tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80251807023907943092012-03-11T11:24:07.644-04:00Outpourings from an old-fashioned room in a historic neighborhood<br> in the fairest city of a very blue state<br> by a person who understands the importance of layer cake.A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.comBlogger9171100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-85312716379578494442012-03-09T23:59:00.196-05:002012-03-10T01:10:34.328-05:00

It is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.  Chinese proverb. But why not multitask? I think it's fine to silently curse the darkness the whole time you're lighting your candles. (Why stop at one?) Get it all out of your system. It's a soothing ritual for head and heart, it's far less annoying than yoga, and you get to play with fire before sitting down in solitude and (

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-35330013917578441212012-03-08T21:25:00.001-05:002012-03-08T21:25:36.174-05:00

Over at PaperSource on Boylston Street, they have a display of soft, squishy little bunnies. Everyone heads straight for them, to squeeze and coo:   I bought one to send to my aunt. She hasn't been feeling well for a while, and could use some cheering up. I knew she'd enjoy it. I went back the next day and bought a second one, just because: I discovered that Possum disapproves of cute

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-18478065552934622432012-03-07T22:46:00.001-05:002012-03-07T22:50:43.441-05:00

I don't know about you, but it seems to me that it's dogs, dogs, dogs, everywhere I look. Dogs have been trendy and popular for far too long. Like, centuries. For one thing, dogs are always on TV, which may partly explain why I rarely watch any. Even when they aren't being trotted around in Madison Square Garden, they're all over the tube. Even the Downton Abbey titles feature a close-up tracking

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-3848497760159757542012-03-06T11:18:00.003-05:002012-03-06T17:01:37.644-05:00

I don't usually speculate on the intelligence of my cats, although I have a general idea. Intelligence in a feline isn't always a good thing. It's sufficient that they recognize you, remember the locations of their food dish and litter box, and don't roll off the furniture when they're sleeping. You may not want your cat to be sharp-witted about foreign policy or obsessed with an art-historical

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-85202620182897443992012-03-04T19:44:00.001-05:002012-03-04T19:47:06.206-05:00

Here is Possum's official portrait as the presumed Baron von Rümpüsspüssë. He says The Lutefisk Legend requested it:  I had to talk him out of sending one of those poses where he's showing off his well-upholstered belly. He says he reminded the reporter that his father may still be alive, so it's not certain that he's inherited the title despite the untimely squashing of his uncle and

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-50072548125261405382012-03-03T23:28:00.004-05:002012-03-04T00:32:56.762-05:00

The last few times I've seen a doctor, my blood pressure readings were unusually high, in the pre-hypertension range, around 136/90, bordering on the Real Thing. It happened again yesterday. My doctor knows I'm a prime candidate for "white-coat hypertension," which occurs when a patient gets so stressed from being in a doctor's office that her blood pressure soars despite being normal the rest

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-30461685113547930442012-03-01T23:03:00.000-05:002012-03-01T23:03:07.505-05:00

Cold, dark, rainy, miserable. It turned to snow much later than predicted. I stayed indoors all day — and still got my 10,000 steps. It was deeply boring, even with Vanity Fair magazine and lots of breaks but at least it warmed me up. Snalbert had a better idea. He wore his furry slippers and napped all day: Wendy uses her massive tail to keep warm:  Possum prefers to tuck himself

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-91669161074382562832012-02-29T23:53:00.000-05:002012-03-01T00:07:19.454-05:00

They have been predicting two days of snow, totaling perhaps 4 to 8 inches in the city. I was skeptical, like so many of us locals who have been let down before by winter storm false alarms. (Did you know that in Italian, it's falso allarme, and in Spanish, falsa alarma?  This knowledge might come in handy when the alarm goes off in your foreign hotel.) Anyway, it's only been raining tonight.

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-77949185560027971822012-02-28T14:50:00.000-05:002012-02-28T14:50:42.043-05:00

While we can learn much about living wisely and well from our animal roommates, some of their ideas should be ignored. Here are a few of Possum's theories and practices that I have rejected, and so should you: 1. Bathroom window shades are delicious. (None of those bite marks are mine.) 2.  Like to snack? Dip your paw in wet food and quietly smear it on the cabinets, walls, and fridge. If your

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-83356641226804208292012-02-27T22:10:00.002-05:002012-03-01T23:08:44.887-05:00

Wendy has a kitten — a big-eyed calico with face markings just like her:

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-69440029420877392392012-02-25T23:54:00.000-05:002012-02-25T23:55:21.732-05:00

Needing a short break from wearing myself out over whether to buy that Victorian house in Quincy, I decided to browse through some old bookmarks in my "Decorating" folder. Big mistake. On Bradbury & Bradbury's art wallpaper site, I stumbled upon their new "Persian Roomset,"which has nothing to do with cats: All photos from Bradbury & Bradbury. I know just the turreted parlor in Quincy that

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-88767443001259890312012-02-24T22:27:00.001-05:002012-02-24T23:57:45.843-05:00

Cats are the ultimate decorative accessory, see above. But we like to hang pictures on our walls, too. In November, we bought two landscape oil studies by Sam Vokey during the Fenway Studios Open House. Mr. Vokey gave us bargain prices — he is very friendly, and he was also clearing out his studio to relocate up north. He warned us that frames would be

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-24904803517563414262012-02-23T22:12:00.002-05:002012-02-25T10:34:11.611-05:00

Last fall, I reported that Wendy and Possum had begun training for a competitive cat sport called Pairs Slacking; I discuss the some of its basic elements in that post. If you happen to follow the sport, you know that almost all of the commentators and judges take their inspiration from figure skating's legendary Dick Button. I suppose that's because he was relentlessly catty; a fussy attitude

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-60921939058667355082012-02-22T09:47:00.008-05:002012-02-22T12:40:48.960-05:00

We now come to the conclusion of Possum's family saga. See previous post. After we finished rejoicing over Matthew and Mary's engagement, We turned the TV off and returned to Possum's story. My husband and I offered profuse condolences and sympathies over the deaths of his Uncle Podmere and two cousins. Then I said, "Possum, tell us how it happened." He looked away. "There was an incident.

