March-A Baker’s Dozen

A Baker's Dozen...And Memories to Go. I love those moments when you can re-live past memories through hearing an old song, finding a nostalgic picture, or walking by a complete stranger who is wearing the perfume or cologne that is associated with a loved one. This morning, I went to breakfast at "The Towne Diner" in Watertown, MA, one of the oldest and most popular diners in the Boston metro area. As I stood in the entryway watching the families waiting, ol' timers up at the bar stools, waitresses scurrying about, I felt an odd sense of familiarity despite never having been in the diner previously. And then, I saw them: sitting on the counter, stacked in a plastic bin: the NY Style Bagels. And so the many memories of childhood days...ham and cheese omelets...nights out "at the diner" in adolescence...crushes abound...and yes, the laughs and "what the hell happened last nights" at "The Ridge" during our IHA days...came flooding back to me, merging my two worlds-old and new. Breakfast at The Towne Diner was an awesome experience. It will never be quite as 'glitzy' as the Oakland Diner, nor will those big, chewy bagels-the "real" kind-look at home in MA, when best prepared and sold as a baker's dozen in the Garden State. But that veggie omelet and coffee, the great music and conversation that ensued, well, they may present a force with which to contend....L.

A Baker's Dozen - The number 13 has many traditional and cultural meanings, some sacred and some horrifying. Thus, I write today's blog about an incident that happened to me a few weeks ago - one that is quite disturbing yet was of benefit to me. Here it goes: I live in NYC, which means we have alternate side parking rules. It was winter break at school so I was home a lot. On Wednesday of that week, I parked the car at the end of my street on the cross street- in a spot that has a deep pot hole (the spot on left side of picture), after picking up a friend for dinner. Then, on Thursday, I had planned to visit my nieces in NJ, but decided that I felt too wiped out to go. Since I had parked the car on a Tuesday/Friday street cleaning day, I left the car and decided I'd move it on Friday morning. After getting up to move the car on Friday morning, I saw a note from Marko stating "the car is on a Monday/Thursday side." When he got home, I thanked him for moving the car. He looked at me perplexedly...He said that when he had gotten home from work on Thursday, the car was already moved from one corner on the cross street to other side of the same corner on our street (the spot in the right side of the picture) - a Monday/Thursday street cleaning day. He thought I had moved it and forgot to tell him. I thought he had moved it and forgot to tell me. We both have no recollection moving the car - BUT - somehow it was moved so that we did not get a street cleaning ticket. So, was it ways of the number 13?? or do I have early onset alzheimers? I clearly hope its the former.

Sincerely, A.

Cassie: I already took picture of donuts at least 13 of them so I couldn't that again for this post. Today was the St Patty's day parade and this is the only parade I attend. The Raleigh weather is always perfect for watching a parade and drinking a few beers with friends. I saw 13 bag pipers, 13 green tshirts, 13 Irish wolf hounds, 13 shriners (those guys are seriously weird), 13 different bands, 13 little Irish girl dancers and had 13 beers...well maybe not that many :)