“Are we fighting each other?”
“Dude don’t fight me. I’d enjoy killing you, but I’m not going to kill you.”
“Dude, we need to stick together, or else we’ll keep dying.”
This is a snatch of the conversation in the living room between Drew, above, and his friends, one of whom is on the other end of the couch, the other on a headphone. This is where he sits and interacts with video games thrown onto the TV. This is where he lives. This is what these 11-year-old boys do.
Sue and I talked about the violent games in boys’ lives on the way to our short half-hour ski today. I commiserated with her, knowing that to forbid the games would make them even more attractive. “Since he’s so sensitive, I don’t worry too much,” she says. “And the game is very social, cooperative.” I agreed. “And yet,” I wondered out loud, “will these games desensitize him?” The landscapes these “guns” move through are ruined cities, exploding cars, and so on, the usual detritus of a world gone mad. Programming for a ruined future?
On the other hand, Drew is truly a dear. Who knows? I throw up my hands, let go.
We aimed to get our ski in, at another conservation area nearby, before the next snow storm begins. A few hours later, it’s now falling, thick, big flakes, to drop another 4-7 inches on already snow-packed ground, and then start to melt, big time, tomorrow. Floods next?
On the way home we discuss how to juggle our various events this week. Sue has agreed to work with me on my computer and website issues. That’s one afternoon. I have agreed to take Kiera into Cambridge to lunch and a bead shop. That’s another afternoon. Or morning? Sue goes in for a preview of her new part time software job tomorrow, to start next week. Ray and Nancy are coming for dinner Thursday. Sean has three days off. Hmmm. Some kind of a family expedition? What? I will probably start driving back to Indiana on Saturday, depending on weather.
Yesterday was a great day, though very cold and somewhat windy. Sue, Drew and I did drive up to Essex, but I ended up not staying the night, due to the uncertainties of this storm. We went out to lunch at Shea’s, a great place right on the Essex River, a few miles from where it meets the sea. Here’s the views out the window by our table.
The river is frozen, even though it also rises and falls with the tide. Across the other way, Nancy points me to the boat yard where they kept their boat when she was a kid.
Afterwards, a waitress agreed to take our photo.
Then we all reconvened at Singing Beach, a few miles south, facing east, and protected somewhat from the wind. And though I took photos there, none of them show puppy Shadow, who was moving so fast and ecstatically that I wouldn’t be surprised if, on his death bed many years hence, he reviews his life and stops at that winter day on Singing Beach, where he reveled in the most wonderful wild run of his long, happy life.
So this morning, when I returned from our ski, I immediately got in my car, this time with puppy Shadow, and headed back to the same ski area, also a great trail for dogs. We started out.
Whew! Let’s get outta here.
On way home, I decided to stop at TJ Maxx, nearby, since I have been told recently that my clothes are looking threadbare. And yes, all my favorite warm winter clothes seem to be getting thinner with each wash. No thrift stores in this neck of the woods, so I looked forward to bargains. Well, going around that store, all I found was thin, designed to entice or command, synthetic fabrics, meant to either get a man or move up in the working world. Yuck! Where are the thick, all-cotton sweat pants?
On my way out I notice some purses on a shelf in a section of the store designated for high-fallutin’ fashion items.
Check this out. $2000! And that’s TX Maxx bargain price!
Ye gods! What planet is this?