KirstenL4W

Today is my nephew’s 17th birthday. He’s got one more year of officially being a kid. It’s hard to image that he will soon be an adult. I still miss the little Bubba, but I also like the big Bubba. And yes, he’s big - not big as in around, because he’s a skinny teenager, but he’s tall - I think he’s up to 6′2″ now, or something like that. His voice is deep, he has to shave, and his feet are huge. What happened? Why do kids have to grow up like this?

He is growing up, though. He’s turning out to be a fine young man. He always takes time out to visit with me and Mister when we’re in town. And just three weeks ago, he called me so that I could say Happy Birthday to Messy J. She turned 11, but I don’t have a contact number for her. Bubba was at her party, and called me so I could talk to her. A kid his age who knows the importance of family is the kind of kid you know will be a great man.

Happy Birthday, Bubba. I love you and miss you.

Mister keeps complaining that he’s old. He recently got bifocals, which cemented his belief that he’s getting much too old for his liking. Never mind that as much as he complains about needing bifocals, he’s been wearing them all the time because guess what? He can actually see things! Who would have thought?

I’ve been trying to convince Mister that he needs to get a Twitter and Facebook account. He sees no use for FB, and thinks Twitter is nothing but a bunch of gossip, but he’s realizing that there are quite a few chefs from Food Network that he likes, and other pop culture things that have twitter accounts, and he’s thinking that maybe he should check this stuff out. He’s not quite sure what he could say that people might find interesting, but I’m sure he’ll find something. So help me in convincing Mister that he’s not old, and will feel even younger if he gets himself on some social networking sites.

I mentioned in a post that Mister recently had surgery. I didn’t mention any more than that, mostly because I wasn’t sure that Mister would be ok with me telling you all of the gory details. But we talked about it, and he doesn’t mind, so here goes.

Due to various factors - herniated discs in his back being a huge one - Mister’s weight over the last year or so has gone up. And up, and up, and up. It got to the point that getting out of the car and walking around it to pump gas was too much physical activity for him. When we flew to New England for our vacation last fall, we knew there was no way that Mister would be able to walk all the way from the car to security to the gate, so we asked for wheelchair assistance. Being first in line at security and first on the airplane was a nice trade-off, though. Anyway, I point this out because Mister was fat. Way fat. Having herniated discs put him in a Catch-22 situation. He couldn’t do any significant exercise because of them, so he packed on the pounds and the weight made his back feel worse. It sucked all around.

We knew some people who had weight loss surgery and had seen some success with it. A couple different friends here in town had the Lap-band done, and one of my imaginary internet friends had the RNY. Adam talked about his experience getting the Lap-Band. Those are basically the only two options available at the local weight loss surgeon’s office, as we found out when we went for an informational seminar. They did mention another procedure, the vertical sleeve gastrectomy, and it sounded like it would be the best choice for Mister, but the local surgeon said that it’s not available in this country. So, with a lack of any other options, we settled on the Lap-band.

Insurance companies are funny about weight loss surgery. If they cover it, they usually don’t contribute much (not as high a percentage of the costs as say, an emergency appendectomy). Which is kind of funny, because losing weight alleviates a lot of health problems. When they do cover it, they usually like you to go on a doctor-supervised diet for 3-6 months and do all sorts of other things that NO ONE else having any kind of surgery has to go through. Those things right there are enough to stop some people from doing this. Lucky for us, Mister’s parents offered to gift us the money so we didn’t have to do that.

Mister was also not too set on the Lap-band. He definitely did NOT want the RNY, because he really didn’t like the idea of someone rearranging his plumbing. Nor was he keen on the risks of malabsorption and dumping syndrome that are common with that procedure. As far as the Lap-band goes, we knew that it was easy to eat around it, and didn’t like the fact that it left this foreign object inside you for like, ever. Further research showed that if we were to ever move out of the area, we’d be hard pressed to find a surgeon who would do the fills required to keep the Lap-band doing its job. Also, I found out through another one of Adam’s posts that the reason one needs fills all the time is because the saline dissipates over time - it is not because your esophagus gets smaller as you get thinner, like the surgeon at the seminar we went to said and like I see a lot of people saying on various message boards. This makes it a lifelong maintenance item, in addition to the lifelong lifestyle changes that need to be made. It was too much. Again, fate stepped in and led us to a doctor that does the procedure Mister wanted.

