Boston

Hours before boarding the plane to Boston my brother sent me an IM. "It's 20 degrees here" Seemed reasonable to me, until he typed, "It's supposed to snow". That's when I realized he meant 20 degrees fahrenheit. Quickly, I opened the suitcase, and stuffed it with a down jacket, gloves, and rain shoes.

all wintry and bundled

The flight to Boston was, well, unawesome. Crowded. Delayed. The guy next to me kind of fell asleep on me a little bit. I wanted to push him off, but his wife wanted me to take pity on him. Which seemed odd. Maybe they were swingers and that was some sort of mile-high club foreplay. Regardless, it made it hard for me to sleep. I survived the flight and my brother picked me up at the airport.

My brother's self named 'wedding of the century' was in mere hours. It was too early to check in at my hotel, so he took me to the step parents' hotel. They were happy to see me and tried to engage me in conversation. I went to their couch, made a pillow with my down jacket and took a nap. They were not completely surprised. I had been a petulant child after all. Gingerly, they woke me up in a couple hours. I patted down my hair, smoothed my skirt and went with them to Cambridge City Hall for the wedding.

After the wedding, we took over a local restaurant for lunch. Still somehow awake, I had an excellent time talking to the other guests and snapping pictures. Eventually, the energy waned. I was escorted to a cab and sent to my room.

I was staying at the Hotel Marlowe in Cambridge. The rooms were very nice and warm and they had nightly wine receptions in the faux living room off the lobby. I tend to be a fan of the faux living room thing. I grabbed a glass of wine, some coffee table books and made conversation with the other hotel guests. It was chock full of lesbians in town for the KD Lang concert. So, I felt right at home, but with snow.

The best part of the hotel was the drapes in the guest rooms. They had the Declaration of Independence on them. Not the original, here you can see:

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of textiles

This guy at the wine reception thought they were "US Constitution Drapes". I imagine a few, cold hours walking the freedom trail will help him sort that all out.

So, the snow. It snowed all day on Friday, which makes a pretty back drop for a wedding, but means I had to wear a dress that matched my rain shoes. The roads were unsalted according to the taxi drivers and not safe. I was alarmed to think it was the kind of storm that even 'professional' drivers would not want to venture out in, but the KD Lang fan I befriended said "they're all from Ghana, how would they know how to drive in the snow". Perhaps all the above is somewhat true. It did mean that the dinner with the family, turned into me eating french fries and drinking wine in a faux hotel living room, because no one wanted to drive. Still, there are worse things than french fries and free wine.

The white powder from the sky, she burns.

Saturday, we did all manage to huddle together and make our way to a fantastic brunch. Afterwards, I indulged in some fabric shopping. Still, not past the curtain stage with the new sewing machine, but I am determined to make myself some new clothes, since this year they cannot be bought. I went to Marimekko to pick up vibrant prints for some sort of future skirt project. In china town, I went with bright silks. Something slinky, but simple. From china town we made our way down town, past all the brightly lit clothing stores that used to demand my attention and credit cards. My brother was impressed by how brave I was, barely glancing at the H&M, when we passed by. Out of pity he bought me a pair of chihuahua socks. Socks with chihuahuas on them, not socks for chihuahuas. Though, chihuahuas will indulge you:

Socks as hats!

After being gifted with socks, I put myself on the T and found my way back to the hotel without the help of breadcrumbs. After a grueling twenty minute work out at the hotel fitness center (people, I am a machine), I had a lovely dinner with my brother and sister-in-law. My french fry recommendation was well received.

The next day, I had an early breakfast with my friend Shannon and her son, Matthew. She was nice enough to drive to meet up with me and take me to the airport, even though I didn't even tell her I was going to be in town until the last possible minute. I'm glad she made it. It was nice to see her again and it was nice meeting Matthew in person. He has those fat baby cheeks that demand pinching. There are worst things.

Must. Pinch. Cheeks.

The rest of the story involves more delayed plans, more awkward seating arrangements, me spilling water on the guy sitting next to me and finally arriving home to the disco wall at the airport BART station.

Disco wall!