Monday, January 14, 2013


The six of us get a long, wooden table at Otto - much larger than our party size - and we sprawl around it, ordering three large pizzas to share and a bottle of white. The pizzas come and we divvy them up. The Zucchini, Summer Squash, and Spinach pizza is good but it doesn't win me over like I expected. I get back to basics and I decide, much to my surprise, that the Cheese Pizza is my favorite. Of the three we ordered, it's the only one with red sauce and it is damn good sauce. We talk and eat and the pizza gets cold quickly, but that's okay, because pizza is good cold too. And all the while, the lights of the Coolidge Corner Theatre shine brightly through the large arched windows and my heart gets an overwhelming full feeling. That feeling is called happiness.

M and I finally go to see the Mario Testino exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts. I say finally, because it has been months in the making. The very first part of the exhibit is a montage of TV clips - documenting Mario at work, Mario with celebrities, Mario's rise to fame. The montage informs my perspective on the entire exhibit. The show - large, colorful photographs of beautiful people and famous people, sometimes naked but always stunning - is as much about Mario and his access to these people as it is about the photographs. There are bright photographs of J.Lo in L.A.; there are fashion spreads of Kate Moss and Gisele looking oh so gorgeous. My favorites are the candid black-and-white close-ups of celebrities. They are America's sweethearts; they are our royalty. And, as a chaser, we finish out the afternoon in the much more subdued second part of the exhibit: British Royal Portraits. The portraits are utterly endearing. And they all remind us that Mario has a place among and access to the famous.

It is almost sixty degrees in the middle of January. I take off my hoodie, because it's too warm, and I slip my credit card down the front of my sports bra, because I'll be finishing my run at the grocery store. I head out in a tank top and yoga pants and I get funny looks. I give funny looks right back because it is sixty degrees. You don't need that wool pea coat and you certainly don't need that full-length parka. I'm running down Hanover Street when I see water out of the corner of my right eye. Boston Harbor. There is a strong gravitational pull between me and any body of water. Very strong. I go towards it immediately and run down the Harborwalk, taking a few minutes to take in the expanse of water. On my way back, I get lost, but I guess that's to be expected. All those streets look the same. I cross the Greenway and I have my very own Rocky moment charging up the steps of Government Center Plaza. You know which Rocky moment I'm talking about.


  1. Happy to be in one of your snapshots! Wish I'd been there for pizza and running too...

  2. ah, you extracted the most from a boston that presents a dour face these days, so sad that all the people who complain of SAD are plotting a trip to the Caribbean