And now I'm back, happily. Tired and dehydrated after what seemed an extremely long plane flight, one in which I finished the book (The Red Rose Crew, excellent!) I received this morning for my birthday. Boston was cold. Very cold, and I remembered that I like the cold, even as it froze my cheeks walking home through the North End in the late afternoon after several hours at the Aquarium (during which we saw baby penguins!)
In no particular order, Boston summed up: Castaway, the Nutcracker, champagne, burnt stuffed clams, scallops both broiled and fried, a huge glass of Maker's Mark on the rocks, sleeping until 11:30 three days in a row, chats with grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles, cold air and clear blue skies and howling winds, family time, and all of it, passing so fast, it now seems like it was just a dream.
Up next? Idaho and my birthday, in that order. But first, a day to just be home. To just be.