Gotcha!

My parents don't know that I know that they read my blog. Or maybe they do.

It's cool. I never really posted anything I didn't want them to see. I only kept from forwarding it along to them because, per previous experience of when I write/do/make something, family friends or distant relatives I haven't spoken to in years tend to surface and tell me what a lovely poem/essay/story I wrote, and that my parents had sent it to them. It's weird. I guess I just wanted this to be a little hands-off. I don't always know how to respond to certain kinds of compliments and feedback. Sometimes I just don't want to.

(My dad's the one who slipped. He kept mentioning things from the blog that I definitely hadn't told them yet. He confirmed my hunch last night when I showed them the photo of the red car from Brooklyn and he said, "Have we seen this before?" and my mom deliberately shook her head at him. It's kind of funny, really.)

Just the other day, in fact, he passed along to me that someone he knows thinks I have a good voice.

Me: "Where did she hear it?"

Him: "Oh, I forwarded along something from the internet to her, some songs you recorded with a guy in Oberlin a couple years ago? She said (long string of compliments)."

Does anyone else get why this bothers me? No? Hm. I guess it's my complex. Do everyone's parents google their children? Probably.

Anyway, happy reading, mom and dad. I love you. I won't edit too much.

Umbrella-Lovely Labor Day

Thanks to the Hurricane Ernesto, who blew right up the skirt of the East Coast over the weekend, it was a smashing time for photographing my broken umbrellas. They look pretty much the same in Brooklyn as they do in Boston... with the exception of the Russian orthodox church.




(Apparently this bike below, a bright blue Schwinn, is the bike to have if you live in Williamsburg, which was just so hip I almost couldn't take it. But the bike... I want that bike. Especially since my Raleigh was stolen. Note the umbrella in the trash.)


More hipsters of Williamsburg.






Brooklyn showed us a good time. We stayed in Greenpoint with Sam, who was throwing a green-themed party in honor of her new neighborhood.


It's a Polish neighborhood, so to Matt it felt like a family reunion. He took us to lunch at Lomzynianka, boasting the best Polish food in the neighborhood, and I made him pose in front of Matt's Cafe.


Here's a little taste of the area we explored.






This is a band rehearsal we stumbled upon in a riverside park.





I thought this was hilarious: it sort of looks like the guy who's putting up the billboard is in the ad himself. I wish I could have stayed to see the finished product.



No parking, huh? Unless you drive this car.


And finally... to start off the weekend, I made dinner for Matt's birthday last Friday night. This may seem like a nice gesture, but if you know me you'll understand that it was a much larger display of affection. Cooking, yeah... I don't really do that.


But if I do, I'll make you mussels in basil cream sauce over linguine with bruschetta and serve you champagne in a strapless little black dress.


Happy 25th, Matteo.