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-34846996608382140462012-02-21T14:12:00.003-05:002012-02-21T14:21:16.157-05:00

Possum had been distracted and quiet for days, and on Sunday night, he finally began telling us his secret during the Viking cruise ads that always run on Channel 2 around episodes of Downton Abbey.  This poor timing was my fault; Possum and my husband will do anything to keep me from yelping "Tip! Tip!" and leaning sideways at an acute angle whenever I see a cruise ship in those ads. I know

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-46126105431997017312012-02-19T23:07:00.001-05:002012-02-20T20:37:15.951-05:00

Ah, the stars finally aligned. Season 2 of Downton Abbey has ended with Matthew finally proposing to Lady Mary and then twirling her around joyfully in the snow. Mr. Bates isn't going to be hanged, Thomas didn't kill the dog, Matthew punched Sir Richard, Daisy is probably getting promoted, and Sybil is married and on the nest in Dublin. It looks like there might even be hope for Edith and her old

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-3456029749285501562012-02-18T23:52:00.002-05:002012-02-19T11:50:14.693-05:00

Dilemma. The Victorian house we saw today in Quincy is incredible. We fell in love. It has original, natural woodwork and flooring in every room — all of its original moldings, windows, doors, and built-ins. There are elaborate fireplaces and elegant period light fixtures and wallpapers, plus a pantry and three original slate laundry sinks. The old push-button light switches were replaced with

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-32937824608090980702012-02-17T21:45:00.003-05:002012-02-17T23:48:02.481-05:00

Today we checked out a stunning Arts and Crafts–style house in Dorchester. How could we resist? It's a lovely house, with high-ceilinged, quirky rooms and lots of space for books. The kitchen and bath are very old and need replacing, which I like. There are many fireplaces, and a huge copper beech on the front lawn. But there's no "village" nearby. Everyone drives to get practically

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-61121649641815655832012-02-16T21:29:00.002-05:002012-02-17T09:44:19.763-05:00

A friend and I went walking in the South End at the spur of the moment today. We checked out many of my favorite shops, including the new Patch NYC location, hidden away in a brick-paved courtyard off Waltham Street. I had to drag myself away from a case of earrings with faceted gems of in a rainbow of colors, cut in unusual shapes and wrapped in gold. I liked the teal ones, the fiery orange,

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-72541815958667325252012-02-15T21:12:00.003-05:002012-02-16T00:48:35.389-05:00

I could write volumes about Downton Abbey and bore you all to death, but there's no need when bloggers Tom and Lorenzo do such a splendid job. I may not agree with everything they say, but they are sharp-eyed, amusing, and venerate Lady Violet as she deserves. Burying Lavinia with a light heart and (almost) a straight face I was in tears when William died in Episode 6, of course, but I

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-51424905114536605602012-02-14T14:17:00.000-05:002012-02-14T14:19:26.800-05:00

You may recall that last week, the Jane Eyre portion of my conscience exhorted me to clean up my desk in exchange for a pair of tall brown boots I'd been eyeing at Lord & Taylor. Reader, I tried.  I'm still trying. In December, I had great zeal for decluttering, prompted by the massive clean-out we did of a relative's house. I couldn't wait to attack our apartment. I'm still weirdly attracted

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-24726540998586538372012-02-13T12:41:00.001-05:002012-02-13T12:41:10.032-05:00

Saturday's non-snowstorm was disappointing in terms of picturesque whiteness. Boston always looks its grungiest at this time of year. Still, I'm happy to pound our brick sidewalks without wiping out on ice, while keeping up my usual "Boston" pace (brisk, with sudden stops for windows displaying cats or antique jewelry). I suppose it's a decent tradeoff. But I'd still like to see a little snow,

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-16575171323487151642012-02-11T16:23:00.000-05:002012-02-11T16:23:00.403-05:00

Two years ago, when Possum and Wendy were kittens, they'd often curl up together on the bed for naps: Sometimes they still do: (And that's a bit of Snalbert on the left.)

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-10187316481714499172012-02-10T23:46:00.010-05:002012-02-11T00:03:33.616-05:00

Last month, I spotted this Gucci Fiat as I was walking in Copley Place on a bitter day. I've never had the slightest desire to own anything from Gucci, and I prefer the Mini Cooper to the Fiat, although I like both for their distinctive designs and tiny size. But when you put Gucci and Fiat together, well... that's Italian!  With interlocking "GG" logos on the hubcabs and the famous stripes

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-91089327357324540772012-02-09T17:49:00.001-05:002012-02-09T17:56:19.539-05:00

I discovered that same online shop that provided Wendy with a giant catnip-filled serpent also sells her original green snake. I ordered two as back-ups for when hers is in tatters from being carried in her mouth. I also requested one in a different color, just to see if it's the greenness or the snaky shape that attracts Wendy most. The result of the experiment is that Wendy wants nothing to do

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-34593821987528696352012-02-08T12:52:00.000-05:002012-02-08T12:52:27.618-05:00

I think a large, well-shaped nose shows strength of character, don't you?

