Lunch at the Ritz

I avoid the mother's day brouhaha of screaming kids, rushed service and mediocre food by celebrating on Saturday or in1sisting on non-traditional restaurants. Today, with a nor'easter pummelling Boston with rain, we took the train into town for lunch at the Ritz. We came out of the Arlington "T" stop to a cold miserable wind which immediately sent my rain hat cartwheeling down the street and turned my umbrella inside out. A gallant gentleman saved the hat and the umbrella joined the great May 7 umbrella graveyard that was downtown Boston.

The Ritz closed its dining room a while back but the cafe, which looks out onto Newberry St., suits me just fine. They made an excellent vodka gimlet (I awarded it 3 limes!) and Significant Other quaffed a Manhattan. The lobster salad was all one could wish and more, the rolls satisfied, and the creme brulee, all crisp and creamy tasted wonderful.

People watching ain't bad, either. There was the first communion party with the girls in white dresses making many giggly trips to the ladies room. The overdressed young lady with her swain also nibbled her lobster salad and passed the rest of it to him. Ye gods! It wasn't that much. The underdressed (jeans) table left their white wine (or was it water) undrunk. The waste! Next to us an elderly trio attacked the turkey club sandwiches which appeared to be a popular menu item. I watched a party of 8 women (40-ish), trying to figure out is this was an anti-mother's day group or if they were just old classmates having lunch. Hard to say. At one table, where most of the women carried flowers and were perhaps celebrating the couple who had taken them under their wing (I have a story for everyone in the room) a woman ordered the burger and fries while her friends picked at salad. The fries came in tall silver cups and looked yummy. On the way back to the train we had hat issues again, and every trash can was stuffed with broken umbrellas.

This week was a computer horror show. I am upgrading to a new machine and trying to get all my software and files ported onto it. Really very annoying and tiresome.

Letter to agent I met in NYC last week came back with a bad address. The world's best query was rejected a second time. Writing group started to pick apart the Reno/Burning Man scenes in the new book. They are right, of course, and I listen. So often they make me raise my writing to the next level which lazy me wouldn't do without a kick in the pants.

My garden soothes me. Only one (planted in too wet a spot) columbine failed to show up this spring. Everything else, even wild orchid, is present and accounted for. Worried about toad lily, and then I noticed three toad lilies had come up around where last year's bloomed. Violets blooming like crazy. We've eaten the chives and the sage already.

Another downer with my lovely Scottish Highland Cattle. Last weekend I noticed they had been separated, with Jewel and her (perhaps) mother in one pasture and the other three in another. More ominous yet, a trailer designed to hold an animal was parked in the narrow path where they walk to the barn, blocking the way. Sure enough, on Tuesday, two of the cows were gone. I think there are financial issues involved. The herd has dwindled from 7 to 3 now. Tomorrow is feeding day, and I'll find out for sure who is missing. When I show up, they all bleat and come runnning, which gives my trampled ego a little boost.

Usually I come back from the Edgars inspired and ready to write. This year I came home in a funk. Ah well, suck it up. Write anyhow. Write everyday. Write true. Yup.