Unfortunately for my readers, I did not bring a means to upload my stream of photos – neither computer nor card reader. So, if you are reading this, you will just have to be patient and wait to see them until I get back home next week. I promise to then upload and edit the whole lot to post in one final Boston entry for any viewing pleasure. But for now… a picture I took offline of a cute furniture store a block up from where I’m staying that I’m going to visit today. On to writing…
Yesterday morning I woke at 7:30 to the warm and dry African air… in Streamwood, IL. Today I awoke to the somewhat cooler, dry air and traffic/construction commotion of the Dominican Republic… in Boston. It seems I am confused. So, for the sake of my sanity and well-being I’m going to put myself, along with you, over a review of the simple facts of my learning/travels so far.
Lesson one: Chicagoland looked super ugly from my airplane window. All I could see were huge niches of neighborhoods that had row upon row of perfectly spaced houses that looked exactly the same; OR the huge, flat tops of what I can only guess to be warehouse buildings like Walmart or Target; OR the bumper to bumper traffic on the entire mass of roadways. As I looked out my window at the monstrosity below I came to an instant conclusion that if/when Josh and I buy a house, we will not be buying it in a mess of commotion like that. No, we will search for our house outside the suburban radius of Chicagoland in hopes of a rural community where the natural beauty is not just the tree in the front yard.
Lesson two: Nick says “Love is what makes art; therefore everything in life can and will be art if you love it (whether that be painting, chemistry, or relationships.” Ok so that’s not exactly a quote but I reiterated the gist of the conversation with one sentence in the best way I could. But now I am thinking I ought to put that in practice. Sure, I am an artist by trade and practice, and I incorporate that field into every area of my life, it seems, except for in relationships. So what does it mean to make one’s relationships an art? Well I think I am going to give it a try.
Lesson three: Boston people really are reserved. Do not say hello or wave to everyone, let alone anyone, when you go for a run or a walk… basically whenever you encounter people. And I have yet to hear the legitimate Boston accent because there are so many students and different ethnic people here it seems the blue collar, heavy Boston accents are harder to come by than I thought.
Lesson four: I ran on the path that the Minute Men took back in the day. Pretty neat.
One more note for the day: Dear husband, you are the love of my life and my best friend in the whole wide world, I love you and miss you dearly. This is one of those moments I would love to shout it from the top of a building or something, but I think I would die of dirty looks so I’ll settle for this next best thing, my blog.