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-21247546224335987472012-02-06T23:47:00.002-05:002012-02-07T09:57:23.385-05:00

A little-reported hazard of the 10,000-step daily walking routine is that blustery, bone-chilling weather finds you nipping into stores, where you're tempted by merchandise you'd otherwise never have seen. Sometimes you walk out of a store much heavier than when you went in. These Joan and David boots are deeply on sale at Lord & Taylor and sold out everywhere else. They're the last pair. They

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-10380100024717692872012-02-05T12:27:00.003-05:002012-02-17T23:57:35.566-05:00

My new coverlet, purchased during Garnet Hill's recent flash sale, arrived. It's a thing of beauty — huge, heavy, velvety to the touch, and all cotton. When I began to unfold the coverlet on our bed to see how it would look, Possum got into the act by lying on it and rolling around, his long back feet waving in the air. Rolling around is not his style, since it expends calories and could be

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-90239565751371582132012-02-04T00:10:00.001-05:002012-02-04T09:28:48.616-05:00

It's one of my favorite pastimes, but I've never tried it Snalbert's way: Still, I get the same results he does. After a few pages, zzzzz....

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-24829726969679179732012-02-03T18:48:00.002-05:002012-02-04T20:51:55.365-05:00

I've been enjoying my Simplex kettle for a little more than a year now, after a tough search to find one of the last ones for sale in the United States. The venerable British company closed its factory without warning in the summer of 2010, after more than a century of manufacturing kettles. Last summer, I reported that a metalsmithing company had purchased the factory and planned to restart

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-45836319497094089912012-02-02T12:22:00.001-05:002012-02-02T12:28:39.036-05:00

One may be a Proper Bostonian now, but one was a Proper Pennsylvanian then.  It's hard to break old habits, so this morning I grabbed my groundhog — or my closest, most reasonable facsimile of a rodent, this being Boston. (You never see groundhogs in Boston; they prefer Pennsylvania for reasons unknown, and they are a dime a dozen down there.) I placed my rodent facsimile in natural light and

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-4858615187722355052012-02-01T23:02:00.003-05:002012-02-10T14:57:19.925-05:00

I'm not a fan of food trucks. I prefer restaurants — they don't keep traipsing around the city to different,  obscure locations (except for Geoffrey's). If I'm hungry for something from a particular place, I want to go there and eat it directly. I do not want to have to consult calendars, websites, and Google maps. I do not want to play "Who Moved My Cheese Sandwich?" I want to eat. Possum

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-64486081135886691562012-01-31T17:59:00.004-05:002012-01-31T18:13:26.856-05:00

Possum and I were talking about football the other day and, for once, we were in agreement. Now, neither of us knows much about football, and we each have a few eccentric ideas. Possum says it would be a much more exciting game if they let rats loose during plays and the offense had to catch one before scoring. I suppose he has a point. I think the uniforms are uniformly awful except for the

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-69615041394071669692012-01-30T14:57:00.006-05:002012-01-30T15:07:28.196-05:00

Monday is Laundry Day for this Proper Bostonian, who follows the Victorian tradition even if she doesn't have a washboard, tub, and drying room as her ancestors did. I keep our apartment-sized machines busy, often with three loads. The color load was unusually heavy today. More than 17 pounds heavier than normal:  Should you launder fur? I guess not. Possum doesn't usually burrow under

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-60318175077846875582012-01-29T20:40:00.010-05:002012-01-29T20:54:54.222-05:00

I miss the Pottery Barn store formerly on Newbury Street; it was a fun place to browse, and I'm partial to their baskets, paisley fabrics, and bath towels. I bought everything from a complete set of bathroom hardware to bags of seashells. Someone keeps giving me Williams-Sonoma gift cards for Christmas and, since my kitchen can't hold even an extra drinking glass, I decided to see if I could

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-3660310875610070972012-01-27T21:52:00.002-05:002012-01-28T10:29:20.716-05:00

Wendy received a very large, pale green snake in the mail yesterday, a gift from her aunt. She doesn't know what to make of a toy this large, as you can see from her wide-eyed expression. I hope she warms up to it. I would love to see her carrying this serpent around, singing her head off, as she does with her little green fuzzy snake. I often choose toys based on how ridiculous they would look

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-25417283335833695462012-01-26T22:49:00.001-05:002012-01-26T22:57:17.654-05:00

I couldn't believe my eyes as I walked along the sunny side of Commonwealth Avenue this cold, gray afternoon: Last year, I first spotted snowdrops on March 9, and here they are already — springtime in January. The rhododendrons are budding, too.  Do the flowers know something we don't? Will Bostonians have warm spring weather in March for a change, instead of having to wait until May or

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-58066919257445994442012-01-25T21:32:00.005-05:002012-01-29T10:22:47.256-05:00

I'm a Facebook friend of Garnet Hill — and we're even "friends with benefits" because they occasionally have special offers, including flash sales, that are only advertised on Facebook. Garnet Hill is one of a handful of sites and stores where I shop regularly and happily. Their quality, aesthetics, and pricing meet my fussy standards. I also like the fact that they are based in New England. And

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-37913208531815534522012-01-24T14:21:00.002-05:002012-01-29T11:53:12.254-05:00

