I am in Oregon, visiting the parents. Mom is recovering pretty well from her surgery. Although two things cause her some pain, coughing and laughing. For better or worse, laughter is one of things we do really well together so I am not entirely sure if my presence here is helping or hurting. I say LAUGHTER HEALS! Have another Tylenol.
I am out here on my own, no The Bob or The Coop. They are at home, holding things together on their own, two bachelors on the town. So far they are still talking to each other. They do really well together actually. I had some quality FaceTime with them last night. Ah technology.
One thing that happens when I have this kind of extended time with no demands being made of me by 6 year olds, is I get some reading done. So far I have read two Michael Connelly books. He writes crime novels featuring the crusty police detective Heronimous Bosche. I enjoy them even if they do feature entirely too frequently violence against children. I don’t like to make space for that in my brain too often. Next up is Dennis Lehane’s most recent work, Live By Night. He is a homegrown Boston guy and this is a follow up to his other BIG book, The Given Day. Both feature as the centerpiece the riots and police strike of the 1800’s in Boston. I have this on my ipad. I am still not completely sold on reading on it. I like a BOOK. I like the smell of it, I like the feel of some covers on paperbacks. I acknowledge that putting a book on my ipad takes up less space in my bag, but a book never runs low on battery power and does not require me to walk all over an airport, trying to beat out all the other ipod, ipad and iphone laden travelers to the outlets which are placed ever so inconveniently in a wall absolutely no where near an actual seat. Sitting on the nasty floor of an airport, no doubt risking catching MRSA or Dengu Fever just to charge up your technology. A 21st century sacrifice many are willing to make.
I also have put up mom and dad’s Christmas tree, put out the 4 dozen or so Santa Claus figurines my mother has collected and hung the stockings by the chimney with care. It is my observation that when an artist renders a likeness of St. Nick, it can go one of three ways: the Norman Rockwell-like Santa, with a big bushy beard and red cheerful cheeks; a more cartoonish rendering, like that you might find in the Rudolph or Frosty cartoons; and then lastly, the rather creepy, probably Germanic in origin Santa who is not at all chubby and cheerful, but tall and slender and looking dour. I do have quite a few examples to go by here, if you need photographic evidence, let me know.
I am here until next Wednesday when I get on a non stop flight back to Boston. YAY for non stop flights.