Greetings from Bean Town

So I'm sitting here in the Lobby of the Omni Peterson Hotel in Boston...one of the oldest hotels in Boston so they say.  I've fought the noble fight to get logged on to the internet.   When I called the front desk to ask if they had wireless they said they only had a hard connection to the internet in the room...all you have to do is connect from the phone to your computer.  But there was no cable to perform such a task.  However, they assured, wireless is available in the lobby.  So this is where I am.  In the lobby...and it seems that the hotel's wireless is very finicky with Safari.  Pooh Pooh.  Pooh.  But after sticking it out I'm on.  And I swear the moment my internet blipped on I overheard a guy at the front desk tell another hotel patron that the wire you would use to connect your computer to the phone is actually in a black bag in the closet.  IN THE CLOSET! Oh well... here I am.  Tip tapping away at 11:30 East Coast crime...I mean time.

A few meals over twenty four hours from our arrival in Boston and all I can say is, "Boston, I freaking love ya!  You ah wicked cool!"  Last night on our first venture out into the bean streets - after the girls delighted in taking on the hotel's revolving doors - the first thing that hit me was the steam snaking out of the manholes in the streets.  I've never seen that before.  Call me a rube, I don't care.  The next thing that hit me...and I mean milliseconds after noticing the steam...WAS THE UNHOLY COLD!!!  Oh my God it is cold.  I mean I knew what the temperature was going to be cold but man oh man.  Cold cold cold cold it was.  It is.  I immediately lost all sensation in my face.  The only way I still knew my eyes still worked was from the tears welling up but quickly thickening with frost.  And it isn't even snowing.  It's just cold.  But I gotta tell you all.  I love it.   

So after the girls, the wife and I all stopped standing on the sidewalk and screaming our lungs out from the cold we headed to the Northern part of town where the Italian restaurants are.  So delicious. I haven't had Italian that good since I was in Berlin. That might sound odd but those of you who have occassioned themselves in Berlin will know what I'm talking about.  After that we hit MIKES just down the block.  Hey...  You...  You like pastries and stuff?  Well, Mike's has got it all.  Take a look at these freakin' lamb confections.

  

What these things are I can't tell you.  But I was again like a slack-jawed Rube looking like he hadn't seen anything made out of sugar and flour before.  But then we came across these bad boys

Do you see what these suckers are called?  WHOOPIE PIES!  I couldn't handle it.  I started to do a "Footloose" dance right there in the store!    My enthusiasm was unstoppable.  But I must confess I was not brave enough to try a whoopie pie.  I am, after all, just a man.  Maybe some day.  Just not now.  Instead I bought a canoli...and kept yabbering the Godfather quote over and over again until Tiffany threatened to divorce me.  (Footnote:Whoopie Pie will ultimately become the annoying nickname for someone I know...I just haven't decided for who yet.  I just can't help it.  It's how I'm built.)

Today the family took the Boston Duck Tour.  For those of you that don't know what a Duck Tour is let me fill you in.  A Duck Tour is where you get driven around in this big o'le amphibious bus for a spell get told what is what around town, then for the grand finale the bus goes right into the Charles river and floats around...ON PURPOSE.  So we were enjoying the lovely Duck Tour and then I looked up and saw who was driving

That's Charlie!  Was this a mutiny?!  How'd she take over the craft?!  I think I passed out because when I next look up I saw someone else driving.. That's...that's CHASE!  My underage daughters had somehow managed to overtake the tour and cruise the amphibious craft around the Charles river.  Alright, maybe it's because they were asked.  I'd be lying if I wrote that I wasn't incredibly jealous.  Really jealous.  I mean, I didn't speak to the girls for a good ten minutes or so.  But then the driver passed out Neco Wafers (because they are made in Boston) and I came around and forgave them.

"Hey...how you doin'?"  This guy started walking along side me in Boston Common.  

The Dodge unit was on their way to see the Duck statues in the Garden across the way.  "I'm alright."  How are you?"  This guy looked me up and down.  "Where you from?"

"I'm from LA."

"What?  Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's great.  That's really great."

"It's cold here."

"Well, LA...both places have great weather."

Then the guy stumbled off.  He was a bit drunk.  But see?  Even the drunk folks here are nice.   So far everyone actually has been really nice.  And I think maybe it's because Boston is just so small.  I mean for the first hundred years of it's existence the burial grounds customarily piled bodies on top of each other.  So everything is intimate.  People expect to have to interact with one another.  And when it's expected, people are prepared to "deal."  And I actually think that fosters friendliness.  How those dead piled high feel about it, who knows.  BUT IT'S SO COLD HERE I'D DOUBT IF THEY ARE COMPLAINING!!!"

I'd like to leave you with two final pictures and a little video.  The last two pictures are of Charlie and Chase with Mrs. Mallard and her ducklings.  Four days ago one of the ducklings got stolen.  As you'll see in the first photo of the little quackers the second to the last duckling was the one that's been duck-napped...so Chase obligingly filled in.  (Please note for realism I saw that she purposely fitted her feet over the two metal holes left from the duckling statue that was pulled from the ground.