We seldom photograph Snicky because she hasn't been her former, ultra-glamorous self for a long time, perhaps three years. In recent months, she's been looking worse than ever — she's lost weight to the point of being skeletal, and a visit to the groomer in the fall left her with large bald patches in her faded tortoiseshell fur. That was not the groomer's fault, but ours, since we've never

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-56341803126140895582012-01-22T20:54:00.002-05:002012-01-23T09:05:00.700-05:00

Last night, I realized that there weren't any open houses that I was even half-hearted about seeing today, and fell into a bit of a funk. That's always my cue to broaden my online search well beyond Boston. I imagine us with a horse farm in Concord, or running a bed-and-breakfast in some sprawling, decrepit mansion in Salem. I fantasize until I remember that I love Boston best and fall back into

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-86236057533067137002012-01-21T17:11:00.000-05:002012-01-21T17:11:49.211-05:00

Thursday night's snowfall was enough to make walking dangerous yesterday morning. I was hanging around in my bathrobe yesterday morning, drinking tea and looking out the window, when I saw an older man with a cane struggling on our brick sidewalk. He was stuck, unable to move in any direction. Doomed. As I watched in horror, he began rapidly shuffling backwards — out of control on a slippery

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-69787186514364357012012-01-20T19:50:00.002-05:002012-01-20T19:54:20.224-05:00

When I told Possum about my experience at the library (see previous post), he asked me why I didn't just put my ears back and hiss if someone was coming too close for comfort. "That's what I always do," he said. "Hissing may be a nonviolent deterrent but it always means business. Be sure to show off your teeth. If that doesn't work, you should growl, but that's most effective if you have a tail

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-81566934487640245972012-01-19T16:34:00.000-05:002012-01-19T16:34:00.405-05:00

Yesterday I went to the Boston Public Library, main branch, to return an overdue book. Remind me never to get in this situation again. I joined the line as two employees worked behind the counter. To my right, a tall, broad-shouldered man with obvious mental health issues was striding around the lobby and the area where we stood in line. He was agitated, talking to himself in a paranoid,

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-83684430763169123272012-01-18T21:21:00.000-05:002012-01-18T21:21:47.351-05:00

Pretty "Wainscott" d'Orsay pumps from Anthropologie, in two fabrics: peacock feathers or a butterfly garden scene. With patent leather bows that remind me of the birthday presents of my childhood. They are probably ridiculously painful, and they are ridiculously expensive for sure. But who cares? Just the fact of their existence cheers me up. They're little works of art for our feet. (Not

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-20969161398434282342012-01-16T22:34:00.001-05:002012-01-16T22:35:15.053-05:00

I just looked out the window and saw a light blanket of white. "Snow is general all over Boston," I thought, remembering the final lines of James Joyce's The Dead. Yes, the news­pa­pers were right: snow was gen­eral all over Ire­land. It was falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, fur­ther west­wards, softly falling into the dark muti­nous Shan­non waves. It was falling too upon every part of

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-8338022348715865532012-01-16T15:07:00.002-05:002012-01-16T20:27:19.997-05:00

I can't watch TV without reading, web-surfing, or doing something. I spent the Giants-Packers game sorting through more than a year's worth of papers that had accumulated around my desk — in teetering piles or stuffed into little shopping bags, a file box, and the laughably small metal organizer that was supposed to hold everything. Once again, my desk was taking its inspiration from Hoarder

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-14105073146564822732012-01-15T18:28:00.000-05:002012-01-15T18:28:51.045-05:00

I went to a condo open house deep in the South End today. Man, it was cold walking over there. I could feel my Philosophy sunblock freezing into crystals on my face. I have no idea how I managed to get my 10,000+ daily steps throughout last year's frosty, icy winter. It's already proving to be a challenge this year. (I spend many evenings jogging in place indoors, in my socks, with a book...) I

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-37510975624999475812012-01-14T15:58:00.000-05:002012-01-14T15:58:50.134-05:00

Or a coat like Julie Andrews wore as she flew around with her talking umbrella and carpetbag in Mary Poppins. I confess I've seen that movie more than any other (not counting all the Godfathers). I saw it seven times in theaters, having gotten a head start when I was five. I still proudly play the soundtrack on my iPod, and I know every word. (Thanks to Dick Van Dyke's dreadful Cockney accent,

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-85577158840014396692012-01-13T21:54:00.000-05:002012-01-13T21:54:48.848-05:00

... happened during Sunday night's episode of Downton Abbey, the Masterpiece series properly adored by all Proper Bostonians. I doubt that anything that might happen tomorrow — or until the next episode of Downton — will top this line by Maggie Smith: Edith! You're a lady, not Toad of Toad Hall. It put me in the mood to reread Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows, one of my all-time

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-86097114169699994482012-01-12T21:54:00.004-05:002012-01-12T22:03:04.042-05:00

I try to keep things positive on this blog, but I have to say it: Snalbert's breath could kill someone elderly, frail, or with a compromised immune system. He has the worst breath of any cat I've ever known. If he's on the floor near my chair and opens his mouth to yawn or talk to me, I practically keel over. When I give him his blood-pressure pill at night, it's almost enough to make my hair

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-80886116097238863542012-01-11T23:59:00.007-05:002012-01-12T12:44:57.730-05:00

Last year, after I thought I'd put away all the Christmas decorations, I kept finding odds and ends I'd neglected to pack. I always leave one balsam wreath up for an extra month or two because it's so loaded with pinecones that you can't tell it's dead, and it still smells like Maine. But in the days after I thought I was done undecorating, I found the antique postcards I'd arranged on a

