We loved having John home over the weekend. He took the train home on Friday night after work and I drove him back yesterday afternoon. We had great weather and a great weekend.
While loading up the car to take John back to Boston, Brad passed the proverbial
torch, aka his Weber grill, to John. (We got a gas grill last summer.) John's an excellent griller. Now when you're in Boston, you know where to go for barbeque!
John is working for the Tufts Conference Bureau again this summer. He's living in this dorm on campus, in what is by college standards a huge suite of rooms all to himself. If you're going to be in Boston this summer, John can not only grill for you, but he can house you too! (Haha, and you're welcome John.) Change of subject . . . . you know how they say that where there's smoke there's fire . . . . well, as we drove into Boston there was a terrible haze in the air. We couldn't figure it out - was it smog? pollen? fire? It was disgusting, you couldn't see very far, it was
everywhere, and it smelled. Quite a mystery. So when I got home I looked it up online and it turns out it's there
were forest fires in Canada that sent haze down into New England (although none got as far south as Connecticut). Who knew?
Above and below is Mary playing volleyball at an all-day volleyball shindig on Sunday, the day of Woodbury's Memorial Day parade. (Which is to Woodbury what the Shorewood 4th of July parade is to Shorewood, i.e., a really fun small town parade.) Mary had a great day and she said that she was
smokin' hot on the volleyball court (okay, she didn't say that, I did). But I really was
incensed that no one would go to the parade with me. Mary's excuse: a full day of outdoor physical activity. John's doozy: one of Tufts' sports teams was on national TV for perhaps the first time ever to try to win Tufts' first team national title in any sport ever (which they won - in mens' lacrosse). The game just so happened to be smack dab during the middle of the parade. Brad, of course, didn't want to leave John alone. Peter, as you might have guessed, came up with the unimaginative "I'm across an ocean" excuse. So to my family, I'm giving you plenty of advance notice: I'm
fired up for my Mother's Day present next year . . . . it's spelled P-A-R-A-D-E.
While loading up the car to take John back to Boston, Brad passed the proverbial torch, aka his Weber grill, to John. (We got a gas grill last summer.) John's an excellent griller. Now when you're in Boston, you know where to go for barbeque!
John is working for the Tufts Conference Bureau again this summer. He's living in this dorm on campus, in what is by college standards a huge suite of rooms all to himself. If you're going to be in Boston this summer, John can not only grill for you, but he can house you too! (Haha, and you're welcome John.) Change of subject . . . . you know how they say that where there's smoke there's fire . . . . well, as we drove into Boston there was a terrible haze in the air. We couldn't figure it out - was it smog? pollen? fire? It was disgusting, you couldn't see very far, it was everywhere, and it smelled. Quite a mystery. So when I got home I looked it up online and it turns out it's there were forest fires in Canada that sent haze down into New England (although none got as far south as Connecticut). Who knew?
Above and below is Mary playing volleyball at an all-day volleyball shindig on Sunday, the day of Woodbury's Memorial Day parade. (Which is to Woodbury what the Shorewood 4th of July parade is to Shorewood, i.e., a really fun small town parade.) Mary had a great day and she said that she was smokin' hot on the volleyball court (okay, she didn't say that, I did). But I really was incensed that no one would go to the parade with me. Mary's excuse: a full day of outdoor physical activity. John's doozy: one of Tufts' sports teams was on national TV for perhaps the first time ever to try to win Tufts' first team national title in any sport ever (which they won - in mens' lacrosse). The game just so happened to be smack dab during the middle of the parade. Brad, of course, didn't want to leave John alone. Peter, as you might have guessed, came up with the unimaginative "I'm across an ocean" excuse. So to my family, I'm giving you plenty of advance notice: I'm fired up for my Mother's Day present next year . . . . it's spelled P-A-R-A-D-E. 
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