2003-07-13 - 2:12 a.m.

I bought my Ma a gift certificate to the Harvest restaurant last Christmas--she�s spent her entire life in Boston and had never been to Harvard Square.

I took Friday off to go there with her, but the plan was to go on a nice summer day, and thanks to the internet, I knew that Friday would not be a nice summer day (by standards other than my own).

But Friday was excellent for me--Thursday had been fine at work, so I didn't have that hanging over my head for the weekend.

Thursday night was kinda weird--the Roommate and I ran into someone we hadn�t expected to see, and had to switch to plan B. in a hurry. So we ate some dogs and then played some pool at Big City in what was the non-smoking section, and it was fun. From there to Harvard, where we got a drink and then waited forever for the 86 to Union and then some guitar.

Friday I had taken off from work already, but I had to cancel those plans. Yes, I realize I�m not telling this story very well, but I don�t care. Stop reading if you�re a quality junkie.

So Friday was so good--I woke up to sixty-degree haze steeping through my huge window, and I did some chores and then wrote all afternoon. It felt great. I never get to watch the Sox anymore �cause I gave up cable and Fox stopped broadcasting games--now it�s just on Fridays and every now and then on the weekends. So I was looking forward to that when I walked to Davis to meet the Roommate at Diesel, and I got one of those awesome outside metopes where both people are still in transit to the prescribed meeting place. The poor Roommate was having a bad day, and after trying and failing to eat a shitty fish thingie with me at Mikes (my smoked mozzarella raviolis, I hate to admit, were very good), she, still hungry, went to McDonald�s to get a fish sandwich there, and told me to catch the bus home it if came. It came, and I waved good-bye to her as she exited the McDonald�s. I felt so bad, but I made the right choice.

I mean, what do you do when you�re feeling good and the person you love is feeling shitty? It sucks--there�s nothing you can do except combine being there and giving space.

After that, I watched the Sox win a ballgame, while I swept and then washed the hallway and living room floors. And I loved doing it--working hard for me. I also washed a ton of dishes before I went to bed, and got to walk up and down the hallway in clean socks that got cleaner and cleaner--nothing�s better than washing the floor in bare feet or socks.

Got up pretty early today and got ready for my day with my Ma. I was prepared for hard hitting questions of concern, but it turned out to be unnecessary--my Dad had invited himself out. Which was great--I was really excited about showing both of �em a good time.

I showed up at St. Mary�s (where I had gone to grade school) early, just in case, and waited around.

We caught the 66 from there. Unfortunately, our bus was very crowded, and the sight-seeing was awkward �till we got to Western Ave, but I did get to point out �GBH, the Stadium, and (as my Dad kidded) boats and wata, boats and wata, Ma. Take a picht-a.

We got off in the station as opposed to Eliot & JFK so I could show �em a transportation hub. They joked about feeling like tourists.

From there, the tour. Ma had already gotten the Harvard buying out Lower Allston and not having to pay taxes and driving poor people outta the neighborhood story on the bus. Outta the station, she got the story of how Harvard was a once breeding ground for good music, what the pit was (and still is?), and I showed her Harvard Yard (where you can�t pahk ya cah, by the way). It was nothing but oohs and aahs, and from there to the water thingie and from there down Church to the Harvest restaurant.

I met up with the Roommate later, and spent a collective total of perhaps an hour, talking about the turkey cobb salad I ordered and ate there. I�d like to talk about it some more, but I�m afraid that if I do, it won�t have actually happened. So I won�t.

After the cookies (yes, we had cookies and fruit--my dad, who works in food distribution, made it a point to finish the plate, due to its cost), so after the cookies I slowly guided them to... well. One of the reasons why my Ma was so excited about visiting Harvard Square was because she read so many articles in the Globe lamenting the decline of Harvard Square (R.I.P Kenmore, by the way). She was actually very topical on the issue, mentioning the Abercrombie and so on. She wanted to go to one of those unique shops, so she hit some yuppie store (Oh! It�s just like CVS!). Which is fine. I love my Ma so much. She bought some hand soap (for the Winta) while my Dad and I did our best to stay outta the way.

From there, I showed my folks the street-performer watchin� pad outside of Bertucci�s, and from there on to Cardullo�s. My Ma was shocked--SHOCKED, to find that someone made an olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette mix. She bought a bottle for her sister for Christmas--and made it a point to, if I did buy a bottle as a gift, to buy the oil and balsamic vinaigrette.

At which point I felt like a rock star. Waiting outside with my Dad, and he decided to walk into the kitsch store nextdoor. I decided to not put the effort into explaining how the concept of irony has somehow made it to retail (which, by the way, I�m all for), and as we crossed the next intersection, he said this is just like P-town! And see why I don�t drive around here.

I didn�t wanna walk either parent too much. Oona�s was a possibility, the store being one of those fewthings about Harvard Square that aren�t there anymore which are actually still there. But that was too far away for a store they had no interest in seeing, so I took �em to the Garage--you�re not going to wanna go to any of the stores inside, but I wanna show you this building.

I waited �till we had gotten close to the escalator, and then made the grand announcement--This building? USED TO BE A GARAGE!. That won me some oooohs. See that store? That�s for the hippies. See this store? That�s for the hippies. See this store? That�s for the wannabe hipsters. And that�s Newbury Comics. See this store? That�s for people who like Japan. That place is for tattoos. That place is for folks who love the band �The Grateful Dead.� And that place is for losers who like science fiction.

After that, my Dad imagining how folks got their cars outta the garage in days of yore, I brought �em to that grassy area by where Other Music used to be, and I set �em down for a bit while I got a Peet�s iced latte. Yeah, I suck. But there was a good day rockin� out, and I needed time to decide if there was anything else I could show �em.

No. There was not. I walked �em to the bus stop and made sure they got on the bus back to their car. (I offered to ride back with them to make sure, but it woulda been pointless--I had had picked a meeting place that they had been to 11,000 times.)

Did I mention that the salad I ordered had tomatoes the size of blueberries?

So the bus picked �em up right away, and my mission to convince my parents that I live in a crazy hip fantasy world was a success.

From there I called the Roommate and met her in Harvard, where she bought a tank top she didn�t try on first, and I showed her a thing I wanted to buy. She suggested another store, so we walked to Central, hoping to get caffeine for her, but it didn�t work out, and then we decided to get a drink at a bar, which is fun for everyone. But first a stop at a record store, where we bought no records. When we got to the the bar, we realized we didn�t have enough money, so then a walk to the ATM, and then back again. And so on--I pulled off the Cambridge fantasy world for my parents, and thank god. I�m not saying that the remainder of my day, with the Roommate wasn�t fun--it was, and we got stuff we needed to get done over with--good day. What I�m saying is that, of anyone on the planet, I think my parents should be the people to visit Cambridge, to see their son, and to think that everything is magical in that person�s life.

And that salad I had today, it was so good. It spoke to me. It said don�t edit tonight.