One of Mister’s relatives in the SF Bay area had a vertical gastrectomy done at Laparoscopic Associates of San Francisco and highly recommended them. This worked out perfectly, since Mister has family in the area that we could stay with during the initial recovery before coming home. So, Mister got in touch with the doctor and after some consultations with the doctor, dietitian and such, the surgery was scheduled for December 16.

I initially did not want to go up to the hospital to sit and wait for him. I didn’t think I’d be very good at doing that without making myself and everyone else around me crazy, so I planned on being at work and going up that weekend to drive him home. At the last minute I freaked, called into work, and packed a bag so I could go up with him. When it came down to it, being there for him was more important to me than my own sanity. That and being with him as much as I could be calmed me more than not being there. So the day before the surgery, we drove up to San Francisco, met the doctor for the first time (and one last consult before the surgery), and drove back down to the south bay to see the in-laws. We got settled and arranged a wake up time so that we could be at the hospital for 6am. It wasn’t a very good night’s sleep, but I don’t think anyone sleeps well before something like that.

The next morning we all piled into the inlaw’s land yacht for the trip into San Francisco. We got to the hospital, checked in, and waited. When Mister got called back, I went with him. I wanted to stay with him until they kicked me out. I helped him get into his oh-so-stylish hospital gown and packed his clothes in the regulation hospital “patient property” bag. He joked with the nurse a bit as she got an IV started on him. Mister and I have very similar humor styles, so some of the jokes were in stereo, or so it seemed. Good spirits is always a good thing. The doctor came in to say hi and took off again. Then we walked back to the OR area. The surgical nurse hooked Mister up to the warmer. We weren’t sure what this meant, but they guy came at Mister really fast with a big hose and started fumbling around in the genital region. Turns out that the gown has two layers and has a vent area to hook the hose up to so warm air can be delivered. The vent on the gown just happens to be near the nether regions. Anyway, Mister met with the surgical nurse and the anesthesiologist - more questions, looking, and last minute checks. Then it was time go to. The doctor likes to have patients walk into the OR if they can to help reduce the chances of blood clots, so off Mister went, and I went back to the waiting area. Walking out of there, it was hard for me to not lose my shit, because if I did I knew that there was no way I’d be getting up off the floor anytime soon. So luckily I was able to let that feeling pass and got back to where the in-laws were waiting.

We were told that we could wait downstairs in the lobby, and I could check in at the desk for information. They gave me one of those flying saucer things they give you when you’re waiting for a table at a restaurant. The surgery was scheduled to take about 2 hours, so we ate breakfast at the cafe and browsed the gift shop a bit, then sat down to wait. Finally, just past 11am, my buzzer went off. I ran over to reception, where they told me that Mister was in recovery and that I’d be able to see him in about 2 hours. Yay! More waiting, but he was OK. About 20 minutes later the doctor came down. He gave me a paper with some post-op instructions, and a copy for our doctor here at home, and told me that the surgery went well but that Mister woke up from the anesthesia swinging and ready to fight. Mister’s never been under or had surgery before, but this definitely sounded like him. I was happy, and continued waiting anxiously to see him.

We ate lunch at the cafe again, then went to find Mister since I should be able to see him. After walking around and being led back and forth a bit, I finally found out the room he’d be in and was able to wait there. They kept him in recovery a little bit longer because his blood pressure started to rise, but pain meds took care of that and he was finally able to come down to his room. When they wheeled his bed into the room, Mister had a goofy smile on his face and was doing a modified version of the Royal Wave. Yep, he’s definitely going to be fine.

The recovery wasn’t as easy as Mister initially thought it would be. He thought that the pain would be no problem, but this was a bit more than he wanted. For laparoscopic procedures, they fill the belly area with gas, and it takes a while to dissipate - which is done through burping and farting. Plus, while the doctor was in there he fixed an umbilical hernia, which was the most painful of Mister’s incisions, so he wasn’t fully expecting that. But Mister got exponentially better with each passing day, and once we survived the awful California freeways, the only complaint that Mister had was drinking those blasted protein shakes all the time.