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-82142913516251913712012-01-10T17:19:00.001-05:002012-01-10T21:33:47.795-05:00

I went to my laptop this morning and found this: Someone had been using my mail program, but instead of sending messages, he'd opened about 100 note documents. And he didn't know how to hide the evidence. By now, I don't need proof to know the perpetrator. Snalbert.  Snictoria and Wendy have no interest in communicating with the outside world. They know you can't email a mouse to come

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-5315815787081384172012-01-09T14:31:00.001-05:002012-01-09T14:33:16.663-05:00

A pair of unlikely allies joined forces to protest the removal of the Christmas tree in our apartment yesterday. They occupied the boxes so I couldn't put away the decorations. I can sympathize with their plight: it's hard to be a Furry Woodland Creature or a Wily Hunter of the Forest when you don't have even one lousy tree to hide under. But the tree was dropping needles by the bucket-load

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-17328324147170529252012-01-07T10:41:00.005-05:002012-01-07T21:28:46.145-05:00

I feel mildly guilty telling you about these... Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Almonds with Sea Salt and Turbinado Sugar. I'm not wild about nuts; I like them well enough. But add chocolate, sugar, and sea salt, and watch out. These little devils are terribly, terribly addictive. Be warned: I hope you have more self-control than I do. One of my husband's former students gave him a tub of these

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-88620380284068121362012-01-05T22:59:00.002-05:002012-01-05T23:00:19.616-05:00

We're feeling positive that this will be the year we move. New listings are finally coming on the market after the long dry spell that began before Thanksgiving. We've been looking for almost two years; we alternate between wary optimism and despair after all this time. This living room, spotted in a current listing, cheered me right up:  I can just imagine the realtor having her typical

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-91153243204614269332012-01-04T19:26:00.001-05:002012-01-04T19:27:53.122-05:00

Without (almost) any prompting, I was lucky to receive four Anthropologie gift cards for Christmas from various family members. How did they ever guess? The cards are made of thick cardboard, which makes my wallet bulge. To spare its poor zipper, I felt I had to spend at least one card right away. There was one item I loved but didn't buy at the amazing pre-Christmas sale, when sale items were

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-41087666355959887432012-01-03T22:28:00.001-05:002012-01-04T00:10:15.457-05:00

For your amusement and horror: sculptor/photographer Carrie M. Becker's series, Barbie Trashes Her Dreamhouse. I'm amazed by the creepy authenticity of her doll-sized scenes, much of which Ms. Becker makes by hand and then photographs. I think she is ingenious and terrifically gifted to have imagined and created such exquisite miniature trash and assembled these frighteningly realistic scenes:

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-5373262366893864452012-01-02T20:03:00.000-05:002012-01-02T20:03:23.799-05:00

In preparation for the upcoming cold snap, our heavy German flannel sheets (rather than the everyday Portuguese flannel sheets) are on the bed, under the extra-heavy down comforter and two coverlets. Our bedroom is drafty, and I can't putty the windows with Mortite as I've done every winter with my injured (but slowly recovering) hand. It is complicated to make the bed when there's a massive

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-35849850180302719542012-01-01T19:48:00.000-05:002012-01-01T19:48:54.899-05:00

We came in a few minutes ago from our first Anna's Taqueria burritos of 2012. (What took us so long? The Patriots game.) I found that Snalbert had been working at my computer yet again. He loves technology and has been known to open programs, type his own commentary in my Word documents, and send the occasional email. He also once installed a FireFox update successfully on my laptop using his

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-84291392592326296892011-12-31T21:04:00.003-05:002012-01-01T22:45:54.641-05:00

Possum wishes everyone a healthy, bird-and-rodent-filled New Year and hopes you've made some decent resolutions. He plans to sing louder in 2012, get back to work on his movie career, and take more time to eat the roses. As for me, I have so many resolutions in mind that I can't decide which ones to take seriously. Later. But I will pledge that we'll have a new address by 12/31/2012. And

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-35011073052259438852011-12-30T22:48:00.000-05:002011-12-30T22:48:31.101-05:00

I'm glad to be posting after a three-day break, but I'm too full of cheese and chocolate-caramel fondues from the Wine Cellar tonight to concentrate well. Before we left for Bethlehem, we had to take Snicky to the vet. She kept trotting in and out of the litter box and clearly had a urinary tract infection. A small accident on the bed clinched it. Her timing was perfect; how lucky that she

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-81149163634400294972011-12-27T09:14:00.000-05:002011-12-27T09:14:53.058-05:00

We're heading to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, the Christmas City of the USA, to visit my family for a couple of days. We are sad to be leaving our heavily ornamented and cat-filled apartment: But things will be festive and overdecorated in the CC, too.

