Posts Tagged ‘The President’

Thirty-six hours in Boston

I couldn’t blog about it earlier, but I spent the weekend in Boston. Although that isn’t entirely accurate because it is hard to spend a weekend in Boston when I live in California.

I took a redeye flight on Friday night. It was supposed to leave at 10:30 pm, but didn’t leave until after midnight. So I didn’t land until 9 am, which is the time I told my high school friend I would meet her for coffee.

It was freaking cold when I landed, and I was half an hour late, but I managed to get to Mike’s Pastries. I hate to admit it, but Facebook makes it possible to call up someone I haven’t seen in over a decade and say, Hey, I’m gonna be in town for 36 hours. Wanna meet for coffee?

It was great catching up. So many things have happened over the years to get us to where we are.

We talked for a couple hours, then my mom arrived and was double parked. I picked up the cake my brother had ordered and said my goodbyes.

My mom and I went to CraftBoston and saw a lot of really great work. It was great to have a chance to spend some time with her since I won’t get to see her at Christmas.

I do feel bad that I passed out in the car on the way to New Hampshire to pick up Motorcycle Man. Hard to stay awake after taking a redeye.

We then went down to Brother K and The President’s house for The President’s 30th birthday. I am surprised that it was actually a surprise. I thought that Sparkles may have ruined it when we were at our Cousin’s 40th surprise party two weeks earlier. Luckily, the jug o’ wine from Olive Garden had clouded The President’s memory.

My apologies to The President for not keeping up with drinking. I know that is my duty as resident Asshole, but I just can’t live up to the expectations. ‘Tis the problem with getting older.

Sunday I slept in just a little, that is until MiniMe woke me. Hung out with the fam for a little bit, then my cousin dropped me off at Logan.

And that was where I was, a week ago, as I wrote this post while sipping a winter solstice ale—deep red in color, malty and generously hopped—at the Boston Beer Works. So it is only fitting that today, on the actual winter solstice, I find this post half written. No, it wasn’t the beer that made me forget to finish it, it was because the WordPress iPhone app had crashed, lost half of what I had written, thus pissing me off.

This was the last of my travels for the year.

Happy Birthday, President Sister-in-Law

Cousin C’s Surprise 40th Birthday Party

The whole reason for going to New England for Thanksgiving was for this party. How could I miss an opportunity to get together with iDad’s side of the family? It was well worth the trip.

These aren’t my best photos, but there are a lot of them. You can find the full set on My Gallery, but here are the teasers.

Cousin C was surprised—mostly that his boys could keep a secret this big!

There was a good bit of dancing done by all. I have the blisters to prove it!

In addition to dancing, there might have been some drinking and some goofing around. Especially by my siblings and myself. If you get to the end of the full album, you can find the photos where Sister-In-Law T tried to convince me that I could lick my elbow or touch my elbows behind my back. I’m still convinced I can do it.

Just one word says it all. “Gov-nah!”

And apologies to Aunt K who wanted to stay up and party into the wee hours of the morning. As I explained, most of my adventures happen before midnight. Otherwise I turn into a pumpkin. ;-)

Because that wasn’t enough

Sister-in-law T finally has a new name. Bat Woman. We were just watching He’s Just Not That Into You when I saw a bat flying in the stairwell. Bat Woman took the tennis racket and went after it. I got plastic bags, opened the front door, and held the cat. It was tough because one swing took it down, but then it was moving under the racket. Bat Woman figured out how to get it in the bag and threw it on the front lawn. We watched safely from behind the glass as the bat wiggled its way out of the bag, fluttered around dazed and confused, and eventually flew off into the night.

Hopefully not back into the house.

I have a lot of respect for Bat Woman.

I was a pansy.

The saga continues

There was no way I was going to make my San Jose flight from JFK, so I was moved to a flight tomorrow.

I picked up my bag from baggage claim and looked for cheap hotels, but I’m an amazing cheapskate and I refuse to stay in less than a three star hotel after tenting, so I’m taking the train to my sister-in-law’s house.

I bought a Charlie Ticket and put on enough cash to get to and from South Station. When I tried to use the ticket, the bus driver grabbed it when it came back out. Seems that my card couldn’t be read. But he looked it over and let me on anyways. So now I had an extra two dollars on the card.

I got to South Station and it took half an hour to figure out the system. First I realized I didn’t actually want Amtrak. Then I figured out which train I needed. Then when I tried to buy a ticket, I had to cancel and go find the zone. I tried to buy the ticket again an realized I needed to know how much a ticket costs, so I cancelled it again. Finally, I added the appropriate amount to my Charlie Ticket

I went in search of food. It was after 6 pm and I’d had an English muffin, a peach, a bottle of water, and an iced vanilla latte. So I was shaking like mad and my ears are ringing so much it is hard to hear.

My choices included McDonalds, Chinese, pizza, or fresh sandwiches/salads. I really wanted pizza. Or a cheeseburger. I’d been saving myself up to eat at the JetBlue terminal at JFK. So I was starving and having a har time caring about my diet.

Guilt finally won out and I got a 408 calorie sandwich, carrots instead of chips, and a mojito lemonade.

As I was eating, I got a phone call from the vets holding Pablo hostage. Seems the bank declined their request for a couple grand while I’m in Boston. And they don’t take American Express. So I begged and asked if I can bring a check from my other secret off-shore account tomorrow. No, I don’t have a card for it. Money just magically appears in it when I wave my wand. And my checks for it have a wicked old address, but please, let me pay tomorrow and release Pablo today. He needs to go home.

They called back and the connection was so bad, I had to hang up on him. I called back. Little do they know about my sand wedge hostage situation that I am negotiating at the same time.

The vet had agreed to let me pay Tuesday for a hamburger today.

Pablo is going home. I’m not.

As I was walking down the track, carrying a half eaten sandwich and negotiating the release of my cat, the conductor smiled at me. After hanging up the phone, I went back to him and asked if I had the right amount on my ticket.

I had the wrong ticket.

I asked if I should go back and get the right one. He said to get on an I could buy one on the train.

So I did. And he charged me for zone 8 when I only need zone 4.

I’m too tired to argue.

Photos from Frankie’s Memorial Service

I felt a little awkward taking photos at a memorial service, but there were so many memories there. So hopefully, I will be forgiven for that—and for not using a flash, which produced a bunch of blurry photos.

I’ve attached a few below, but you can find all of them in My Gallery








Tents are popped

Brother K, Sister-in-law T, Ducky and Kanga have their 8 person tent. It has two rooms and a screened room.

They brought me my own four person tent. Brother K said I could bring home boys. Um, I can't figure out how to bring home boys to my condo, let alone a tent and a single sleeping bag. But thanks for thinking of me. :-)

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