Wang jokes and pumpkins
On Friday night, we went to see Jon Stewart at the Wang Centre. He's doing occasional one-off stand-up shows in various cities, and as he's going to bear me many children one day, I figured we should go. He did an hour and a half on everything from the venue ("it sounds like a penis treatment clinic and looks like the inside of Marie Antoinette's vagina") to gay marriage to the imbalance between funding for the military and spending on education ("forget smart bombs; it's cheaper to just drop illiterate kids on Baghdad.") to Bush's manner of speaking (it's not that he's stupid--it's that he thinks the rest of us are stupid: "Freedom ... it's ... good.")
After the show, we met up with Tim and Peter (who had much better seats than us) and went to Finale for a heapin' helpin' of sugar and chocolate to celebrate Peter's birthday. The Boy and I shared a sampler plate with roasted pear, lemon bundt cake in blood orange sauce, chocolate cake with butterscotch sauce and a blackberry-merlot sorbet. Very nice with a glass of Sauternes.
On Saturday, The Boy took me for a day of suburban entertainment. First we stopped at Arena Farms outside Concord to check out their obscenely enormous display of pumpkins. Heavy rains in the spring meant the punkin crop was lower this year, but they still had a metric buttload of gourds.
I also got to feed the sheeps, which made me happy.
Then we drove out to Nancy's Air Field Cafe at Stow airport for lunch. It's a small room--maybe 15 tables--and I suspect most of the customers are regulars and locals. Nancy makes a point of supporting local farmers, so the meat and seasonal produce come from the surrounding area. I had the Persian lamb burger (good, but not as good as when The Boy does it with ras-el-hanout) and a tasty pomegranate-champagne cocktail. The Boy had chicken pot pie, which was loaded with veggies and big chunks of chicken.
And here I have to share one of my favorite interchanges with The Boy, which happened last spring:
The Boy: So you know how sometimes I go to Stow airport for lunch and get the lamb burger? Well, today I drove past the farm that provides the meat, and I saw all these cute little lambs bouncing around in the field. So I decided I'm not going to do that any more.
Me: What, you're not going to order the lamb burger?
The Boy: No, I'm not going to drive past the farm.
After lunch, we went into Maynard, where the town's artspace was having an open studio. The building used to be a school, and still felt like one (the oversized clocks, water fountains and cafeteria serving-window were still in place). Some of the art was dynamic and interesting (like Steven Bogart's swirling oil and enamel abstracts); a large amount was uninspired and noodly (watercolors of trees, boats, seashells).
And then there was Judith Jaffe. I'm not sure what she's trying to communicate, but I suspect she's working through a childhood trauma that involved bird-headed men, howling babies, and dogs like the ones Beavis drew in animation class. Here are some examples of her work, though apart from "Family Outing" and "Man Plans, God Laughs #3" they really don't do justice to her oeuvre.
Her work did make me realize one thing, though: it's time for another trip to The Museum of Bad Art.
After the show, we met up with Tim and Peter (who had much better seats than us) and went to Finale for a heapin' helpin' of sugar and chocolate to celebrate Peter's birthday. The Boy and I shared a sampler plate with roasted pear, lemon bundt cake in blood orange sauce, chocolate cake with butterscotch sauce and a blackberry-merlot sorbet. Very nice with a glass of Sauternes.
On Saturday, The Boy took me for a day of suburban entertainment. First we stopped at Arena Farms outside Concord to check out their obscenely enormous display of pumpkins. Heavy rains in the spring meant the punkin crop was lower this year, but they still had a metric buttload of gourds.
I also got to feed the sheeps, which made me happy.
Then we drove out to Nancy's Air Field Cafe at Stow airport for lunch. It's a small room--maybe 15 tables--and I suspect most of the customers are regulars and locals. Nancy makes a point of supporting local farmers, so the meat and seasonal produce come from the surrounding area. I had the Persian lamb burger (good, but not as good as when The Boy does it with ras-el-hanout) and a tasty pomegranate-champagne cocktail. The Boy had chicken pot pie, which was loaded with veggies and big chunks of chicken.
And here I have to share one of my favorite interchanges with The Boy, which happened last spring:
The Boy: So you know how sometimes I go to Stow airport for lunch and get the lamb burger? Well, today I drove past the farm that provides the meat, and I saw all these cute little lambs bouncing around in the field. So I decided I'm not going to do that any more.
Me: What, you're not going to order the lamb burger?
The Boy: No, I'm not going to drive past the farm.
After lunch, we went into Maynard, where the town's artspace was having an open studio. The building used to be a school, and still felt like one (the oversized clocks, water fountains and cafeteria serving-window were still in place). Some of the art was dynamic and interesting (like Steven Bogart's swirling oil and enamel abstracts); a large amount was uninspired and noodly (watercolors of trees, boats, seashells).
And then there was Judith Jaffe. I'm not sure what she's trying to communicate, but I suspect she's working through a childhood trauma that involved bird-headed men, howling babies, and dogs like the ones Beavis drew in animation class. Here are some examples of her work, though apart from "Family Outing" and "Man Plans, God Laughs #3" they really don't do justice to her oeuvre.
Her work did make me realize one thing, though: it's time for another trip to The Museum of Bad Art.
posted by LimeyG at
8:31 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home