Maine: Smells Like Trees

May 29, 2007

I thought up the title to this post while getting out of our rented champagne colored Toyota Corolla in the parking lot of a Friendly’s in Bedford, MA. It smelled like trees, and that was nice. We had just barely made it out of Boston and onto 95 and I was starving. We: me, D, and T-Fap. After making myself so full of tuna melt and waffle fries that I couldn’t even contemplate the peanut butter cup sundae I had been planning on ordering, we got back on the road and didn’t stop until we were in Maine, which I just knew would smell like trees even more than a Friendly’s parking lot in Bedford, MA. It did, especially because we got there in middle of a cool spring night and did a lot of happy schlepping between Bowdoin dorms meeting up w/ T and his gal and figuring out exactly how we were all going to spend the last few hours before his graduation together. The plan ended up to be, sit in one of the vacated rooms in the house that he was the RA of and make iceless Cape Codders for each other until we were all too tired to drink any more. They were briefly iced, but then we ran out of cubes in the ice tray and decided that the remants of ice in the bag smelled too weird to put in our drinks. Such is the way of college freezers a week after most of the students have moved out. With enough lime, they weren’t too bad iceless although I did kind of screw up and make my last one so strong I could barely finish it. Maybe that’s why I had such a bad headache the next morning and kind of felt like I was going to faint if I didn’t eat something greasy and fast. Fortunately for me, 1) Bowdoin has been rated to have some of the best cafeteria food in the country and 2) their cafeteria was still serving all you can eat hot buffet breakfasts for only 4.25 by the time I got there, looking a lot spiffier than I felt. Well, at least I hope I looked spiffier than I felt. Wait, one more revision: my mind felt spiffy but my tummy felt iffy, and I hope my skirt wasn’t too wrinkled. There we go. I felt so much better after my home fries and eggs and coffee that I had enough spunk to join T-Fap in a movement to boycott the folding chairs set up in the middle of blazing sun and instead find a nice granite bench in the shade, which had the added benefit of being far enough away from any preppy parents to spend most of the ceremony making sarcastic comments about assuredly overpriced sundresses and purebred dogs. Could I ever truly live on the east coast? Sometimes I’m not sure. If I did, I would definitely be the kind of person who lived in Maine or Vermont rather than Massachusetts, is my conclusion. Right when T was about to walk, we relocated to the little tarmac they had set up for the paparazzi, I mean, parents and gave a great cheer as he accepted his diploma, almost doing so in his aviator sunglasses but at the last minute swapping them out for the Prada regular glasses that Frida helped him pick out. Almost immediately after that, while a few more overly long-winded speakers held the graduates hostage, we met up with some more recent converts to our sit in the shade movement (the rest of D’s family, basically) and beat an early retreat to the catered lunch. Sorry Kenyoners, this lunch made our post-graduation box-lunches look pretty craptapulous. We stuck around for hugs and photos and then whoops, had to get our rental car back to Boston and thereby missed out on the ever-joyous experience of finishing off a dorm room pack up.

Thus ended the graduation portion of our weekend. The rest of was gloriously occupied with more eating, much more drinking, and lots of Boston related activities. I finally got to see the fabled apartment and ride the T. I got to pick up where I left off with a passel of Kenyon friends. I got to savor the leafy treeness of a city not nearly as overwhelming as I remembered it being (visiting KAY, driving for two hours around the same four blocks trying to find her apartment on a little elbow of a road called The Fenway). Public transportation, Anna’s Taqueria, Harvahd, The Milky Way, and a last minute visit from Big Hollywood Director all mine to enjoy. The thought of relocating myself to be a part of it all on a more permanent basis teasing deliciously on every step up from the T stop, emerging–could I?–into the life of a city.

Knowing me, you can probably tell where this is going. That all felt great, and now I feel bad. Not so bad. This bad:

That’s a live version of “Black Cab” by Jens Lekman that I put on a mix for T-Fap that we played on our way back from Maine. When it first came on, I had completely forgotten that I put it on the mix, but then it became my favorite song of them all. It’s been going through my head all morning.

Anyway, I’m a bit mopey. Maybe it’s coming back to my real life, which I think is now under the working title “The Unemployed, The Pregnant, and The Distressingly Uncertain.” I have a new version of that old feeling that yeah, I could pick up and move and change my life, but it might not make a difference if the place that I’m truly uncomfortable right now is inside my head. Maybe it’s realizing that life with your good friends in many ways resembles life with your family, and that is good and bad and unescapable. Maybe it’s just my birth control, since I kind of screwed up the month to month turnover this most recent time. Maybe it’s nothing that a moody blog post can’t fix. (Hello–is there anything a moody blog post can’t fix? Haven’t found it yet.) Could be anemia. For that reason I made D make me a steak last night for dinner once we got home back to Boca, which shares the first two letters of its name with the name of the city that I just got back from, and I can’t really decided if that’s not enough or too much.


7 Responses to “Maine: Smells Like Trees”

  1. LCB Says:

    OKay, this is going to be one of those comments with only the most tangential (which I originally typed as “tangenital” Hee.) relation to the post itself.

    You know what else smells like trees? Caddy. Or did Caddy smell like rain? I’m gonna have to re-read the Sound and the Fury. Or at least that section. Also, apologies to anyone who’s not a Faulkner fan and, as such, has no idea what I’m raving about.

    And, in reference to an earlier post, I think Couches Full of Pee may be the name of my new pop-punk band.

  2. Liz Says:

    Yes, Caddy did smell like trees. I just double checked. We could start a list…

    As for your new pop-punk band, the cats ensured that another version of it was waiting for us when we got home yesterday. Time for kitty Prozac?

  3. AH Says:

    My parent’s cats are on kitty Prozac. To be honest, it creeps me out. It’s in this thing you plug into the electrical outlet, like an air-freshener, except, instead of making your air smell good, it’s sending chemicals into the air that supposedly only affect your acts. I know the science people know better than me, but I’m distrustful of the whole scenario. But far be it from me to stand between my parent’s cats and their happiness. I mean, hello, they’re cats, if you can’t be happy as a cat, who else has a chance?

  4. AH Says:

    Hmm, only affect your CATS people, not your acts. Freudian slip? I’m embarrassed. I need to start proofreading.

  5. Liz Says:

    Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be hitting up the kitty Prozac for real any time soon, esp. in air freshener form–in general they seem happy, I’m just mystified and frustrated on the recent spate of couch peeing. D hypothesizes that it is a war they are having between themselves over their favorite sitting places, but then why does it only happen when we are gone? I guess the next line of defense is animal repellent for the furniture, but I’d hate if they never cuddled up to watch a movie with me again… hmmm.

  6. lcb172 Says:

    Oh, I kind of have to chime in here and say my mom might be getting a new kitty. Probably not, but last night we had dinner at house of some extended family, who just happened to have a litter of 4 nine-week old kittens. And she seemed to be actually considering it. Eee! It’ll be a nice change from the very old, very neurotic ones we have now.

  7. LCB Says:

    Crap, I forgot I was logged into my wordpress account and now there’s that stupid avatar.

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