Time for an update. On Sunday, Marion, Yan, and I trucked down to the Tweeter Center to see the Backstreet Boys on the Never Gone tour. As I’ve been telling people who’ve asked, I felt either too old or not old enough. Due to the weather, they closed the lawn and pushed everyone underneath the canopy. It was difficult, but I manage not to graze arms with the fourteen year old girls to my side. My neck and back were slightly strained as a result but are better now.

The crowd cheered, loudly, at unpredictable moments. Two patterns did emerge, however. Each time AJ sang, the crowd screamed, perhaps to continuously congratulate his laying off the coke for the past three and a half years. They acted similarly whenever Nick sang, perhaps because he was drunk. For being twenty-five he looks old. Also, he had accumulated enough sweat to warrant what the kids on the street call “swass” by the end of the first song. Oh, Nick, for shame.

Being with Marion and Yan at a Backstreet Boys concert was surreal. Even the car ride down was something of a trip. These are the sorts who, upon learning that Brian and Kevin were to be married (not to each other), they were excused from class to the library to cry. (This is anecdotal Yan, not Marion, though her dedication is equally complete.)

I spent Monday recovering at Paul’s, playing with his daughter Grace and chatting with Ellen. John Ardry and I headed over for lunch and stayed through dinner. I usually take Rte. 1. As Paul usually takes 93, I tried my hand at it, too. Neither John nor I knew the way, and as Paul had conveniently washed his cell phone with the laundry earlier that day, we had no real way of asking for directions. An hour later, we found the place.

The eats were good. Nothing less should be expected. Paul and Ellen pride themselves on their food. Well, perhaps that isn’t so. I pride them on their food. And I’m very appreciative for their hospitality. I left with a plate of meat and a bag of baked goods. Remind me to divie them up with John. [I left everything in my car last night in order to get to seminar less late; I was really late nonetheless. Sorry, Ian.]

Meanwhile, Sunday, before the concert, Verena was back in Cambridge after her European tour just in time to go on a particle physcists’ from the Northeast retreat on the Cape. She just called after day two. I’m glad I’m applying to math graduate school and not physics. We don’t program too much, so at least we won’t have to compete based on that.

I would like to go to the Cape, though. Instead I’m heading over to Jamaica Plain with Michelle. Maybe I’ll hijack her to Eastham afterward.