The diet is different now. Mister was on thin liquids for 2 weeks, and since he needs to make sure he gets enough protein, he was drinking those awful vitamin store protein shakes. After that was soft solids - things like cottage cheese, eggs, etc. - and more shakes to make sure he gets the protein in. The focus is protein, so that comes first, before any kind of carbs, which he maxes out on at 40g per day. He’s on solid food now, and needs to make sure not to eat too much at once. His stomach is now a thin tube instead of the giant pouch it was, so it’s 2-4oz at a time, no snacking, and chew thoroughly. It’s a big change, for sure.

So how’s he doing? Great! Mister is really doing awesome. He weighed in at 422 as he was walking into the OR. We didn’t have a scale at home that could weigh him, but the doctor recommended one that could (and looks just like a regular bathroom scale), so we ordered that. As of this writing, exactly 1 month after surgery, Mister is down to 368. He has more energy now - not enough to be running a marathon, but enough to help me out with some light housework. Also? This will sound very strange to you, since he has to go down to eating practically nothing, but he’s got a renewed interest in cooking. He said that since he can only eat so much and he needs to make every bite count, he wants to make sure that what he eats is as flavorful as possible. I’ll admit that flavor isn’t one of my strong points in cooking (Bland is Grand!), so I think we’re both happy with Mister cooking more.

That’s what’s been happening with us lately. It’s hard to have so much going on and not be able to write about it, but now you know. It’s already brought about a positive change for Mister, and I hope it will bring a lot more positive changes for us. Mister and I both want to be healthier, and this certainly puts him on a path in the right direction. If I’m going to be eating what he eats (but in normal stomach sized quantities) and making sure I don’t bring tempting foods into the house, then that will be good for me as well. I’m already down about 3lbs this month, so hopefully I’ll continue on that path too. Here’s to good health and my incredible shrinking husband!

I should really try to post more often, but you know how it is when you get back from vacation… so much time spent catching up that it’s like you’re still on vacation from your day to day life! Ok, almost, but not really. Work’s been busy, it took me almost a week to catch up on all the posts in my reader, and there’s all the laundry and housekeeping that I’ve been thinking about but not actually doing. Where does the time go?

So, vacation.

Mister and I went to Massachusetts and New Hampshire to visit my family. We didn’t get as much sightseeing in this time, instead focusing on spending time with friends and family. The day we got in was my dad and stepmother’s 30th wedding anniversary, so we took them out to dinner at a nice Italian restaurant of their choosing. Delicious food, and I hope they enjoyed their celebration! We also met up with my friends Belching Biker Babe and Officer Friend (now Detective Friend!). Belching Biker Babe and I got to reminisce, and yes, old pictures came out. Hello, big hair! We also got a bit silly reciting some old George Carlin routines from the album Playin’ with Your Head, which I borrowed from my mom when I was like, 14, and never gave back because BBB and I wore it out memorizing it. Detective Friend met us for dinner in Newburyport, and we got to hear all about his promotion to detective, and about Baby #2, who is due in the spring. Amazing what happens when you move away from home!

We did spend quiet a bit of time driving around, since everything was so pretty due to the fall colors. Mister got to visit Maine for the first time evah when we drove into Kittery just for the sake of going to Maine. I stopped at one of the outlet stores in Kittery and bought a new Christmas ornament and some wild blueberry jam. Maine is known for blueberries, amongst other things, so I recommend anything made with Maine blueberries. Driving around is a much different experience in New England than it is here in Vegas. Here, you drive around town, on roads that are 3 lanes in each direction, or you get lost in master planned communities. Once you leave town, it’s at least 4 hours of barren desert until you get to the next town. In New England, there’s lots to see - pretty houses, interesting shops, lovely scenery, and nice winding roads. We drove Rt 1A up the NH coast, a scenic drive which Mister absolutely loved.

