A Career.
August 19th, 2005Last night Liz and I went jewelry shopping. Yes, it is a big step. But the necklace wasn’t for either of us. It was for her work-mom Carole as a you’re-going-to-another-part-of-the-hospital gift. Carole isn’t sick; she took another job. After scouring Quincy Market, we went back to the MFA to buy the pearl pendant necklace we had picked out the first time around.
After that we went to the Union Oyster House for, what else, drambouie. Oysters and chowder, too. Liz had ordered a shot of tequila, to mourn, but I confused the waitress and we both got drambouie. Then Liz and I confused ourselves, taking the waitress’s lead, and shot it like tequila despite its being served in snifters. To be fair, drambouie, being in the whiskey family, is usually served in large shot glasses.
We wandered around a bit more until we happened upon Kitty O’Shea’s, which was lucky. I didn’t know it at the time, but what I needed was a good corned beef and cabbage dinner. We were drawn in by the large number of large screens playing Scottish soccer. Verena called during dinner to check in from her particle party in Craigville and confirmed that Aberdeen versus the Rangers was a good game, indeed. Neither Liz nor I could definitively say which team was which and we waffled back and forth as dinner went on.
After dinner, it was time to go shopping for pants, which, to some, is just as serious as shopping for jewelry. But as before, they were a gift. Liz’s live-in boyfriend has one pair of functional pants. Consequently, he wears them to work daily. This, I am told, is disgusting. So, it was off to the GAP to hunt down a pair of 31 by 30 men’s slacks — which, mind you, is no easy task. Inspired by the bad suit coats there, I dragged Liz downstairs to the Banana Republic, where I tried on each of their suitcoats, some several times, and, again, thought that a job at D.E. Shaw might support my business casual habbits.
Since the stores were closing, and I didn’t want to read math, I asked Liz back to Cambridge for some ice cream, courtesy the Summer School, and beer, leftover weeks ago from Caitlin’s twenty-first. Because we were buzzed, and because deep-down inside we both might just be teachers, we decided to take the English and History MTEL practice exams. We scored a 90% on each, but we decided to call them 95% because we had convinced each other that the right answer was wrong even though he initial chose right. So that counts for half. And we wouldn’t teach under the influence. Promise.
Tonight is the high school reunion harbor cruise. I can only hope that it’s as fun as the MTEL.
