north/south east cost dialogics: P: Belated St. Paddy's Day, Bday, etc.

So, I know I was supposed to post more commentary on our Miami trip, but (A) Annie covered pretty much everything and (B) putting up those photos and captions were kind of exhausting! Suffice it to say, Annie was the perfect host, and I missed her mucho, so it was fabulous to catch up.

Anyway, last week was rough because I arrived from Miami (nearly 80 degree weather) to 30 degree weather. And I had to rush off to class shortly after I landed. Then it was St. Paddy's Day, and my ethnically Irish roommate Sheila, her hs friend/my new running friend Amy and I had to celebrate with homemade Irish soda bread (HOLLA!) and then we went to O -Leary's down the block for some live old man Irish band music.

My roommate Sheila (left) and our friend Amy practice their step dancing routine

And--in another small world that is Boston coincidence--I saw this kid who was on the elliptical machine next to my treadmill at the gym that afternoon. So--in the spirit of 'craic,' that friendly Irish gift of gab, I mentioned the connection. To which this dude (his name was Peter) said, "what's an elliptical?" I said, you know, at the BU gym. "What's BU?" and then I just said happy St. Paddy's Day and he said, "What's St. Paddy's Day? I just arrived in Boston a few hours ago." I felt slightly mortified. Anyway, turns out he's here for a journalism conference, and somehow we end up talking about Jane Eyre, and he mentions "Wide Sar gasso Sea," and I'm like, you should talk to my roommate! (who lent me her copy.) So he joins our table, and they're talking, and then he asks what cool stuff there is to do in Boston, and we're all giving him suggestions. Then eventually he excuses himself. My roommate told me when she went up to the bathroom, he said to her, "Oh, you still exist." Which had faint echoes to the last guy I made her talk to in a bar, who insulted our friend Amy re her height and said to Sheila, "You look like you don't eat red meat." As we're ready to leave, he circles back to our table and says, "sorry I didn't get to talk to you guys more." Thanks, buddy. You just cost yourself an invite to my birthday party. (Not that my party is some kind of huge event, but still.)

Anyway, Thurs evening rolls around, and Sheila--so sweet--has bought flowers, a framed poster for me, AND she cooks a delicious chicken -lemon butter sauce-asparagus-bowtie noodles dinner! Amy comes over with not one, but TWO bottles of vino--one of each--and we have chocolate cake. It was the sweetest birthday dinner ever. Thank you, girls!

From there, we headed to Audu..bon, my favorite bar, although my favorite Korean bartender buddy took the night off that night. As is usually the case with these things, I get very antsy that no one will show up, and when the first couple of people arrive, I awkwardly introduce them to each other by mentioning tangentially related things they have in common: same color sweater, both being from states starting with the letter "M," or whatever other details that spring readily to my mind. ALSO: Birthday outfit was a Forever 21 black top that Annie helped me pick out in Miami! I was going to wear black leggings along with it, but when I did a fashion show for Amy and Sheila, they both confirmed that jeans would read as more casual.

People in attendance: my friend Hahn (who I actually met through Kevin, at a Michigan alumni game viewing party), my friend Paul (perfect square; Carroll Gardens and Columbia UP friend), MFA fiction writers, poets, playwrights, a kid I played frisbee with in college who invited me to his Commonwealth of Britain party last semester...and then all at once my running club friends descended upon the scene. When my underaged cousin Jeannie arrived, she said, "Dude, it's a sausage fest." I mean, I didn't mean for it to be so many dudes--I invited some, and they all showed up with their friends, and so on and so forth. And then when I surveyed the room, I was like, wait, most of my friends in Boston ARE guys, and I was like, sheesh, can we please bus up all of the single ladies in NY to Boston instead? Granted, they are not all of the six-foot, chiseled cheekbone, socially graceful quality (well, a couple are), but still...still! It made me really mad that in NY, there are so many beautiful, attractive women, and there just aren't enough men to go around. At least, that's what it feels like.

Anyway, at some point, the Ipswich ale pints kept flowing, and then I was buying drinks for my little cousin and her friend, and then Sheila had to steady me home. Poor girl.

Running clubbers. A bunch of them do a 9mile run Thurs nights, and Audubon just happened to be on their route.

Lindsey in the PhD program to the left, Sheila to the right.

my Korean language partner made it out, although I felt bad bc he's still new to navigating social situations in America.

Mo' runners. Andy, to my left, is co-coordinator of our running club. Also, this shirt at this angle kinda makes me look pregnant.

Paul, Hahn, playwright Chris, phD Sheila (my roomie) and poet Heather--more MFA people in the back of the photo.

Some more runners. Dave, in the middle, started our running club. He might end up in NYC next year for his PhD program, so I--in my birthday-tipsy state--told him I'd pimp him out to my friends. Any takers?