I wanted to spend some time with my Dad’s family, and the best way to do this was to have the family all gather at The House on the Hill. My dad, Gram, aunt and uncle all live within a half mile of each other, so it’s easy to get everyone together. We dined on wonderful homemade food (hard to get when you’re traveling) and got to visit with everyone. One of the biggest things I miss about being back there is gathering with The Family, so it was really nice to be with everyone.

I also got to spend time with my mom’s family. Uncle N Period and Uncle Caboose came up to visit, and Uncle Caboose made Swedish Meatballs! Yes, real Swedish Meatballs, using the recipe that my great-grandmother brought with her from Sweden. Mom also made a birthday cake for Mister since she somehow found out that he would have a birthday during our vacation. Again, it was really nice to visit with people I don’t get to see often enough.

Since it was Mister’s birthday, I stopped at Newbury Comics to browse and to find a birthday gift for Mister. I got him a retro New Wave Halloween CD, Just Can’t Get Enough: New Wave Halloween, The Misfits Box Set, and the book Weird New England, since I knew he’d like a book like that. He stayed up way too late reading it, so I guess he did like it.

Overall, it was a relaxing, refreshing vacation that wasn’t long enough. It was really great to visit with everyone, and we’re already planning our next trip back there. Maybe on the next trip we can do some more touristy stuff so I’ll really have something to write about.

Ten days ago, my oldest niece turned 10. I sent her a package with some presents in it, and a card that included my phone number. I was hoping she, or her father, would call so that I could wish her a happy birthday. That didn’t happen.

A week later I called my sister. She said that Messy J had received her present and said she was going to call me. I’m still waiting.

I used to be close to Messy J, but there’s a lot of mistakes made on the part of both her parents that keep me from being as close to her as I used to be. It all started when I announced I was moving to Vegas in 2003. Of course, my family was upset that I was leaving, but I was selling my condo and would have the money to establish myself independently. I planned a trip to come out and set things up in Vegas for my arrival a month later.

A week after my Vegas trip, my sister went on vacation to Florida to visit a friend who had moved down there. While she was there, she met a guy and decided that she would move down there to live with him. As soon as school was out a month later, she packed up her kids and moved in with a guy she met on vacation. This totally took the heat off me, since I was going about my move in a prudent manner, and everyone turned on my sister. No one thought that this was a good idea.

While I thrived in Vegas, my sister was arguing a lot with her guy. I went to visit her about 6 months after we both moved, and I only stayed a few days at her place before moving to a hotel because of the fighting and yelling. I hated leaving the kids like that, but my own sanity was at stake. We sort of made up before the end of my trip, and I left on decent terms.

Throughout 2004, things got worse for her. She argued a lot with everyone, withheld contact with the kids at whim, and broke up with the guy and moved into another place. That place didn’t last long, and I don’t know the details of where she was after that. I do remember, however, that Bubba and Messy J got put in foster care in February 2005 because my sister had gotten on the radar of family services, and after a number of “diluted” drug test results, she finally failed one. The arguing between her and everyone else got worse. I ended up being diagnosed with acid reflux, and I got myself into therapy and got on Paxil because I was having a lot of anxiety due to the turmoil.

During the summer of 2005, the kids were finally able to come home. Since Bubba doesn’t have any relationship with his father, he went to my dad’s house. Messy J ended up at her father’s house. I’m not sure that’s really the best place for her, since her father isn’t exactly an upstanding citizen and has his own issues with various substances, and has a temper. The biggest thing since she’s been there is that he changes phone numbers as often as most people change underwear, so I can’t contact her. At least they don’t move too often, so I can send mail.

I know Messy J has had a rough time of it. She’s got some emotional issues because of the what’s happened over the last five years, and is no longer the vivacious little girl I once knew. She has very sad eyes now and is very quiet. I miss the little girl she was - the one who was always laughing and smiling. I miss being able to talk to her and hug her and tell her I love her.

There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to think about her, because it just hurts so much that there’s nothing I can really do to help her. A part of me thinks that if I hadn’t moved to Vegas, my sister wouldn’t have decided to move. I feel like my moving set this all in motion. When questioned about her decision to take her kids and move 1500 miles away to live with a guy she just met, my sister said, “Well Kirsten’s moving, so I can too.” I try not to feel guilty about it all, because I know that my sister would have fucked up no matter what, but it’s hard.

