The family medical emergency has gotten a bit better, at least so far. It looks like the worst part may be over, and that Kelly and I will not have to make any sudden trips anywhere. At least so far.
So everyone that sent their kind words and prayers – thank you, very much.
-Geoff
We’re in the middle of a family medical emergency at the moment.
We’re in the middle of a lot of phone calls back and forth. In the middle of it all Geoff’s cell phone has decided that the speaker will no longer work. So, it will accept text messages and send them and it will work with bluetooth devices. We can use it to make calls from the car, which is bluetooth enabled, and he’s currently looking for his bluetooth headset.
If you need to get in touch with us, specifically him, PLEASE call the house or my phone. Email is also good as we’re both hooked up to the internet 24/7 right now and will be for the foreseeable future. Comments here will also be answered in all haste.
Thanks, everyone,
~Kelly
A guy that Kelly and I know from church has a friend who owns a charter fishing boat. I had been thinking that I would much rather do some deep-sea fishing for my bachelor party event than the usual debauchery of some combination of gambling and strippers. That is just not my thing, and so I thought getting out on the water (in November, no less) might be more adventurous and yet less likely to get any of us in trouble with family and/or the law. So I finally had a chance to talk to the captain in question, and he has a magnificent new (2009) 37 foot boat that can handle up to six people fishing at the same time. Feel free to check out his website and see what you think. I am thinking that for the time of year (and the captain agrees with me) that our best bet would be cod and/or haddock, but at that time of year tuna are also in season. So it would sort of depend. Anyway, if we do this it will be on Thursday, November 10 (that’s the Marine Corps birthday for any jarheads out there) so we will have plenty of time to recover before the rehearsal dinner Friday.
-Geoff
The “she” referenced above? That would be me. About a week and a half ago, maybe two weeks, I noticed that I was getting these odd floaters in the vision in my left eye. Every so often a random black shape would pass through the vision, usually in the center, of my left eye. I thought it odd, but usually I’d shake my head and it would pass.
I’m popping in from headache land to post some more Sox photos from the game on Sunday.
Paps makes his entrance from the bullpen. Gotta love the music.
I like Papelbon, can you tell? The two Sox shirts I have are Big Papi and Papelbon.
Ok, there’s work to be done. More later.
~Kelly
Geoff here – I actually had the chance to go to not one but two Red Sox games this weekend, thanks to the kindness of my cousin John and my Aunt Donna. Friday night I went to a game with John, his brother-in-law and his nephew. We had a pretty good time, despite the fact that we kept thinking it was going to rain on us. Thankfully it never did and the game was REALLY good. In case you hadn’t heard, the Sox stomped the Orioles and almost got into a hell of a brawl. Then Sunday afternoon Kelly and I got to go together with the tickets Aunt Donna had sent us as a gift. Kelly brought her camera and she took a lot of pictures.
We got more pictures than that, so I will see if I can find some more good ones to put up.
One of my funniest memories from back when I first went to Alabama and met Geoff was when we went to his regular Monday night group, lovingly called the “Terrorist Knitters”, and I met a bunch of his friends for the first time. One of them was Bruce. Bruce was Geoff’s mechanic and Bruce’s wife, Sarah, was an avid knitter and a member of the knitting group. Bruce and Sarah arrived a bit later in the evening and when Geoff introduced me to Bruce and told him that I was from Boston, Bruce’s face absolutely lit up and he exclaimed, “Boston! Say something!”
Bruce was under the impression that I was a native Bostonian and that I had a Boston accent. I had to apologize and explain to him that while I had lived in Boston for a long time I did not, and still do not, actually have an accent. He was very disappointed.
I was reminded of this memory this evening when I got home from a Red Sox game and happened upon this article on Boston.com. If there is one place that you’ll hear varieties on what we lovingly call “Masshole-ish” or “Masshole-ese” it’s Fenway. Geoff and I were theorizing on our way home that the yellow shirted vendors, who all speak with a Boston accent of one variety or another, are actually trained that way. We suspect that if you’re walking around Fenway selling “ice cold beer” you’ll sell far less than if you’re selling “ice cold beah.”
Anyway, pictures from Fenway will follow. Today was the end of a four game series against the Orioles and the Sox swept the series. Though today the score was 8-6 as opposed to the spankings administered earlier in the series. We were concerned that the Orioles might actually leave town with a little self esteem as a result. I think Papelbon took care of that when he closed out the 9th inning.
