apartment. The only time we spent alone was when TH and I rode bikes together, which we did often, all over the city. But those weren't dates; we were just good friends. (and someday remind me to tell you about our first bike ride)

My weekend shift at the donut shop started at 6am, and sometimes TH would just be stumbling home at that hour. If I had to work on holidays, I liked to dress in costume to commemorate the occasion. So on this particular 4th of July, I dressed up as a firecracker (wearing a red swimming cap with pipecleaners and Christmas tinsel sticking out of the top) and walked the three blocks from my home to work. TH was on the other side of the avenue when he spotted me, but thought he was hallucinating (hey, it was the 70s) and he continued on home.

When he awoke hours later and came to the donut shop for a cup of tea, TH realized it wasn't a bad trip he'd been on after all...it was only me! Then he invited me to the beach later that evening to watch the fireworks, and I accepted. Just the two of us...at nite...I guess that counts as a first date.

Back then, the 4th of July fireworks in Boston were set off in the outer harbor, and visible from most of the area beaches. (The esplanade spectacular only became popular after the bicentennial in 1976 and soon became the only fireworks display in Boston on the 4th). We both lived in Dorchester at the time and could have easily walked to Carson Beach, but TH wanted to drive over to Tenean Beach. I explained I had a curfew and had to be home as soon as the fireworks were over. After all, I was only 15!)

We arrived at the beach early and chose to chill out in the car until the fireworks started. I'm guessing we had munchie food with us, and probably some GI-Qs or Boone's Farm wine. For some reason, neither of us can remember any of those details. What we vaguely remember is that Maryjane was in the car with us. And most of the cars around us were also enjoying Maryjane's company with the windows rolled down on that foggy summer nite.

For everyone whose jaw just hit the floor, especially my sons who might want to stop reading now, let me reiterate that it was the 70s, the drinking age was 18, and (like Bill Clinton) I didn't inhale. And nobody had warned us yet about the evils of second-hand smoke. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

So I slept with TH on our first date.

NO....not in the biblical sense. I don't even remember if we kissed that night. (okay, we probably kissed)

But we did sleep together. Soundly. I don't remember who woke up first, but the parking lot was mostly empty.

Shit....did we really sleep through the fireworks? How sleepy were we?

"We fell asleep, our goose is cooked, our reputation is shot."

In 1957, the Everly Brothers recorded "Wake Up, Little Susie" and it was promptly banned in Boston for it's suggestive lyrics. However, turns out it was just about two kids who fell asleep at a boring drive-in movie.

But I had missed curfew.

"What are we going to tell your Mama, what are we going to tell your Pop?

What are we going to tell our friends when they go, Ooh La La?"

We still couldn't believe we'd slept through the fireworks. TH drove me home as quick as possible and on the way we decided that, since it wasn't very late, I would tell my parents that we actually drove to Marshfield to see their fireworks because it had been so foggy in Dorchester. (Thank goodness this was long before cell phones). TH pretty much figured that nite would be the last date my parents would ever allow.

When I walked in and told my sainted mother the white lie we'd concocted, instead of grounding me for the rest of the summer, she told me that it was a good decision we'd made because she heard on the news that the Boston fireworks had been cancelled due to fog.

Whew!

So as we drove past Tenean last nite, we once again had a good laugh. We didn't park there to view the fireworks, however, we knew they wouldn't be visible from that location. Instead we drove to the fish pier where we enjoyed front-row seating and actually stayed awake for the wonderful fireworks display.

Happy New Year!

Oh...one more thing. You may have noticed there is a new box on this blog called Angels Among Us. Although I pledge not to make any resolutions I can't keep, I have decided I want to recognize some of the selfless good samaritans we encounter every day, and going forward I will try to get their names (which I won't publish) and write them a letter of thanks if possible.

Yesterday morning, TH and I drove to Logan to see our son and his family off on their trip, and to drive their car and dog back to our home. When we arrived home, a state trooper phoned to let me know he had picked up my cell phone and would hold it for me. I hadn't even realized I'd dropped it. But despite the mad traffic he and his partner were trying to keep flowing, he had taken the time to phone the last person who'd called me (my daughter-in-law) and then get my home number. I quickly drove back over, and it was still a madhouse at terminal C departures, but Lieutenant MK couldn't have been more pleasant. A Dunkin Donuts gift card is in the mail to his barracks.

Had he not taken the time, yesterday would probably have been a crazy day of stress and anxiety trying to locate my phone, not to mention I wouldn't have been able to share with you the photographs of my fortune or the fireworks. Ever grateful.....he made my day!