Happy Birthday, Messy J. Aunty misses you more than you know.

My sister, being blonde, is often the butt of many blonde jokes. But we don’t tell these jokes or make fun of her just because she’s blonde. Oh no. Very often, all she has to do is open her mouth and she walks into it every time.

A few years ago, a friend of mine was visiting me from Toronto. We had been to The World’s Biggest Bookstore when I was there (the same bookstore from the movie Short Circuit 2) and I was eager to take him to Barnes & Noble, which had recently opened in my area. My friend had also told me that I shouldn’t make so much fun of my sister, because she probably doesn’t deserve it and I was being hard on her just because we’re related. I tried to tell him, no, you don’t understand, she really IS like that. But he wouldn’t hear of it.

We went to B&N, sat in the comfy chairs and got a snack in the cafe. When we returned to my house, my sister was there, eager to make friendly and intelligent conversation. Here’s how it went down:

Sis (upon seeing the B&N bags): What did you buy?

Me: Books.

Sis: What kind of books?

Me (trying to get rid of her): The kind you read.

Now, I think the next question she asked was meant to try and have an intelligent conversation about the subject matter of the newly purchased books. But the way it came out killed all chances at a conversation along with anyone’s misconception that my sister is intelligent.

Sis: But what’s, like, the meaning of books?

My friend ran up the stairs laughing so hard that he was going to pee his pants. I know, because I heard the bathroom door slam. I just stared at my sister with a blank yet disbelieving look on my face. She didn’t understand our reactions, and there was no way I could explain it to her.

To be fair, my sister isn’t dumb. She is capable of learning and can cook a chicken much better than I can. This phase she was going through, being socially incapable of intelligent conversation, lasted until she was about 30, but she’s over it now. Mostly.

As you well know by now, Mister and I recently returned from our trip to New England, specifically the area north of Boston near the New Hampshire border, and into New Hampshire a bit.  The primary purpose of the trip was our honeymoon and to introduce Mister to my family members who did not come out to Vegas for our wedding (and I know better than to make them come when it’s well over 105°F outside).

After a lovely flight in which we got little, if any, sleep due to a whining child in the row behind us, we obtained our rental car at a much higher price than our online reservation said.  At 6:30am and as tired as we were, we didn’t push the issue, but after thinking it over, Mister was able to secure a car with another company at a much, much lower price, so it was worth it to us to get up at 4am the next day to go into Boston, return the first rental, pick up the second car, and be on our way.

So back to day 1.  It was too early to check into our hotel, so Mister tried his hand at driving in the Bay State.  It might have been a bit easier if he had an informative and educational book such as this one, but eventually he got the hang of rotaries and the overabundance of yield signs.  We drove to Gloucester, took some pictures of statues, then drove around Rockport and headed back towards Danvers for a roast beef sandwich.  Mister didn’t understand why I was craving one of these so badly, and he insisted that I was describing Arby’s.  Not so.  For those familiar with a Massachusetts-style roast beef sandwich, you know of what goodness I speak.  For those not familiar, let me enlighten you.  First, you take a bulkie roll (I prefer onion rolls), split it, butter the inside, and put it on the grill (flat grill, not a bbq type grill).  This gives the inside of your sandwich a nice, flavorful cruch.  Then you take warm, rare roast beef and slice it just a bit thinner than your deli slicer will handle.  Pile it high on the roll!  Add mayo or bbq sauce, and cheese if you desire.  That’s it.  Mister was impressed that the sandwich contained real roast beef and not that loaf stuff that’s used at a previously mentioned fast food chain, and by the end of the trip he was a convert.

After lunch, we decided to check in at the hotel because we needed some shuteye.  We only planned on sleeping for about an hour to make ourselves ready for the rest of the day without dooming ourselves to a night owl schedule in a part of the country that doesn’t have much nightlife to speak of, but that plan went horribly wrong.  I slept for around 4 hours.  Officer Friend called sometime during that nap, but I wasn’t coherent enough to talk to him and went back to sleep.  Mister finally woke me up in time to find some dinner, and we ended up going to downtown Newburyport to a landmark restaurant called The Grog, and took in the first of our fresh, New England seafood dinners.  Yummy!  I grew up on fresh seafood, and miss it so much.  A word to the wise: don’t even try to eat seafood in a landlocked state.  Just don’t.

