Today was my last day at my job in Danbury, CT. I'd been there for almost four years. It was kind of sad, actually, to say goodbye to the friends I made there. But it's good to move on. When my sister moves in two weeks, my family will be completely out of inland Connecticut. Five years ago, I was in Danbury, my folks were in Ridgefield, and my sister and her kids were in New Milford. (See maps.google.com to figure out what I'm talking about). Now I'm in NYC and they're both in the New Haven Area. Goodbye I-84, hello I-95.

I celebrated my quitting by going to the Mercury Lounge to see Kristin Hersh's punk band, 50 Foot Wave (named before the tsunami, as was the band Tsunami.) I love her solo acoustic music, but it's also great to see her screaming and rocking out with a full band. I love when really good guitar players use their skill to make good music rather than show-off wankery.

I met a woman in her sixties at the show who was from Vancouver. She said she and her husband saw a preview of the show in the paper and decided to go. I told her that 50 Foot Wave was pretty heavy, and she said, "The heavier the better." Preach on, grandma!

When I got home I saw the Red Sox score. 7-0 us. Since holding an opponent scoreless is so rare these days, I immediately thought, No-hitter? Close. Good job by the large, white one. On June 1st, I said (in real life, not in writing) that I didn't think we'd lose much this month. I said that forgetting that interleague play was this month. So if you don't include the crazy pitcher-batting, double-switching, run-the-bases-backwards games, I could end up being right. The starters are looking good, with the exception of Bronson (lately), but I still feel good about him. I feel like we could go into a post-season series right now and be in good shape. And I'd say that even if we had an average lineup. But we have an amazing lineup, which is only getting better as Manny comes alive.

Well, as we sit in the sweltering heat, we can find solace in the fact that Jere is going to Femway Park tomorrow. Because whenever Jere goes to Fenway, regardless of the weather the day before or the day after, you can rest assured that you will need a sweater. Seriously, what the friggin' frig? It's 2 AM. It's about 200 degrees out here in New York City. It's been like this for days. It's been like December in hell. You walk down the street, even at night, and it feels like someone is casually breathing fire in your face. But, tomorrow, the forecast for Boston is 64 degrees for a high, with some rain. (I've also got tix for Saturday, which, therefore, is the second coldest day of the ten-day forecast.) Terrible job, Stay-At-Home-Mom Nature. Do I dare check the Cleveland forecast for when I'm there next week? Will I need to bring cross-country skis? I think I won't even check.