Forgotten Years

          I went to the North End to meet Ryan C and his coworker Connor for lunch. We dropped in early at a no-frills Italian place called Galleria Umberto (the line was already lengthy, and was soon trailing far behind us.) With a slightly cafeteria-like setting, customers are only served with personal portions like squares of pizza, arancini, panzarotti, and mini calzones. I opted for the last of these and was quite pleased with my calzone. This place is old school -- they only close once the pizza runs out. A huge table of tourists sat nearby while a guide regaled them with local lore, and I was reminded of why tour groups suck. After we had eaten our fill, the other guys headed back to work and I trekked over to Heath Street to meet with Jules and Emily.
          The three of us walked up to the ASPCA, where Jules began the lengthy approval process for adopting a cat. She chose a low-key, rather overweight senior cat (at a discount too!) named Muscles, to be rechristened Nancy Reagan. While all of the paperwork was taken care of, Emily and I wandered around and visited all sorts of animals, yet again rekindling my desire for a pet. I went to most of the dogs and whispered to them, trying to calm them down if they were agitated. My favorite was a drooling, lethargic pit bull named Hoagie, who seemed very mild-mannered. The bunnies and guinea pigs were hyper-cute as well; cats were about 50-50 on likability, with some clearly having no time for socializing. When Nancy Reagan was safely in hand, we walked back to her place with Jules carrying the heavy-ass cat and me toting the giant bag of food. Rachelle and Chelsea came to meet Nancy, too, though she almost immediately took shelter under Jules's bed.

(This is Kovu, not Nancy.)

           On the bus to Copley, Emily and I split up. There was a lot of uncertainty in my mind about the coming days, and since we wouldn't be able to see each other in that time, I figured the moment was right. Feeling very sober, I met John at Hynes and walked back to the Fenway. We smoked and watched The Wire, discussing the possibility of a run at local office. When he left, I got through more of The Wire, more weed, and more decoration. A nighttime run was, as usual, the perfect nightcap.
          Quote of the day:
"It's like a gourmet tater tot." - Ryan C