After dinner we walked around Newburyport for a couple minutes, window shopping our way back to the car, and then headed back to the hotel.  We stayed up and watched tv for way too late since we were no longer tired, even though we had a 4am wake up call to go swap cars.  But we managed.  The next day, we swapped cars and since it was still way too early, I amazed Mister with my amazing Dunkin Donuts radar and then we went to Salisbury Beach to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic - a first for Mister.  A drive around the seacoast showed Mister the neighborhood I lived in right before moving to Vegas.  Then we drove to Salem, MA.  Mister was really eager to see Salem, so we made it our sightseeing priority.

Salem, MA in October is not a quiet place, as you can imagine.  Can you really expect it in a town where the police have a witch on a broomstick silhouetted on their cars?  No, it was a bit crowded, but being there on a weekday as opposed to the weekend helped give us a bit of breathing room.  We started with the Corwin Witch House, which is a wicked old house that belonged to a judge involved in the witch trials.  Then we walked down Essex Street to go towards the Witch Museum, stopping in some shops along the way.  When we got to the Witch Museum, we started walking towards the entrance when two busloads filled with elderly tourists stopped, emptied out and rushed the entrance.  Suddenly there was a line down the street, and since it was now after lunch and we were tired, we decided to plan our next trip to New England in the off season, and put the rest of the Salem attractions on that trip’s list.  We headed back to the car, taking a detour to a wicked old cemetary, and decided to drive to one more old thing: House of the Seven Gables.  Mister’s interested in history, and old houses feed into that interst, so it was a fun tour.

By that time it was getting late, and we had plans to have dinner with my dad and stepmom, so we headed up there.  I did a quick driving tour through my hometown, which Mister enjoyed because Methuen has a lot of cool history. We stopped at the local cemetary to visit my grandfather, then went to my dad’s house.  I think Mister enjoyed seeing the house I grew up in.  We chatted with my dad and stepmom until it was time to go pick up my nephew, Bubba, from his football game.  We all piled into the truck to head to the high school I attened in 9th and 10th grade and encountered a crowd of parents picking up all their kids from various sporting events.  With no cell signal, there was no way to get in touch with Bubba to tell him where exactly we were, so since I knew the school grounds I walked up the bus loop and quickly found Bubba waiting on the sidewalk.  I stood next to him for a few minutes before asking him if he was waiting for a ride.  He said yes.  I told him I knew where Papa was, then he finally realized his most favoritest Aunty in all the world was standing beside him.  “Oh, hi Aunty.”

At Bubba’s suggestion, Dad took us to a seafood joint near his house.  It’s mostly fried seafood, and trust me, we Bay Staters can fry seafood really good, but I had something else.  The Holy Grail of seafood.  Maine Lobster.  Yep, it was on the menu and I was having it.  But not just any Maine Lobster.  Twin Maine Lobster - that’s two whole lobsters.  For $19.99.  Oh yes, I was bibbed, my sleeves got rolled up, and I was in the zone.  So messy to eat and so worth every last morsel.

Saturday was the day of our par-tay, the one we planned so that we could get everyone together in one place and meet and greet and celebrate.  We started out in mid-morning by heading to my dad’s place of business.  Mister’s parents have a truck yard, my dad has The Garage.  Mister has heard so many stories that occur there, so I wanted to show him.  He liked it - he said it was a really nice little office, and a great yard.  There’s a brook out back and trees, so even though it’s on the main road through town, it feels rural and relaxing.  After visiting dad, we headed to a different Salem, this one in New Hampshire, to get lunch and do a tour since I spent way more time in Salem, NH than Salem, MA growing up.  We stopped at Newbury Comics for a wicked good time, then wound our way through town.  I showed Mister the house I lived in until I was 6, which is when Dad bought the house in Methuen.  We went to the church to see the memorial garden and visit my mom’s parents.  Grandma’s name was just carved on the headstone that week, so I’m glad I got to see that.  We continued to wind our way through Derry and Londonderry before arriving at the restaurant for our party.

