coast to coast

That was the name of the local hardware store in the town where I grew up (for the first half). But that's not why you're reading my post.

Almost liek a pilgrimage, I returned to Boston about a week shy of when I'd gone a year ago. It had been my first campus trip, so this year I celebrated my anniversary of working for USAS at the Harvard campus giving workshops. It's a good time of year to visit - lots of brick and leaves, and the wind hasn't quite gotten bone-chilling yet. I tried in vain to go to a famous vegan restaurant near where our gracious host lived, but the timing didn't work out. We did go to a club with a candle-wick bowling alley where a truly flabbergasting performer, Leslie and the Ly's. At first, I had no idea what to think, and she could probably lose some of the karate-chops, but her ode to gem sweaters was truly amazing.

I also found a particular headstone in the famous Granary Burying Ground that had left an impression on me as a 13-year-old tourist. As I explained to my comrades on the trip, many times my family vacations included trips to the local cemeteries - it's a side effect of having somewhat goth parents. Later that day, I'd get on a plane and land that night in Los Angeles.

I was reunited after a year with my beloved sleeping bag, patiently awaiting my northward return, only to leave it behind in Los Angeles. Fortunately, my co-worker was notified that I'd left it behind in time to bring it back to me. Reunited, and it feels so good.

I got to hang out with Shana (see: friend blogs) at her place in Long Beach for a couple of hours, which was great becuase we had tons to catch up on. Other than cruising around LA in a ridiculous Buick rental car (they were out of compacts), I didn't get to see much outside of the UCLA campus (which is nice, don't get me wrong). I even missed seeing my aunt, which was a shame because I so rarely get to go to SoCal. I'm actually pretty fond of LA, and got to at least call my mom and get the story straight on where all she grew up down there. San Diego, mostly.

My returning flights left something to be desired, but it actually worked out better than planned. Plan A was that I'd fly back to Boston, sleep in the airport, and get on a flight to Baltimore. Yuk. So instead I got trapped at LAX having been directed by an airline-check-in-counter-person to miss my flight and rebook to DC directly for $100 - I was willing to do it, but apparently that was all fiction. Without car, a dead cell phone and no charger, I instead was stuck in an LAX terminal for six hours. There was an incredibly sweet Welsh guy on vacation who chatted with me about my iBook, then we wound up ranting about US's position in the global economy, arrogance, consumerism, and bad foreign policy. I love it when that happens! After he caught his flight, I made my way to a restaurant for a veggie burger (look, people, I was desperate) where I sat at the bar and got engaged in a conversation about police brutality, racism, the environmen, travel and government administration in suburban LA-sprawl with an awesome woman knocking back a couple of margeritas to ease a flight to Australia for vacation.

Now I'm in Philly again, I can't believe it was March when I was last here for work. Molly took three weeks off work to go down and help out in New Orleans, with my pal Catherine Jones at the clinic and with cleanup in general. What she's seeming is incredibly intense, and I hope she'll post it somewhere. In the meantime, I get to crash at her apartment.

Signing off...