She Who Must Be Obeyed and I arrived here late Thursday night, after an uneventful flight in a widebody jet. Uneventful, of course, is a relative term, especially if you are a Nervous Flyer like SWMBO.
"Those are the flaps being retracted, Sweetie. Not to worry."
"Those are the airbrakes, hon. Relax."
"What was that noise?"
"Why are those masks dropping from the ceiling?"
"That's just the oxygen, honey. We're ALL GONNA DIE WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE YAGGGGHHHHHHH"
Just kidding about that last one.
I ride the Great Silver Aerial Bus almost every week, and so I don't notice all those little jolts, bumps, and strange noises. But for SWMBO, the Unpleasant Experience o' Flying provides an excuse to enjoy an Adult Beverage or two.
But we made it. A quick cab ride got us to our guest house in Cambridge, and Elder Daughter ran right over to see us.
We had a pleasant day yesterday, having had a chance to sleep in (no cats to walk upon our faces) and take a leisurely breakfast. Elder Daughter had to work, so we traipsed over to Harvard Square and hung out after taking coffee at Darwin's.
At mid-day, we accompanied Elder Daughter as she took care of one of her Odd Jobs - dogsitting for a Well-Known Radio Personality. Generally, this involves trying to take the dog - an elderly Bichon Frisee or some such beast - for a walk, then giving up in frustration as the ill-tempered cur refuses to allow himself to be saddled. (Or leashed). Today, Elder Daughter's task was to clean up the Random Piles o' Shit and Puddles o' Piss that Mr. Dog had left in his impatience. This is not, alas, a rare event, leading me to suspect the Mr. Dog will soon have a date with Mr. Needle o' Nepenthe.
The visit with Mr. Dog was interesting to us because the Well-Known Radio Personality has such interesting mementoes on her shelves. A fistful of Emmy awards. A Peabody award. Photographs featuring dignitaries of various stripes, including at least one former President. Yeef.
Some time later, after a visit to Chez Elder Daughter d'Elisson, we headed off to Watertown for the Great New England Blogmeet.
Well, I exaggerate a wee bit. What we did was meet up with Charlie, the guy who writes Where The Hell Was I?, one of my favorite Funny-Ass Blogs.
Charlie is an affable guy, very much what you'd expect from reading his blog. Tall, he is, and apparently immune to cold. We walked around in weather that was somewhere between "bracing" and "seriously nipple-stiffening," with us in heavy coats and him in a rugby shirt, but it never seemed to bother him. He got to meet me, SWMBO, Elder Daughter, ED's boyfriend Kody - an Extreme Dose o' Elisson, no doubt - but seemed to deal with the shock well enough. We enjoyed trading Bloggy War Stories 'n' all dat, over a superb Persian dinner. Charlie will probably need several weeks to recover from the
Shirin Polo...it's what's for dinner. And I really dug the doogh. Picture a beverage that looks like milk, in a tall glass with ice, and a completely unexpected, savory-minty flavor and you'll have some idea of doogh. Not your typical glass of Sweet Iced Tea.
It's Saturday morning now, and She Who Must Be Obeyed, Elder Daughter, and Kody await my presence for the day's activities. We are off to the bowels of Harvard, the Hated Enemy Camp. Leave it to me to schedule a visit for Parent's Weekend.
Laters, Esteemed Readers. Now go over and visit Charlie and tell 'im Elisson sent ya.