The party was pretty good.  Kids got kinda loud, as kids do, but it was really nice to see everyone.  Dinner was great, and everyone got along, so it was a very nice night.  Except the part about my brother, which my mom wrote about.  But it was fine in the end.  Mister enjoyed meeting the rest of the family and some of my friends, and was finally able to put faces with the names.

The next day, Sunday, we planned on doing Boston.  But my not so great plans, which didn’t consider situations like Mister’s bad back preventing him from walking, meant we got into Boston, parked, got up to the Common, and walked back to the car.  We tried to drive to the USS Constitution, but Boston’s well-laid out roads had other plans and tried to shove us to the airport.  So we decided instead to go back to Newburyport, which is much more compact and more easily walked.  The Autumn Harvest Festival caused us to abort those plans, since heavy traffic meant that we would most surely not get a parking space anywhere near the downtown area.  We were starving by this point, so headed to Friendly’s for lunch and called my mom to announce that we were coming over.  Mommy was thrilled at the unexpected visit, and Mister got to see a bit more of New Hampshire since we had to drive nearly forever on a road to the middle of nowhere to get to my mom’s house.

For Monday, our last full day there, Mister suggested we call my Gram to visit with her.  I really liked this idea because I really like spending time with my Gram.  First we picked up Bubba and went bowling so that I could show Mister a form of bowling that is more challening because the ball is not as wide as the lane.  We had lunch at the bowling alley then headed to Gram’s.  Mister enjoyed talking to Gram and learning of how she earned her engineering degree in the 1940s and worked as an electrical engineer for a time.  Then we popped downstairs to visit my aunt and uncle for a bit, and I got to show Mister the house I spent every single Christmas in until I moved to Nevada.  Then we dropped Bubba off and headed back to the hotel.

On our last day, we had an evening flight, so we checked out of our hotel and did a driving tour.  Mister wanted to see more of New Hampshire and fall colors, so we did that before heading to the airport.  Overall, Mister really liked his first visit to Massachusetts and New Hampshire.  He loves the fact that there are 4 distinct seasons and would love to experience Christmas with snow.  He loves the old houses and the fact that newer homes are built in pretty much the same styles that were used since the Pilgrims first landed.  He loves the accent, even though he thought I was speaking a totally different language most of the time.  Most of all, I think he loves that I grew up there and was able to show him a part of the country he’d never been to before - a part of the country that is a huge part of who I am.

Tomorrow I leave to go back east for my Grandma’s memorial service.  Instead of flying into New Hampshire or Boston, MA, I found a much better deal flying into JFK.  This works well for me because Uncle N Period lives in the NYC Metro area and can pick me up.  I’ll stay with him and Aunt Bird and drive up with them, and we’ll all stay at my mom’s for 1 night.  Being with family but not in the thick of it will be more relaxing for me, and goodness knows I need to relax a bit.  I’ve been very busy this week, at work as usual, and I’ve been cleaning up my computer because I am going to try to bring it with me for Uncle Caboose.  He’s using my mom’s old dinosaur that crashes when he wants to play Mah-Johng.  I also had to transfer all my stuff to the laptop (the Vista laptop that I have a love-hate relationship with - I love it because it’s a laptop, and I hate it because it’s Vista.  I’m coming around on the Vista part, though.)  The easy part was all my pictures and other documents, but I was a bit worried about my music collection.  Luckily, I found some really good instructions online, so after I used the Belkin Easy Transfer to move the files, I then followed the directions to move the music to an external hard drive.  I’ve been wanting to do that anyway, because I can fill up lots of storage space with music.  I only have about a quarter of my collection ripped, but now I have the space to do the rest.

Anyway.  Doing all that, I feel like I haven’t had a moment to rest, so I’m looking forward to having 5 straight hours to read while hurdling through the atmostphere in a metal tube.  I have a few hours to people watch.  I don’t have to work, do laundry or make dinner for 4 days, and I don’t have to be anywhere except at the airport and at church.  Despite the heavy emotional toll this weekend will have, I’m looking forward to the lack of obligation.