More later, with pictures.
~Kelly
I’ve always considered myself more of an Animal Person rather than a Cat Person or Dog Person. Those terms always felt too exclusionary too me. So I found this little thing interesting when it came through my feed today and I thought I’d share it with all of you. Where do you fall?
Of course it doesn’t mention anything about small mammals. Or snakes. Do they count as “Exotics?” I wonder where my work at the museum with raptors and alligators puts me? Hmmmmm…..
~Kelly
Geoff here- last night was a VERY long police detail for me. I arrived at the police station at around 6:20 PM yesterday and arrived home this morning around 1:40 AM. In between was a virtually non-stop flood of cars and people. Everyone had a good time, and I even saw a few people I knew. But I am still wondering how so many people manage to get into such a relatively small space. I am just not that big a fan of crowds, I guess. There must have been half a million people all together. Still, it was not too bad, relatively speaking, as at least we did not have a lot of violence or troublemakers to worry about. There was some of that, but none anywhere near where I was, which was on Mass Ave., along the main route (at least in Cambridge) to and from the Mass Ave bridge and thus prime fireworks viewing area. I was with two regular Cambridge officers, but even with three of us we really had our hands full. So many people were not paying attention – drivers AND pedestrians. It really is a miracle no one was hurt.
I don’t get the people who have lived here for a good while and still haven’t figured out that the night of July 4th is a bad time to be anywhere near that part of the Charles River in your car. I mean, you expect tourists to not know, but people who have been around should know better. I could not believe how many people I had to tell “no, you CANNOT go on the bridge – it is blocked to all vehicle traffic”… and they wanted to argue about it. I don’t make the rules, I just have to enforce them. And how exactly do you expect to get on the bridge, even if I let you? You going to navigate through a crowd of several hundred thousand people, with lawn chairs and beach blankets, watching the show?
Still, the fireworks show was pretty spectacular. I could not hear any of the music from where I was, which is just as well because you just know they would play that Lee Greenwood song that I hate.
Anyway, back to the routine, which these days has been job hunting and house cleaning.
They’re invading and there is nothing we can do to stop them. No proactive measures, no way to seal the entrances, nothing. And you know what? There are some people who think that their presence here is actually a good thing.
No, I’m not talking about cockroaches, though I might as well be. I’m talking about tourists.
Today is the other day of the year when our fair city swells with the ranks of Townies, Suburbanites, and those dreaded infiltrators, Tourists.
When I worked in retail on Beacon Hill I used to have to work on the 4th of July. It was absolute hell. I worked in an antique store and that day we got hordes of two types of people, thieves and tourists. The thieves were there for only one purpose, to steal from us or from the tourists. The tourists were there largely to gawk or to ask us dumb questions. The #1 top question was, “Do you have any silver by Paul Revere?”
For those of you not in the know, Paul Revere was a silversmith but not a prolific one by any means. On the rare occasion that one of his pieces is unearthed in a private collection somewhere it is usually sold at auction and goes for big money. The last time I remember a piece being sold it was auctioned off by a church and the proceeds were used to refinance the rehabbing of the entire sanctuary. So, no, the tiny little shop I worked for did not and would never have a piece of silver by the most famous and one of the least prolific silversmiths in US History.
Charles St., where I used to work, leads directly to the Hatch Shell where the Pops play and the fireworks take place. People who are really insane devoted actually camp out overnight so they can get a space on the Esplanade in front of the Hatch Shell the morning of the 4th and they sit there ALL DAY waiting for the festivities to begin. That meant that at the end of the day on the 3rd and during the day on the 4th we’d be flooded on Charles St. with drunks, revelers, and all sorts of folks looking to make a dime off the tourists who’d flock to Boston for a “genuine American 4th of July experience.”
July 5th in Boston, and on the other side of the river in Cambridge, looks a bit like Time’s Square on January 1st each year. Trash is strewn everywhere, food, bottles, and, of course, the results of people who drank too much and couldn’t, ahem, make it to a bathroom. It is mayhem. Most locals head out of the town for the 4th. Or, they do what I do, stay inside and batten down the hatches.
Wherever you are, I hope you have a Happy 4th. I’ll be at home in air conditioned comfort away from the tourist invasion and waiting for Geoff to come home from his patrol. Think of him as you watch the fireworks, he’ll be out herding cats tourists.
~Kelly