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-55721059344823854252011-12-26T20:18:00.001-05:002012-01-13T16:40:40.852-05:00

I suspect you were not so covetous nor avaricious as to visit the Anthropologie website on Christmas Day. I was, of course, and was rewarded with this charming quilled (curled paper) creation on the homepage: This morning, I went out early on my traditional quest for half-price wrapping paper, buying rolls at Papyrus and Crane's. Then I met my husband at Brooks Brothers for their annual

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-76564581253888920102011-12-25T14:51:00.000-05:002011-12-25T14:51:09.774-05:00

Snalbert and Possum enjoyed their presents with us. Snicky had hers on the bed, where she was napping. We haven't seen Wendy, but she quietly knocked over the fireplace screen in the middle of the night and helped herself to the sparkly balls in the top of her little stocking. She's having her own private Christmas under the bed. We opened wonderful presents galore and discovered that

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-77550873941213525612011-12-24T23:10:00.001-05:002011-12-25T00:08:26.781-05:00

Two gingerbread men from Bova's took a suicide dive last night from our kitchen counter, then tried to eat their way out of the bag. I'm not sure how they managed all that since they are securely wrapped in cellophane. I cleaned the house, polished the silver, and brought out more candles; our little place glows. But I can't wait to move! Next year, we'll have Christmas in a bigger, equally

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-75767818865998212442011-12-23T19:50:00.001-05:002011-12-23T19:51:42.124-05:00

As I posted earlier, I was not in the mood this year to embellish our Christmas presents with elaborate ribbons and handmade bows. I mostly used the pre-made, stick-on kind. Some of my relatives sniff at these as inadequate while others think they're too extravagant. As far as I'm concerned, these positions neutralize each other. I bought three bags of bows from CVS. But I had no idea that these

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-55385632281977415952011-12-22T21:52:00.001-05:002011-12-22T21:53:25.352-05:00

We were at the Brookline Star Market tonight, buying ingredients to make Martha Stewart's Chocolate Gingerbread Cookies. I needed fresh ginger and, lo and behold, I found this: Other people find Jesus on a piece of toast or the Virgin Mary in the streaks on a hospital window. I got a rat. Look — it even has a little eye and ear, and there's definitely a ratty nose and mouth. After that,

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-75920093386322895042011-12-22T00:34:00.002-05:002012-01-13T16:42:54.934-05:00

Want to spread Christmas cheer — or at least the scent of it — through your kitchen? Try dropping a full bottle of Penzey's Pumpkin Pie Spice from a great height, perhaps your second-highest kitchen shelf, way over your head. If it explodes in a rust-colored cloud, as mine did tonight, The Smell of Christmas will be with you for some time to come. I almost dropped a newly filled canister of

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-1689449890397961742011-12-21T00:01:00.000-05:002011-12-20T23:48:22.438-05:00

I took a very long break from gift-wrapping yesterday afternoon to visit Anthropologie, where all the sale items had been marked down another 50 percent. This is my idea of a great sale; I know Anthropologie does markdowns on Tuesdays, but I was surprised to see this kind of deal before Christmas. There was already a very long line at the registers when I barreled in around lunchtime. The lower

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-88398116060097283652011-12-20T22:43:00.000-05:002011-12-20T22:43:49.369-05:00

I love to wrap presents. It's the ribbons, bows, and tags I can't stand. I can wrap any bottle beautifully, or any odd-shaped box, including pyramids. That's fun; I've been wrapping all the family gifts since I was a kid. But I hate fussing over the ribbons nowadays. And tags just make me tired. I bought dozens of plain gold ones that work with most of the paper I have. I try to only buy gold,

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-48149636132126843742011-12-19T23:54:00.001-05:002012-01-13T16:44:18.710-05:00

After four days of wreath-decorating to the Garden Club's exacting standards, I'm in a rebellious mood when it comes to my own wreaths. This has nothing to do with the Club or their decorating rules; I love the challenge of making wreaths that are lovely and creative enough to please the "judges." It's just my nature to be contrary. So for our bedroom, I choose a wild-looking balsam wreath with

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-73287409647599276892011-12-18T21:58:00.003-05:002012-01-13T16:45:29.289-05:00

My thanks to all of you who sent me encouraging and supportive messages during the three-dumpster house-clearing project for my relative. Like a Powdermilk Biscuit, you gave me the strength to get up and do what needed to be done. My husband and I have been out of the Christmas loop for several days, so it was nice to crank up the carols yesterday and decorate the tree. I don't remember

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-77233093065943768952011-12-17T21:25:00.001-05:002011-12-17T21:25:45.842-05:00

Our relative is back at home and adjusting to life in her clean, uncluttered house. We got multiple cryptic texts and emails from the family members who were with her when she arrived very late last night and are spending the weekend introducing her to all the changes we made. There were no tantrums, no grief, hysteria, or rage. Such responses are typical; her reaction was mild. She was delighted

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-81317826966622563572011-12-16T23:33:00.003-05:002011-12-16T23:37:17.025-05:00

Our house-clearing mission is officially ended and now we are bracing for "re-entry" — my relative is currently headed back into her "atmosphere." She's currently in Framingham, en route to encounter her decluttered, sparkling clean, wreath-bedecked house. The spacecraft metaphor is apt for her for many reasons, but particularly because her re-entry could be explosive. I will keep you posted but

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-75241650590928402692011-12-15T23:41:00.002-05:002011-12-16T09:44:59.403-05:00

We bought our tree last night at Wilson Farm in Lexington. Something spicy was in their oven when we arrived, maybe gingerbread loaves. The scent was strong, sweet and intoxicating. We became drunk with Christmas spirit. We filled our shopping cart with wreaths and boughs and bows, and stared hard at their big, fat tubes of colorful frosting, meant for decorating gingerbread men. We wanted some

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-70456381354960260032011-12-14T23:20:00.054-05:002011-12-15T01:14:32.528-05:00

I saw my doctor today about my hand. My husband and I adore her. She's our age, and quirk. She's petite, with long, wavy hair down her back. She wears long, floral, Laura Ashley–style dresses with clogs, as I did in the '80s. She squints through her spectacles and chews gum constantly. Her beside manner is brisk and businesslike in contrast to her girlish appearance. But while she may not look

