Dec. 14th, 2005 09:06 am
Home on the North Shore
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It's not many days I wish I lived in E-ton--a "progressive" little burg which is heavily segregated and sees no problem with using eminent domain to seize land for condos; a college town that was dry until a few years ago; a sleepy community with a church on almost every block and transit connexions that become excruciating after 8 p.m. But this was one of them.
I crashed at a friend's last night after watching movies (shuttling between the old and old-new versions of King Kong and then seeing the tail end of the mawkish and horribly dated Making Love) and left the house with enough time to walk the couple miles to work. I took a route up such stately avenues as Hinman and Judson, past absolutely palatial clapboard manors. There was no traffic to speak of, only the occasional parent escorting wee ones to the local Montessori school. It was beautifully still.
It took me a little longer to make it in than I'd expected, so I had to give the lakeside park a miss and follow noisy, busy Sheridan for the last stretch. Even so, it beat the pants off the comfortable half-hour stroll I used to have to and from my old job when I lived in Indian Village. Only my occasional detour through hoity-toity South Kenwood could begin to compare.
I crashed at a friend's last night after watching movies (shuttling between the old and old-new versions of King Kong and then seeing the tail end of the mawkish and horribly dated Making Love) and left the house with enough time to walk the couple miles to work. I took a route up such stately avenues as Hinman and Judson, past absolutely palatial clapboard manors. There was no traffic to speak of, only the occasional parent escorting wee ones to the local Montessori school. It was beautifully still.
It took me a little longer to make it in than I'd expected, so I had to give the lakeside park a miss and follow noisy, busy Sheridan for the last stretch. Even so, it beat the pants off the comfortable half-hour stroll I used to have to and from my old job when I lived in Indian Village. Only my occasional detour through hoity-toity South Kenwood could begin to compare.
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