Saturday In Boston

Saturday was supposed to be a blogger walking tour of North Boston along the Freedom Trail to see all the sights. Unfortunately, it was raining in sheets and the wind blowing a gale. My poor little travel umberella ella ella was straining to keep from inverting, so I had to fold it away on several occasions and take the rain like a man.

Evil Ganome called with an alternative plan. He, Tate, and The Niece were going to the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston to see Drama and Desire, Japanese Paintings from the Floating World 1690-1850.

I'm not so much a museum person, but I figured what the heck, I'm up for expanding my horizons. It's raining; standing and walking won't bother my sore back; and it will give me some time to spend quality time with the gang. After meeting on the steps of Quincy Market, we headed to the T station. I was sporting my new red LL Bean jacket, which I had received a compliment on just the night before in the hotel elevator. As it turns out, Tater said he has the same jacket in the same color. I shared my previous night's compliment with him and I decided then and there he was blessed with outstanding taste!

The Niece was wearing a sweater that EG had knit for her. I was really amazed. The time and care put into it was as impressive as the knowledge of stitching and how to put the final garment together.

On the train, I started to feel a little light headed. By the time we got our tickets and checked our coats at the MFA, I was feeling dizzy. Since we'd been in and out of cold to hot to cold to hot, I thought it was just something that would go away. I excused myself from the group scurried upstairs to the restroom and sat down. Not to do any business, but just to get a seat. And all I could think of was that everyone in there was looking at my stance and wondering if I was going to make a tea room move. Now taking a simple dump has taken on homosexual overtones. Crap! You closeted Senators are ruining everything!

I felt a bit better and decided that splashing cold water on my face would revive me. It did. I caught a second wind and I was able to catch up with the group in the Japanese exhibit. I kept noticing the presence of gnarly-toed green demons in many of the paintings. Apparently, according to a placard read by Tate, these were symbolic of the evil demons that would come and get you in your dreams if you forgot the right prayers. "Just great," I thought, "another reason to be stressed out at night." Like I don't have enough to worry about.

Beep, beep, beep. Stand back, the motion sensors told us. "No photography in the gallery, please," the attendant announced to the room full of art aficionados (ahem more photos on Tater's blog).

We had a great time. We were sharing stories, cracking jokes, and just enjoying ourselves.

Tate and I caught the train back to our respective hotels where I promptly fell into bed and slept for the next 16 hours. Yep, the bug had officially taken hold. Tate called as promised at 6 so we could join the group for dinner but I barely remember him calling let alone the conversation. I hope I didn't say anything embarrassing!

I missed out on getting to spend more time getting to know the Farmboyz and meeting Atari Age for the first time. Perhaps another time...
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