(Sorry about the Flash, iPhone folks).
I can honestly say that Chicago's Midway is one of my favorite airports. But at 5:20 a.m., no airport, or really any other building in which one is awake, is a great place to be. Why did I have to leave Chicago at 6:30 to get to Boston at noon? And why was I even going to Boston when my target destination was New York City? Because I wanted to fly for free, and my 16th SWA flight credit was earned just two weeks before I left for my east coast jaunt. Eligible flights were still available to Boston, where I had friends i could visit, but in order to get there and still have time to spend with them, I'd have to take the route that involved changing planes in Baltimore. The Baltimore airport is also quite lovely, so I thought "why not? What better place to sit on my ass for two hours?" and booked the flight. Then I'd take a $15 bus ride to New York the next morning, arriving 90 minutes or so before my big meeting.
Sometimes it's gratifying to do something unusual. This was one of those times. My trip to Boston afforded me a mini-tour of Cambridge, which is lovely but smells a bit like poop (insert Harvard joke here). I got to have a lobster melt at a diner with three good friends (Nora, Gabe, and Hilary).
Really, the theme of my day (okay, half-day) in Boston was Family & Coincidence. While walking down the streets of Cambridge, we ran right into Nora's brother. Weird! And best of all, with no knowledge of my visit, Hilary's mom (Gabe's mother-in-law) planned a big turkey dinner at their house in Framingham. So I got to see Hilary's family (who I know from her wedding to Gabe last summer), have a Thanksgiving-worthy meal, and even cap the night off with a reprise of last summer's family folk-music sing-a-long, which might sound awful but is actually fantastic.
Hilary's mom played her banjo, Grandma was on accordion (and later piano), Gabe played ukelele and guitar, and Grandpa, Hilary, and I just sang along or threw in some percussion. I could not have planned a more pleasant Massachusetts evening. The morning, however, could have been better: I would have to get up at 4:45 to catch a 6:30 bus to New York...
This Monday, I returned from a week-long excursion to CIties of Eastern America, namely Boston, New York, and D.C. My trip through Boston was short but high-density, an included an impromptu Thanksgivingesque feast in Framingham. My 4 (!) days in NYC added up to almost 3 days longer than I'd ever been to the city, and included a musical revue of songs written by a friend I've known since 6th grade, lots of visiting with some friends I haven't seen in years and years (1 from high school, 1 from college) and a top-secret meeting with the publishers of a forthcoming Sweet Valley High followup for grown women like myself. This meeting was my real reason for heading to the Big Apple, and I'm excited to share more about it on Sweet Valley Diaries.
Wasn't this enough travel for one week? Why even bother with DC? Well, I couldn't very well miss my best friend's wedding! Technically in Frederick, MD (or maybe Thurmont?), this was a really cool outdoor wedding with tons of rustic-chic touches. And sure, the lavender wedding rice cones I spent hours making from paper and ribbon were ignored by virtually all the guests, but they looked cool and smelled awesome. I got to see typically unemotional people cry tears of sweet joy and sentiment. And I got to hang out with history's happiest, cutest baby.
I'm going to share some more photos and observations about the trip in the coming days. Enjoy! I did. A lot.
Anybody with enough smarts to follow Saved by the Bell should understand why drilling is not an undertaking to enter into lightly, why strict regulations are necessary (no filibusters, jerkwads!) and why oil dependency is for tools. It was true in 1991, and for God's sake, it's true now.
ook! A new Daily Drop Cap! I couldn't resist using this one since it has my blog colors in it. Of course, having a drop cap doesn't make much sense unless I extend this paragraph so that the letters and words pile up to the left of the letter. What would be really great would be if the paragraph got so long that the words started to wrap to the underside of the pretty letter. But that might depend on the size at which you're viewing this text. Let's move on then, shall we?
In this post, I'd like to add to the above pretty thing by showing pictures of a few other pretty things that sum up my past few weeks:
Thanks to Mary, I am now officially obsessed with The Mighty Boosh. I'm not super proud of this fact, but Mary is. Today, I posted a review of Get Him to the Greek on Cineplexus. In honor of these two facts, let's enjoy a picture of Russell Brand and Noel Fielding in a tender embrace.
If that's not pretty, I don't know what is.
Pretty boy! Maybe that's what Slater's calling Zack in this still from Saved by the Bell, which I used in my Sweet Valley Diaries post about how often the guys on Sweet Valley covers look like Tom Cruise. Sounds interesting, right? You'll have to read it to figure out how this image fits in.
OMG guess what this is???? It's a still from my showchoir documentary, which, yes, still exists, and is in fact closer than ever to being finished. Aiming for the fall. Isn't it lovely?
Let's close up with some more traditionally pretty things...Finally, here are some pictures from my trip to New Mexico. I was actually born there, and my parents are both from there, so it's not an unusual place for me to visit. That said, this was kind of an unusual trip, as it was in the Spring, just for fun, and involved a trip to my cousin's boyfriend's goat ranch in the high desert. It was truly lovely.
Okay, this is apropos of nothing, and I should be writing about my trip to New Mexico or the gross coffee drink I just consumed. But I just came across a paragraph I wrote when I was in Italy (Rome, specificamente) and I am so impressed with 21-year-old me that I have to post it. I'll even throw in a bonus picture of St. Francis of Assisi's tomb church, where he is buried, robed in thick, thick fog.
In Rome, St. Peter is supposedly the focus of attention. Peter, the rock on which the Christian church would be founded, had a devotion to Jesus so strong that he could never seem to find the words to express it, but even he denied knowing Jesus after Jesus was arrested and taken to Pilate. Here, in the capital of Christendom, is it possible that the same thing occurred? Were the popes of Rome’s past guilty, too, of denying Jesus? – not through their words, certainly, but perhaps through their actions. This thought never occurred to me as such until Saturday, when a combination of two things happened: I visited Assisi, and I read Lorenzo Valla’s thoughts on the donation of Constantine.
Upon reading this, I had two thoughts simulataneously. (1) "Did I write that?" (2) "I read Lorenzo Valla's thoughts on the donation of Constantine?"
I have a feeling he thought they were bad news. Constantine was not history's most forthright guy. At least I remember that. Any way, here's your picture!