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-48769207123209145822011-12-13T22:34:00.002-05:002011-12-13T22:49:27.422-05:00

I guess "my" dumpster is gone now. I hope I'll run into it here in the neighborhood; people are always gut-renovating these old Back Bay townhouses, ripping out graceful Victorian staircases, moldings, original floors, and carved mantels so they can replace it all with stuff from Home Depot and their ilk instead. Don't ask me... and it's not the dumpster's fault. I didn't go to the house today;

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-52817006235300273932011-12-12T23:58:00.005-05:002011-12-13T00:44:09.799-05:00

I still have "my" 7-ton Bay State dumpster but it will go away tomorrow, packed to the top with paper and all the rusty, filthy, moldy, rotting, infested, or decrepit things that made one of us say "Eewww!" as we cleared out my relative's house. I'm so fond of that dumpster. I never imagined I would fall in love with a giant, rusting container. I suppose I actually love what it represents: a

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-85492385235001452262011-12-11T21:32:00.002-05:002011-12-13T00:37:35.109-05:00

I've loved having the giant-sized dumpster. I love watching the full moon rise over its hulking mass in the darkness. I wish it were mine, parked at my own front door, daring me to fill it up with the unnecessary accumulations of daily life. I think everyone should be allowed a dumpster for at least a couple of days every year. Heaving and dragging things into it is so fulfilling that I can only

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-56132788296789576132011-12-10T23:35:00.005-05:002011-12-13T00:38:33.161-05:00

We made great progress with the house-clearing today. Dozens and dozens of boxes of papers were sifted through and tossed. Broken items, old furniture, dead plants, and other junk disappeared into dumpsters. Yesterday's overflowing 2-ton dumpster was replaced with a 4-ton model this morning, but to our newly experienced eyes, it looked too small for our needs. And we filled it before noon. The

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-38296321461210132182011-12-09T22:40:00.003-05:002011-12-13T00:38:12.223-05:00

I'm right smack in the middle of my ten-day December manual-labor marathon: Four days of decorating wreaths, followed by six long, dirty days of clearing out and cleaning an elderly relative's house; she has been a hoarder, mostly of paper, for more than a decade. The house has been in horrible condition for all that time but people are free to live as they please in this country — as long as

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-32627407301031995912011-12-08T23:55:00.002-05:002011-12-09T00:13:06.876-05:00

Garden Club wreaths are now bedecking doors and interiors of houses all over Back Bay, the South End, and further afield. With my trusty ice pack and gloves, I made six wreaths today, for a total of 23, beating my record of 22 from last year. I wasn't very uncomfortable; I paced myself. I decided to work primarily with large-scale materials today, so I'd need fewer items to fill the wreaths,

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-43592518817251298932011-12-07T23:51:00.001-05:002011-12-08T00:04:04.202-05:00

I once wrote an article for a health magazine about Blackberry thumb. I may be the only person alive with wreath thumb. A cold pack, Advil, a couple of hours' rest, and cotton gloves helped me finish five wreaths today. My left hand is swollen and sore between the wrist and base of my thumb, an area I've never thought about before. I think it's called the "carpal metacarpal joint," a silly name;

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-20287522822194248892011-12-06T21:59:00.003-05:002011-12-06T22:09:30.771-05:00

Today I made six wreaths in-between stuffing myself with those yummy little cinnamon rolls that Whole Foods sells in clear round tubs. The Garden Club provides a generous breakfast, lunch, and snacks for the wreath crew, and they always have these rolls. I believe I ate one per wreath today and, frankly, they are the real reason I volunteer every year. At home, I no longer graze all day long;

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-50996243443997734602011-12-05T21:42:00.000-05:002011-12-05T21:42:26.109-05:00

Every year, the Garden Club of the Back Bay makes and sells hundreds of elegantly decorated holiday wreaths. The proceeds go to support the planting and pruning of the neighborhood's street trees. We work in a church basement that's transformed into a well-stocked workshop where dozens of women are busy decorating, supervising, organizing, sweeping up the considerable mess, and making bows. I

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-71982550323528608002011-12-04T20:36:00.000-05:002011-12-04T20:36:36.262-05:00

No, not the month. For heaven's sake. March is such a lame month that I've been driven in the past to post stupid lists of Semi-Positive Things About It. I'm talking about the novel, March, by Geraldine Brooks, a parallel story of Little Women from the parents' points of view. I had no idea it had won the Pulitzer in 2006 until tonight, or I probably wouldn't have read it. (There's a sticker on

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-90249016944840553372011-12-03T22:35:00.001-05:002011-12-03T22:37:07.734-05:00

I passed this garden on Commonwealth Avenue today: It's not a great photo, sorry. (I need a better camera.) But I hope you can still see that, while the tree has lost almost all of its red leaves, all those rosebushes are still working their tails off. Every bush had blooms and most had buds. They weren't among the happiest roses I've seen — they looked like they were wishing for sweaters —

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-50584376675132241422011-12-02T23:04:00.000-05:002011-12-02T23:04:59.186-05:00

The ordinary things we use daily can make our lives either more pleasant or more frustrating. I'd like share some practical finds that have proven themselves "perfect" chez the PB. Let's begin with the kitchen towel. I wonder how many hours (days?) of my life in total I've spent pushing water around and around on wet dishes in my attempt to dry them. It seems I've never owned a decent kitchen

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-47848329945164970932011-12-01T22:55:00.001-05:002011-12-01T22:57:08.263-05:00

I think August (Maine!) is my favorite month. On the other hand, September is perhaps an even more wonderful time to live in New England. For that matter, October often has September beat for autumnal beauty. May and June are usually glorious, too. Perhaps it's best if you can't make up your mind — that way, it's your favorite month for half the year. December is another No. 1 favorite of mine.

