James Whitcomb Riley Memorial
Crown Hill Cemetery, Indianapolis, Indiana
Mystery solved: I was in Indianapolis for the past four days visiting my darling friends Scott and Jay. To say that I adore these adorable boys is a grand understatement. To say that they are hospitable and generous and fabulous in all regards is a grand understatement. To spend time in their company is just grand. Everyone should be so lucky to not only have friends like these but to have these boys as friends. If you ever have the opportunity to meet them, grab it.
We laughed like idiots and ate like pigs. Snuggled with Lucy (seriously the most adorable beagle ever) and Figbash (the largest, fluffiest black cat in existence) and were privileged to have Oliver (a yellow tabby who looks even better in a monocle than Mr. Peanut) endure us. Went here, there, and everywhere.
Although I did take a few photos, most of them came out like crap because I still have not mastered the intricacies of a point-and-shoot and thus they are not worth “sharing”. Plus, I’m really not one of these people who likes to preserve every blink, hiccup, and arm-flailing of her life in snapshots. I’d rather be actually doing the stuff I’m doing and not taking pixtures of it. However, I’m not a total aguafiestas, so I will go through them in the next few days and delight you with the tofu sour cream of the crop.
The boys told me they’d worried that I wouldn’t like Indianapolis. That I, a city girl to rival Marlo Thomas, Mary Tyler Moore, and Grace Adler, would be bored to Empire State Building-scented tears in their relatively small city. They couldn’t have been more wrong if they’d paid themselves to be. Indeed, I was even quite envious of a lot their city had to offer, including ridiculously friendly people, wide open skies, some of the most charming and gorgeous houses I’ve ever seen, and scads of independent coffee shops and bauble boutiques and dog-friendliness. Add to this a lack of pressure, a feeling of repose, and very little pretension, and I actually found myself having what is commonly known as a blast.
I will continue the written adoration tomorrow and will include a bit of photographic evidence of my Midwest meandering. Stay tuned.
0 thoughts on “I endorse Indianapolis”
I am not a vegan. I am not a vegetarian. Truth be told, I prefer both my entrees and my tubers to at least have had eyes at some point.
But I swear by all that is Jodi, if I get to New York, I WILL let you take me out for some thai and tofu.
I owe you to at least try what you so often describe akin to an orgasm in your mouth…
“just looked fat no matter how hard it sucked in its cheeks or how many different ways it looked into the camera or how many different dresses it tried on. I didn’t have time for their childish and neurotic shenanigans.”
I can’t breathe. I. can NOT. breathe.
Other than the red, I had no idea how much I had in common with it.