Ah, summer
I'm probably going to be a little pink all over when I get up tomorrow morning, but that's an acceptable price to pay for being able to spend the weekend lying around in just a couple square feet of clothing and not worry about any adverse health effects other than that sunburn. Well, and skin cancer, but that's more a long-term thing.

Of course, just how many square feet and when is apparently important. I spent yesterday hanging out with Chet, one of his classmates, Marcel, and Marcel's girlfriend Chantalle. The term ended last month, but their rent was paid through yesterday, so they hung around before flying back to France. We were going to try and get tickets for the game, since Marcel has become a Sox fan during his undergraduate years and first year of grad school, and while going home to Nice for the summer is rather (pardon the pun) nice, there isn't much very good baseball to be seen, and forget NESN.

Marcel is, by the way, a hoot and a half. Chantalle's a lucky girl.

So, we took advantage of the warm the warm weather and made our way down to the banks of the river, got out our books, took off our shirts and shoes (Chantalle and I were wearing bikini tops for this eventuality), and had a good read. After an hour, Marcel finished his and got out a ball and glove and starts tossing it up and down. I put my book down, and join him tossing it back and forth. It's a little tough at first, since I didn't bring a glove, and Chet's is too large for me. I can't really get a grip on the ball at first; it keeps falling out and the glove keeps falling out. I wind up just catching it two-handed after a while.

Anyway, a guy walks over and asks if I wouldn't mind putting my shirt on, since he and his kids are just over there. I look around, and I'm not exactly the only girl in a two-piece swimsuit (and I've got shorts on at that). I'm about to point this out when Chet comes over with my shirt. I sort of grump that he's not complaining to the college girls sunning themselves. Whatever.

The guy walks away, and Marcel tsk tsks Chet, saying that if I were his girlfriend, that would have gone differently. How so? "Ma cherie, I would have convinced him to allow you to go topless." Gee... Thanks.

Anyway, we go out to eat, and I go home, since Marcel and Chantalle are going to be sleeping on Chet's couch before they head to the airport in the morning and the place is crowded enough as is. Well, I say, don't sleep too soundly - you'll got a lot of time to sleep on the plane, and, hey, sometimes weird stuff happens the night before a big flight. He asks what, but Chet interrupts to say it's not a very interesting story. Maybe later, I say.

Anyway, today I spend hanging with Maggie. Been a while, but Marcel and Chantalle weren't the only ones catching a plane last night; Chet was flying to San Francisco to spend a couple weeks with his family. I'd like to meet the Kitamuras, but I don't know if Chet's ready for that. He's not going to ask me to lie about who I am and have been, but he's not ready to explain it to his folks.

So, Maggie and I hang out, heading out to Arlington to watch movies at the second-run house where they have ice cream. Real ice cream with scoops and stuff. The plan's to do that, poke through Newbury Comics for stuff - the fourth issue of Trigger (the one I don't have), the two Traveling Wilburys CDs (why didn't someone exploit George Harrison's death and reissue those? Why?), etc. I wound up with stuff out of the 25-cent comic boxes and the Fever Pitch soundtrack.

It was a nice day, again, so we opted to walk home. A little warm for that, so we were glad we were wearing our workout gear underneath. Maggie joked that she's surprised I didn't have something skimpier underneath, and I told her about the previous day. She laughed, said she thought the same thing the first time we bumped into each other here, although for different reasons.

"So," she changed the subject, "how long's Chet out of town?" I say a couple weeks. She asks why I didn't go with, and I shrug it off at first, saying I didn't have time to put in for vacation when he told me.

One thing she does point out, though, is that I haven't had a real vacation in the past two years, that being unemployed doesn't count, nor does taking time off to sit by people in the hospital. I admitted that wasn't really the reason, but she said, fine, you don't want to meet Chet's family, or they're not ready, but you need some time off.

-Martina
- posted 7:48 PM - - (archive use only)