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-26386544431549953442011-11-30T13:29:00.000-05:002011-11-30T13:29:24.191-05:00

A few years ago, I found an Aerolatte Milk Frother in my Christmas stocking. It looks like this: Santa knows I don't drink coffee and that I'm not crazy about specialized appliances and battery-operated gadgets in general. But he also knows I'm a pushover for a cup of warm cocoa or an enormous glass of chocolate milk. It used to bother me that strangers like Santa knew so much about me — and

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-71363519427225854232011-11-29T20:47:00.001-05:002011-11-29T20:50:50.458-05:00

This week was the first time I ever Christmas-shopped in flip flops. I've enjoyed our balmy November. It's great to wear a sweater instead of a coat. Even snow-loving moi prefers not to be slip-sliding on ice while shlepping shopping bags. It unusual that I was able to start shopping in November. I usually can't drag gift ideas out of my family until deeper into December. This year, several were

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-50153605667863392112011-11-27T23:49:00.002-05:002011-11-28T09:03:55.621-05:00

Well, hush my mouth. I resisted getting a new iPhone despite my husband's daily entreaties to let him buy me one. He kept insisting I needed it, citing reasons I disagreed with or didn't understand. I suggested that it was shallow and materialistic to be embarrassed if your wife uses an antiquated iPhone 3G in public; he's said he wasn't. I think he said it had something to do with iCloud and

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-23117043283264029512011-11-25T07:55:00.002-05:002011-11-25T22:57:51.460-05:00

I'm still thinking about that house. I'll get over it. Another great house will come along, probably within the next FIVE YEARS. Or so. I'm fussy. Possum has been trying to cheer me up, although he admits he'd like to live in a real house, where he could chase Wendy up and down stairs, have his own room, hunt "things" in the basement, and nap under the grape arbor on warm afternoons. (Yes, it

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-8135484942798991552011-11-24T06:30:00.017-05:002011-11-24T06:30:03.578-05:00

Give thanks for unknown blessings already on their way. This Native American saying appeared on the cover of the latest edition of The Back Bay Sun. If you happen to have a curmudgeonly relative or friend at your Thanksgiving table, who feels he has little or nothing to be thankful for, spring that on him. I know I have plenty for which to be thankful, this year and every year, but it never

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-66717304651732035792011-11-23T15:26:00.001-05:002011-11-23T17:30:01.566-05:00

I found the recipe for Ina Garten's Baked Chocolate Pudding in Good Housekeeping magazine, which keeps showing up uninvited in my mailbox. I would never subscribe, since I have a little problem with keeping too many magazines, so I rigorously edit my subscriptions. I called and emailed to ask them to stop it but it still keeps coming. I probably have this recipe in one of my four Ina Garten

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-60218953473708608232011-11-22T22:29:00.000-05:002011-11-22T22:29:38.442-05:00

We internally kicked ourselves today (we're very flexible). A few weeks ago, I reported that we'd seen the perfect house in Somerville. We'd procrastinated over visiting it because we love Back Bay's elegance and convenience (but not its big prices, tiny outdoor spaces, and noisy-neighbor situations). We're trying to keep an open mind about other neighborhoods that have their own benefits (

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-71831265494527598312011-11-21T21:46:00.000-05:002011-11-21T21:46:01.343-05:00

... but it's more than a month away. By then, the premature garlands on this Commonwealth Avenue townhouse will be just like poor old Marley in A Christmas Carol: "As dead as a doornail."  Maybe the budget for this building includes two rounds of decorating: one in November, plus a refresh closer to the actual holiday. Anything is possible when people have money to burn. Pretty. But

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-24799077903291225802011-11-20T11:29:00.006-05:002011-11-21T11:49:13.732-05:00

Lauren Bush and David Lauren. Photo: Bruce Weber. When Ralph Lifshitz and his brother Terry changed their last name to "Lauren" in the 1950s, they could never have dreamed of Ralph's future success as the premier American style-setter of the late 20th century. Even if they did imagine he'd be a smashing success in the fashion business, they could never have foreseen that their chosen surname

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-57993109130382993592011-11-18T23:47:00.023-05:002011-11-20T19:16:18.567-05:00

I'm back to blathering in my usual, tedious way: 1. Jury duty is our civil obligation. Among other responsibilities, we are obliged to be civil, no matter how difficult the trial or deliberations may become. Only judges are free to be stern, cranky, impatient, or whimsical. That's because judges are way cooler than everyone else — and not merely because they wear robes from Hogwarts and have

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8025180702390794309.post-22790629606786181052011-11-16T23:45:00.000-05:002011-11-16T23:45:38.481-05:00

I spent so much time talking, listening, and chewing over ideas during deliberations today that I am clean out of words. I have nothing to say. I am cherishing silence and the absence of concepts. I'm going to bed to recover. I will resume blathering in my usual, tedious way tomorrow, probably. Wait! I have a few words left after all: In my absence, Snalbert has claimed the new iPad.

A Proper Bostoniannoreply@blogger.com0