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enthusiastickWeekdays in Connecticut and weekends in Boston. This September is quickly turning into the summer after my freshman year sort of geographically reversed. I was miserable then, and I'm sure eventually this arrangement will have the same effect.
This weekend I was graciously invited to a birthday party being held in honor of my sister Kate (and a half dozen other people with recent or upcoming birthdays, roughly half of whom I actually knew.) Kate came home to Connecticut with her (relatively) new husband Wilson Friday night and we had family dinner complete with birthday cake.
My mother keeps in the china cabinet an old and fairly rickety birthday platter which contains a wind-up music box in the base. When you spin the top a few times and then flip a little switch the cake slowly revolves and the platter plays a quietly metallic version of the birthday song. Its only brought out for actual birthdays, so at most six times a year and generally less often since my elder sisters began college. This item is the single most coveted thing in the entire household - every single Lowe family child has admitted that the thing "sounds like home," and we joke that we would trade our share in the inheritance (such as it is or rather will be) to be the one who gets the birthday cake platter. I'm not actually sure I'm entirely joking, I want the damn thing pretty badly (or I will once its up for grabs.)
Anyway. After watching the Red Sox make a thrilling ninth inning comeback Friday night I retired to bed and got a ride into the city the next day. During said ride we listened to the Sox lose the second of their three game series with the Yankees horrendously, a performance that would be repeated on Sunday. Goddamn curse. I got up to Boston and finally got a look at sister Sarah's palatial apartment (at least that's what Wilson calls it, because they have a lot of knick-knacks.) I hung around with Sarah and Kate and Sarah's roommate Ellison for a while and then was dropped off at Jon S's apartment.
Jon and I hung out and ordered pizza while he caught me up on the first week of work with the Yankee group. He's in a trainee group of six kids each of which has been assigned to a specific area of expertise. Jon was hoping to be assigned to media & entertainment but seemed content with his placement in the field of network security. I really should put him in touch with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pax_malificus, as the two of them now have an interest in that field in common. Jon has learned more about it in the past week than I ever knew to begin with. Essentially his job sounds like its going very well and he is enjoying it, even if it does keep him too busy to do much aside from eating and sleeping during the week.
The party was very good. There was much drinking and many enthusiastic games of flip cup. I was glad I elected to bring a bottle of malibu and a bottle of coke - I had my loathing of beer reinforced by the night's events and was able to entice Jon to get drunker than he might have otherwise with the lure of sweet coconut-flavored coca cola. I was introduced to Melissa's cat Harry, whom Wilson calls Satan due to his notorious ill-temper. I sat next to him studiously ignoring him for about ten minutes, after which he and I became fast friends. Melissa was incredulous to discover that he let me pet his tummy on Sunday. What can I say? Initially not paying attention to cats is the only way into their heart of hearts.
Crashed at Jon S's apartment, met up with my sister and Wilson on Sunday and caught a ride home just in time to drive my little sister to her hockey clinic and then flopped. Now the wholly uninteresting part of my life resumes. The job search remains utterly devoid of life, and so I am looking into getting a headhunter. I am also going to New York on Wednesday to talk with a woman at Bliss PR, who handles the public relations for Towers-Perrin. She doesn't have a job for me, but she might prove a useful connection.
In unrelated news it seems Will (aka William Ludwell Baldwin V, one of few friends of mine who actually has a number after his name) is stateside once more having returned from Japan. He even brought a mail-order bride with him (or possibly just a girlfriend.) Hopefully I'll get to hang out with him a bit this week, thus lightening the utter monotony that is failing to find a job.
This weekend I was graciously invited to a birthday party being held in honor of my sister Kate (and a half dozen other people with recent or upcoming birthdays, roughly half of whom I actually knew.) Kate came home to Connecticut with her (relatively) new husband Wilson Friday night and we had family dinner complete with birthday cake.
My mother keeps in the china cabinet an old and fairly rickety birthday platter which contains a wind-up music box in the base. When you spin the top a few times and then flip a little switch the cake slowly revolves and the platter plays a quietly metallic version of the birthday song. Its only brought out for actual birthdays, so at most six times a year and generally less often since my elder sisters began college. This item is the single most coveted thing in the entire household - every single Lowe family child has admitted that the thing "sounds like home," and we joke that we would trade our share in the inheritance (such as it is or rather will be) to be the one who gets the birthday cake platter. I'm not actually sure I'm entirely joking, I want the damn thing pretty badly (or I will once its up for grabs.)
Anyway. After watching the Red Sox make a thrilling ninth inning comeback Friday night I retired to bed and got a ride into the city the next day. During said ride we listened to the Sox lose the second of their three game series with the Yankees horrendously, a performance that would be repeated on Sunday. Goddamn curse. I got up to Boston and finally got a look at sister Sarah's palatial apartment (at least that's what Wilson calls it, because they have a lot of knick-knacks.) I hung around with Sarah and Kate and Sarah's roommate Ellison for a while and then was dropped off at Jon S's apartment.
Jon and I hung out and ordered pizza while he caught me up on the first week of work with the Yankee group. He's in a trainee group of six kids each of which has been assigned to a specific area of expertise. Jon was hoping to be assigned to media & entertainment but seemed content with his placement in the field of network security. I really should put him in touch with
pax_malificus, as the two of them now have an interest in that field in common. Jon has learned more about it in the past week than I ever knew to begin with. Essentially his job sounds like its going very well and he is enjoying it, even if it does keep him too busy to do much aside from eating and sleeping during the week.The party was very good. There was much drinking and many enthusiastic games of flip cup. I was glad I elected to bring a bottle of malibu and a bottle of coke - I had my loathing of beer reinforced by the night's events and was able to entice Jon to get drunker than he might have otherwise with the lure of sweet coconut-flavored coca cola. I was introduced to Melissa's cat Harry, whom Wilson calls Satan due to his notorious ill-temper. I sat next to him studiously ignoring him for about ten minutes, after which he and I became fast friends. Melissa was incredulous to discover that he let me pet his tummy on Sunday. What can I say? Initially not paying attention to cats is the only way into their heart of hearts.
Crashed at Jon S's apartment, met up with my sister and Wilson on Sunday and caught a ride home just in time to drive my little sister to her hockey clinic and then flopped. Now the wholly uninteresting part of my life resumes. The job search remains utterly devoid of life, and so I am looking into getting a headhunter. I am also going to New York on Wednesday to talk with a woman at Bliss PR, who handles the public relations for Towers-Perrin. She doesn't have a job for me, but she might prove a useful connection.
In unrelated news it seems Will (aka William Ludwell Baldwin V, one of few friends of mine who actually has a number after his name) is stateside once more having returned from Japan. He even brought a mail-order bride with him (or possibly just a girlfriend.) Hopefully I'll get to hang out with him a bit this week, thus lightening the utter monotony that is failing to find a job.