Since I’ll be travelling, I may not get a chance to check on things online, so comments will sit for awhile, and I may not be in the blogosphere reading up on everyone else.  I’ll catch up on that later, but I will be back early next week.

My grandmother died today.  Grandma was sick in the hospital this past week, so it wasn’t totally unexpected.  Grandma would have been 88 at the end of this month, so she lived a long life.

Enjoy some pictures.

Grandma’s Birthplace in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn

Grandma (right) with her sister Helen and brother Vince

Grandma reading some Scandinavian humor

Grandma holding her great-grand daughter, Messy J

Grandma with her kids. From L-R, Uncle Ricky, my Mom (when she was brand new), Uncle Caboose and Uncle N Period

This past weekend Mister and I went to the San Francisco Bay area.  He grew up there, and we’ve been a few times before, but this time he brought me to a new place: his parent’s house.  We were scheduled to have a luncheon in the garden with his parents and a few friends who live in the area.  On the way up there Friday afternoon, and well into the evening (it’s a long drive from Vegas), we took a slightly more scenic route so we could take a quick tour of the town he spent many summers at.  The tiny farming community hadn’t changed much, except for the truck stops, but it was cool to see.  Mister was so animated as he was going through pointing out what used to be where, and showed me the family farm (it’s still in the family).  It was pretty cool, even though it was dark out.  We want to go back during the day so we can visit the tiny museum and actually see the place in the light.

We got to the bay area rather late.  Checking into our hotel, we had to sign a no-party disclaimer.  Kinda strange, especially considering that it’s not situated that closely to any sort of establishment that would attract a partying crowd.  After not sleeping very well due to the world’s softest bed, (this was not some fleabag motel, either - we stay at Marriots) we checked out and went on a tour of Mister’s hometown.  He showed me his schools, his first apartment, some properties his parents own, and a few other places related to the History of Mister.  His town is such a charming little place - the kind of place you see in the movies, with lovely houses and sidewalks that people actually walk on and all sorts of stuff like that.  But then we drove down to San Jose to visit the family business.  San Jose is a grittier, rougher place, but fitting for a trucking company.  Mister showed me some of the stuff he worked on and I got to meet Hilda the watchdog.

After the tour, it was time to head back to Utopiaville for the luncheon.  My in-laws have a home with character that doesn’t look like all the other homes on the block, like here in Vegas.  They have trees and a lawn and plants that need water, and you can find the front door.  I got the tour of the house, saw Mister’s old boy-cave and my MIL’s artwork.  She does such awesome watercolors.  Mister was trying to go shopping to accessorize our house, but his mother would have none of that.  In the backyard, with its water feature and real goldfish, we set up the table on the covered patio for our luncheon, then we picked lemons from the lemon tree and made lemonade.  I’m totally serious!  My MIL has a lemon tree with the biggest freaking lemons I’ve ever seen.  We made lemonade with real lemons, not a container full of powder.  It was awesome, as was the luncheon outside on a day that was a tiny bit warm but had a gentle afternoon breeze.  Yes, my husband apparently grew up in a fictional land.

We spent the rest of the afternoon there, then headed to a hotel closer to the city with the intention of meeting up with some more friends, but that hotel was overbooked, so we went 10 miles south (away from SF) to a room paid for by the overbooked hotel.  Score!  It killed our plans on going into San Francisco, since it was so late and we had a long drive ahead of us on Sunday.  But that’s ok.  The sleep was much better.

On Sunday, we wanted to go down to the truck yard to get Mister’s toolbox.  He has 2 toolboxes there, and we were to get the smaller one, which would barely fit in the bed of the pickup.  But, we got a later start than we wanted and there was traffic on the 101 Freeway due to an accident, so we ended up missing my father-in-law.  That’s ok.  We were wondering how the heck we (as in my strong, manly man of a husband and me, a weak girly girl) were going to unload an incredibly heavy toolbox from the truck after driving 10 hours back home.  Another time, then.

My mom sent me the pictures she took at my wedding.  You can see those on my flickr page if you are on my friends list there.  Now I need to send her the good pictures and send my dad and my sister the pictures.  My sister has no idea what her brother in law looks like.  For now, though, it’s back to the grind.