Monday, April 14, 2008

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Boston was fun. The red-eye out of Denver…not so much. In fact, do you know what is worse than not sleeping on an overnight flight? Sleeping on one. My neck developed such a crick in it; I couldn’t hold my head upright for our entire stay. On the plus side, I couldn’t help but notice the carpets in the Boston convention center are remarkably clean and stain-free. Nice job, Boston!

Also on the bright side, our business seminar was not nearly as challenging as I had feared it would be and I took some valuable insights away with me. Insights about the class material as well as insights about Boston proper. Things like, the fact that I actually like salt fries. Like, I really like salt fries. Salt water pickles on the other hand, no. Just, no.

One of our evening events was held at the Boston Science Museum and we got to watch a giant conductor create lightning inside the building. This, as exciting as it sounds wasn’t really. But, it did make for interesting conversation at the breakfast table the next morning.

Hugh: I didn’t really find the lightning show all that electrifying. Get it? Electrifying. Ha, ha.

Random Guy Sitting Next To Us: Well, of course you wouldn’t; look what you have to compare it against (pointing at me).

Chelle: Wow. I’m going home with him.

I didn’t, obviously. After all, he might not have indulged my wish to visit the bar from Cheers like my husband did. In a limousine, even. Plus, he bought me a tee-shirt. Living large, that's us.

Saturday afternoon, between our last class and the time we had to be back to the airport, Hugh and I walked to Boston Commons and took the walking Freedom Tour; we saw the home of Paul Revere, the USS Constitution, a slew of statues of our fore-fathers, some truly huge lobsters at the fish market near the piers and more cemeteries than you could shake a psychic at (I see dead people). It was a lot of fun and a good way to exhaust ourselves before getting on the flight back home.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my parents were doing a bang-up job of watching over our children, an especially challenging job given the fact that, while we were away, puberty hi-jacked The Girl.

Ugliness ensued.

Looks like we won’t need Paul Revere to tell us The Hormones are coming! The Hormones are coming!

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