Short, incoherent, and badly written in order to spend as little time as possible on this keyboard.

On the night of my actual birthday, we had hot pot at 5-ee's. I helped Mark move out of Babson's dorms, we ate, and then we did a lot of dishes.

The next morning I took ridiculous amounts of bread from Russo's and turned the ballroom at Maker House into a picnic area. Greg, Ellen, and Nikki came out, followed by Kristen-on-bike with additional bread. DJ (with cheese!) and Sam turned up later; Mark stopped by to say hello and buy Gui's bike, and cheese was had by all. Some of it was from Beecher's in Pike Place, all the way from Seattle - the cheddar went in a flash. There was also balsamic vinegar over half my age, which appeared to be appreciated mainly by Ellen and myself (although others partook and enjoyed) and various spreads, my favorite one of which was the Thai pepper (paired with aforementioned fast-vanishing cheddar). Afterwards we went to the playground.

Dwinslow came up from NYC. When we found out that he had never had clam chowder of any kind, we made him eat some New England chowdah. That's right. Not that... red stuff they sell in Manhattan. This was today, Sunday, at the Mayfair in Harvard Yard, which I was utterly not expecting when David and I walked down there to check out the campus. Also unexpected was the arrival of A TON OF OLIN PEOPLE. The tiny groups walking about eventually glommed together into a Very Indecisive Amoeba composed mainly of myself, David, Chandra, Dean, Christie, Molly Mac, Will, Keoni, Kate M, Rob Quimby... supposedly a Debbie Chachra was in the area, but remained unspotted by the majority of the group.

Good times. Perfectly ordinary good times. No grandiose schemes, no high-powered parties, just a group of young friends hanging out in Boston and enjoying each other's company (and food). For a few blessed days, my life seemed... almost normal. I liked it - it's good to know that things can be that way sometimes.