Dave's Birthday

So Dave didn't want to celebrate his birthday either but I figured, hey the least we could do was catch dinner. I sometimes forget that I eat out almost every night. It always amazes me when someone says no to eating out, where's the downside?

We both wanted to exercise in the morning and Dave really wasn't looking forward to birthdaying. I went over around 2. We were headed to the MOMA Boston. I hadn't been to an art musuem since King Tut was born, so I was actually kind of excited, even thought I don't a thing about modern art.

We went up to the 4th floor.

Noted: other people were all dressed urban and arty and cool. Dave looked urban and cool. I looked like a refugee from 2nd grade in jeans, a t-shirt and a cardigan.

We then proceeded to view some art. A video with oil with sugar being poured over it. Terrible photographs. The leaning tower of Pisa as a charm on one story wooden necklace. Red light on the floor in an empty room. The same portrait 3 times with crumpled paper on the floor.

I felt giggly. It was my worst case modern art scenario.

It wasn't without bright spots - a hilarious video of a guy shooting stuff in grocery store with a bow and arrow. A suspended "fire" on strings, a beautiful mirrored hand blown glass display.

We walked out of the gallery discussing what made something art and who got to say what was art because it was mostly crap in a beautiful building.

Then, the next exhibit blew our mind. It was Tara Donovan, an artist exactly our age that worked in regular objects, styrofoam cups, toothpicks, pins, but most amazing, the wall of straws.

It was awesome. We surreptitiously photographed ourselves among her pieces with our iphones because photos weren't allowed. We happily bought the book on her stuff at the gift shop and then went over to that Boston icon, Pier 4. We sat at the bar and drank tiny individual bottles of champagne and ate stale ritz crackers with cheese spread.

Fortified, we returned to the car in what had turned into a wildly windy evening and dealth with a Mark airline rescheduling emergency. He was in Long Beach at NLP 13. I told him he was never going to make the 1pm flight because he was picking up parts with Shaugnessy. I was right and changed it for the second time that day.

We made our way over to the Moroccan place in Charlestown.

Noted: we were the only people in the place without a kid.

It was freezing in there and although I told them it was a special occasion, they didn't give us a cool table with two couches.
They were out of the first 5 kinds of wine we asked for, no lie.
They had no beef.
We were puzzled until we overheard this was the last night they would be open before renovations and suddenly it all made sense and they were forgiven.

We ate an amazing tuna appetizer and lamb with figs and drank red wine. We had a great time but felt ripped off because I had asked specifically about belly dancers. Maybe we were to early.

Dave then requested dessert at Friendly's because that's where his family always went to celebrate. After reflection, I did have to agree that a little food fanciness usually goes a long way. Hotel fanciness is an altogether different animal, never too much in my opinion.

Mark got home at 6am, I was awake all night long looking at the clock. I hate that.

I got up at 7 and met Jess at the gym.
Working out makes me feel so much better you would think I would be able to give it top priority.