Laughing in the Morning

…is better than tea.”

~ Alenka

Well, almost, unless you want to eat at the other bakery… and there was no milk for coffee (or was it no milk for guests?) until a full gallon jug got passed around long after the first cup.
I spent a wonderful couple of days in Boston a few weeks ago with quite the gregarious crowd. The notes for blogging are nearly incomprehensible, now – there’s a lesson about timing! Will the acuity in the moment of my sense of reality suffer overmuch? Corruption is welcome. ­čÖé I did have a serious attack of the lonelies after returning from the Colombian’s visit to Boston. At least I wasn’t chased by a Drunk Mexican (who was actually from Peru), although the fact that someone was chased got me a temporary quasi-date for the evening: “If I kiss you,” she said, “it doesn’t mean anything.” Oh :-/, well “Ok!” ­čÖé
The rain was abominable en route to vaguely ambiguous social events. I so much did not want to drive to the fun, preferring life should come to me! However, ’twas not to be, the promise of fun won, and the drive done soon enough. (I certainly did not accomplish as much as Zeynep, who solved the problem of the universe, reconstructed her dissertation, cleaned the kitchen and packed for the weekend in a few hours prior to departure. Eventually, we took a trip across the street. “I want to visit that galaxy,” a 6th grader informed Jake, who informed her that the Earth is, indeed, already in the Milky Way and inquired of her opinion. “I am not sure,” she intoned, solemnly looking around.
Different senses of reality pervaded dinner, dancing, bowling, and pool. I really want an actuarial table on the persistence of groups, some way to predict the strength of relationships over time and the possibilities of re-union, recurring configurations, a way to track not only stages of group development but the shape of groups over time… (Javier! Save us!)
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The Drunk Mexican returned periodically throughout the evening. Slowly the non-Spanish-speaking members of the group caught on to the fact that he was not operating in an official entertainment capacity for the establishment. Different languages = different senses of reality!
There was a rotation on the couch (prior to the photo frenzy involving several couches) and I texted a pal often through the night. “Are you winking?” I was teased. Alas, no, just offering presence. My favorite dance partner took me for a few turns of salsa conditionally – only if I granted him the criteria of getting “to be the man!” Oh alright, I can follow. ­čś«
Eventually the evening came to an end:

“the pool closed tables are now”

We returned to the shaking house for curried rice & peas, salmon steaks, bread and cheese. Debate ensued about Boston’s unique tectonics, or is it wind through sewage pipes introducing a wobble in the building like Willy Wonka’s house? Some folks weren’t sure if the house was really shaking, legs over the edge of the bed to stabilize a turbulent tummy via the (moving) floor.
At some point I was encouraged to “wink back.” Conversations the next morning (?) ensued about cat channeling, monkeys/national geographic/nature and failure/f-ck-ups. (I have no clue.) Then there’s this enigmatic phrase: “There’s some grains in there…..”
Finally, wisdom about the/a matrix, I mean, come on, you know it’s all made up anyway!

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