A Good Day

A good day is any day that you're alive - Paul Westerberg

Saturday was a very fine day to be alive and walking in Boston. After my cousin checked into Jury's we had a beer downstairs in Cuffs and watched the Sox unload on the Yanks. Then we stepped out into the sun and took a long meandering walk across Boston, from the Back Bay to the North End, girl watching and window shopping. The ballgame followed us - here a man parked in an alley hard by Commonwealth Books listening to Jerry and Joe on the radio, there a scrap of voices and the score drifting out from a bar.

We stopped at Fanueil Hall and watched a group putting on a display of Capoeira, which I'd never seen before and found completely fascinating. Dance and fighting blended together - a spinning handstand flowed into what looked like a leg sweep, another spinning motion turned into a round house kick - and all done to music. We also spotted someone sporting this tee. Jim loved it, but if he's not careful his three boys will all get one for Christmas.

By the time the ninth inning rolled around we were in the North End and watched Papelbon close out the game at some bar I think was called the Four Winds, before moving on to another bar (called The Waterfront I think) for more beer. The night finished up at Bukowskis - my favorite bar that is attached to a parking garage and perched above the turnpike.