There are very few things people like reading less than travelogues of other people’s fantastic adventures. “Denise and I then ate Vienna Sausages with Johann the ski instructor. Oh, it was a trip!” The problem is other folks are all too quick to prompt returning travelers with, “So how was your trip?” It’s polite. But they secretly hope for the magical one word answer, “Good.”
I have some stories to share. If you care to hear them, you can read the rest of the post. If not, come back tomorrow for regularly scheduled shenanigans. I promise to sum up in brief:
After the storm Wednesday evening that threatened to leave me snow-bound, I managed to help the ‘rents with freeing the car so I could take a train into NYC and spend the night at my sister’s. The city is a dark, frightening universe to me, and after all of these storms I feel like there are dangers untold lurking behind dirty, white mountains. Outside of my sister’s apartment they didn’t pick up the garbage before the storm and now there are several black bags poking out of a foot of white. I woke up at 3:30a.m. thinking it was 7a.m. because it was so bright. And my family thinks I should move here.
So… anyway, then we rode into CT, met up with my sister’s friend Kim, drove to Hartford, spent almost an hour in the most HELLISH traffic on the East Coast, picked up another friend, and drove to Boston. We managed to get there just in time to grab a bite to eat and see the concert. The concert was fantastic (they opened with my favorite song July, July), except I spent part of it way back behind the soundboard and finally my sister prompted me to push forward to the front. I used my backpack as a shield to get a better view. This did not make other patrons like me better, but as I’ve been a fan of this band for 5 years and this has been the only music concert I’ve been to in years, I decided not to care. After I spent some money on an awesome Tee, we headed back to the über-posh hotel.
Highlights at the hotel: Leopard print robe, old map-covered cabinet, I think cheetah print or leopard print rug, curtains with the Declaration of Independence printed on them, and drunk rich people outside including a woman in a fur coat who face-planted into a giant pile of dirty snow *on purpose* to try to make a snow angel.
The next day we toured around Boston to find Boston Common. This confused the hell out of the GPS. “Mildred” as my sister & her roommate had named it, sounds like an angry British nanny and kept telling us to go around and around. “Turn right, then turn right, then turn left, then turn right, then turn right. … Recalculating.” Our driver, still Kim, would follow her instructions and then she might miss an almost invisible street or Mildred would not give clear instructions on which right because there would be two options??? Boston beats Atlanta in most confusing layout of a city. It destroyed the mind of our GPS and finally my sister turned it off, looked straight ahead and said, “Stay on this road, I see where we’re supposed to be.” We figure either the satellite couldn’t figure out which street we were on or because Mildred has a British voice, this was part of Boston’s ongoing hatred of the English.
Boston Common was pretty awesome and we had a lot of fun meeting up with another of my sister’s friends, eating some Chinese-Indian fusion cuisine, visiting some landmarks, going to LUSH, taking goofy pics, and drinking (Sam Adams across from Samuel Adams’ grave). I won’t go into a lot of detail, but below is my photo album.
There is one thing I have to share from the Boston Common trip. We were by the bronze ducks and a woman who was a bit older than middle-aged was also taking pictures of them. She was dressed to exercise (track suit, hat, backpack). Then she went several feet from us and began doing this weird walk. We thought she was doing Tai Chi Chuan at first, but then realized it was no martial art we had seen before. She was doing some sort of made up body… thing. I took a small video of it and uploaded it to YouTube. I apologize for sound & video quality. This is from my photo camera.
End of Boston trip: Sister & I came back to CT and stayed with Mom for a little while. It was good to see her and her friends Jim & Bobby. We didn’t do too much because I was kind of drained from the trip, but it was good to rest and hang out (and eat junk food which doesn’t happen a lot at Dad & Step-Mom’s house).
I didn’t post yesterday due to several personal issues. Suffice to say, hot chocolate repairs *most* ills. I don’t have the energy to do a creepy hit-that post, which I’m sure some people are grateful for.
This morning I was rustled out of bed, bleary-eyed and testy in order to shovel 15 inches of snow. After several complaints, being that this was some of the thickest snow we’ve seen and Dad was dead-set on doing it himself this time (he had paid people to shovel the last few times and it was starting to thin his pockets), my step-mom began rummaging through the garage. An ancient, cobweb-covered snowblower was produced. We had a snowblower? Seriously? This is the forth or fifth time we’ve had to deal with half a foot or more of snow and we had a snowblower? There’s a catch: This snowblower is older than I am. My parents do not throw anything away. They are from a time when American ingenuity meant that things were built, according to some sort of unspoken ethical law, to last. Once we got it going, it went, but it is taking some muscle power to run. It is better than shoveling, but probably not quicker. It’s like cutting your grass with one of those really old grass cutters that just rolls along, but knowing it’s better than using a scythe.
Another issue I had to complain about that happened yesterday (one of the reasons yesterday was just falling apart) was that my new netbook refuses to connect to the home wireless. It will acknowledge the wireless. It will connect to the ethernet. And like a filthy prostitute it will connect to any open wireless network in the area. If anyone can answer this query, let me know. I think I know the problem: I tried to set up a “home network” to just connect my computer and the netbook, but I made the mistake of letting both computers know that there was a third computer that was the network home (my Dad’s computer). When I decided the whole thing was a bad idea because it was going to require getting his computer involved, I dropped it, but now the netbook is like, “wait, weren’t we doing that thing? Hey, guys?” and now it doesn’t want to do Internet, it wants to network. Yay…. Here’s your pic for the day:
I’m not able to do a lot of interesting posts this week. I’m staying at my mom’s house and all of the good links are on my computer at home. So since I’m snowed in, I thought some people would like to know what it was like to live through a blizzard. I’m in a city close to the one in this YouTube video. You don’t have to watch *all* of it, but it accurately depicts the constant barrage of the blizzard:
The city I’m in got only about 8-10″, but the wind is what really made it bad. We couldn’t drive and now what’s here can be shoveled, but will be blown back down by tomorrow morning. We had to spend an hour shoveling my mom’s car out thanks to the city’s plow service. And thankfully we weren’t one of the thousands currently without power, though we were afraid of it because the trees outside have been rubbing up against each other very loudly.
Mom & I actually had a conversation about emergencies last night:
Her: “Pack your backpack with your meds and ID. That’s in case something happens and we have to leave.”
Me: “What? If something happens that bad or to the house, we die. We can’t get out. Your car sucks.”
Her: “No. If a tree falls through the house, we’ll need to leave in a hurry. Pack your backpack with your meds.”
Me: “I’ll just take my purse [messenger bag], it can carry my laptop and already has my ID.”
–Laptop = survival apparently when drunkenly arguing with your crazy mother
We survived. All is well. Today I drank Merlot and watched “Up”.
Trivia for today: How many toes do cats have?