I love this building on Saratoga Street. The weather worn wood in the front adds dramatic character. It's rundown, but in a romantic Restoration Hardware kind of way. Although, I do kind of doubt they have $3k sofas inside if that plastic-bag-patched window pane is any indication. But you never know. I have romanticized anyway.
A local East Boston bar, Kelly Square Pub should not be mistaken for being Irish. It isn't. I've been assured that. Twice. It's Kelly's Square.....Pub. Only the square is Irish. Not the bar.
The food is fairly generic, basic American comfort food leaning on the Italian side. They have beers on tap, even Blue Moon if you'd believe it, but rarely a tasty seasonal. The wine is of the Berringer variety and I really don't think people order it very often. It's a local pub. Everyone seems to have been born and raised in Eastie, all know each other, and are generally pretty friendly. They have some flatscreens behind the bar, which is the ideal place to sit. There's usually a waitress, but I've always been served by the bartender regardless of where I sat. Its stumbling distance home, which is the real lure. I've been to better and worse in the neighborhood. It's here. I feel very neutral about the place.
After getting home, you can still see the swelling in the top of my left foot. Where the tendons are apparent in my right, there is nothing but inflammation in my left. It shines with ibuprofin topically applied. While it exists in this form in Europe, I'm still rather uncertain how effective it is. Or rather, it feels effective, but it could be a placebo effect, or some combination of the fact I've stopped walking by the time I apply it. Either way, this problem doesn't seem to be going away.
I've returned to the gym with a vengeance. My favorite move being the curl-to-press with dumb bells.
My tart came together beautifully for Pi Day, in spite of some initial troubles with the pastry cream. In the end it was both delicious and enjoyed by all. I love tarts.
Not much to say here. I loved the way the sunlight reflected off my legs when I woke up in the morning. There is no such thing as sleeping it at my house when the sun shines so bright directly in my window each morning.
In honor of Pi Day, I spent Sunday slaving away to whisk up some pastry cream. These are the separated yolks.
Another morning at the laundromat. It's become a comfortable routine. I get to talk with my mom on the phone outside, or sit catching up on The Economist or a book. In this case I was reading The Sharper Your Knife, The Less You Cry. It's a book about a women who loses her job, takes her savings and moves to Paris to attend Le Cordon Bleu, and her experience there.
Waiting for the bus. I went to Somerville in order to pick up my bib for the upcoming Ras na hEirrean 5k on Sunday. Getting out there is quite a task these days. I'd almost forgotten how unreliable the buses could be, given my near subway-only existence. The trip to Winter Hill takes three trains and a bus, or two trains and a bus. All of this to get a bib for a race that I wasn't going to be able to run due to my foot problems. But I paid the expensive registration fee, so I was definitely going to at least get the t-shirt that I was probably never going to wear anyway!
This whole thing involved a lot of walking, but after picking up the bib, I went to Cambridge. I was finally able to get the sponge holder that was supposed to have been in stock since last June. Then I returned to Boston to catch the final closing sale at the downtown Borders Books. Overall great day, outside of the fact my foot swelled up like crazy from all the walking and traveling.
