Have you seen my normal?

Mixed feelings.

One definition is relief at the end of something pleasant, even very pleasant. (Another is my reaction to a loud motorcycle [I don't like loud] ridden by a person in a Bruins jersey. I don't like it, I like it...)

When last I posted, pre-guests, I was talking about getting ready. I managed not to get too crazy before they got here, so I guess there are some benefits to age and what maturity I have attained (not all that much, but some). On the day they were arriving, I called the airline before I left work, to check on their flight (scheduled to arrive at 6:09 P.M.), and was told that it had left and was "estimated" to arrive at 6:18. Close enough, I felt, and I left for the airport. The drive was fine, Logan Airport failed to confuse me completely, and when I was parked in the airport garage I amused myself by calling again before I went in. This time, it said estimated arrival was 6:28. All right. I went into the terminal and found one of those TV monitors, where it said the flight arrival time would be 8:42.

Excuse me? I beg your pardon? What?

I went and found a live human person, and asked about the difference there, and she said that one should believe the TV over the phone, in terms of up-to-date-ness of information. (Then what good is the phone, I ask you?) She asked what airport they were coming from, and when I said JFK in New York, told me that it is noted for getting quickly out of hand with delays. More helpfully, she said that if I had time to kill, terminal C had food and shopping on this side of security. I said I practically had time to go home and come back, but when I thought about it, decided that I better not try that (rush hour traffic), so instead I found the airport shuttle and went over to C.

Ever since childhood, when our mother had us bring a book with us everywhere for whiling away waits and delays, that's been my practice, but I had brought the scrubby-making supplies to the airport instead, and there was no way I was spending several hours making scrubbies, so my first stop was to Borders. I picked up the new Laurell Hamilton, knowing that I wasn't going to have time to finish it and it would then taunt me for some time (as it is in fact still taunting me now, and I'm going to have to start over from the beginning, but who's counting). Then I went to get something to eat, as I was hungry and didn't know how long it would be. I found a place to get a sandwich, and when I was finishing it just before 7, decided to call the stupid useless phone line again for some reason. I think my guardian-whatever must have goosed me, because it said that the plane had landed at 6:52. I looked at the time, and it was 6:54. I said, "Oh, really?" and hopped it back to the shuttle to get back to terminal A to meet my friends before they decided that I had given up on them. I mean really, what kind of way is that to run an airline? Not that I wanted it to be later, but "it's not late/it's very late/it's kind of late" is just messing with people.

When you haven't seen someone in person in so long, it's interesting to recognize them right away, and be recognized. Part of me thinks I haven't changed at all, and part of me thinks I'm quite different. I guess it's like something I read in a book, that goes something like this: "Is it a good thing or a bad thing? The answer is yes." I've changed, she's changed, but we're both still us, right? Life's funny that way.

So, they were here Thursday night through Tuesday, and other than eating out in lots of good places, and hitting some good bookstores, and comic shops (he collects), and walking and walking, what did we do? Let me show you. (I'm going to do flowers separately, or I'll be up all night.)

We saw a performance artist of sorts in Boston:


At Plimoth Plantation, which was very cool by the way, we saw this deeply disturbing thing (the Mooflower, if you must know):


(It was done for the Cow Parade.)

When I say this young man was hot, I'm not talking about the fire in the canoe, and I don't think that's what they're looking at, either, do you? :)


This man was demonstrating how the pike-men would protect the riflemen while they reloaded. He was really good: knew his stuff, and could handle the heckling children in the crowd ("Tele-vision? Why, that would be from the Latin, all-seeing...")


We saw a couple of these triangular chairs, which caught my fancy for some reason:


I don't know exactly what this is (the tall thing on the right in particular), and it was in one of the houses without a person to ask, but I thought it was both photogenic and blogworthy.


Apparently goats, like cats, feel the need to do that sort of thing when the camera is on them.


We didn't spend the entire time in Plimoth, though by now you could be pardoned for thinking so. On another day we went to Salem, and found some things of particular interest at the Witch House, the home of Witch Trial Judge Jonathan Corwin. It's really better described by the other part of the sign, "An Elegant 17th Century Home", though you can't blame them for trying to get the attention of the typical Salem-going crowd.

I liked this window (yes, it gets better, hold on):


This chest is wider at the bottom because it was designed to be used on a ship, and wouldn't tip over. Isn't that clever?


Then there's this. I know you see the wheel, but you see the thing in front of it, with the yarn around it?


I didn't know what it was, so I read the board:


A yarn weasel: pop goes the weasel! I don't even care if it's true, it's fun, I like it! (I'm usually more discerning than that with the origins of things, but you know, not always.)

So, we had a good time in Salem, we enjoyed Plimoth Plantation, we wandered well over Boston and Cambridge, and one of the things we did in Boston itself was take a Duck Tour. This was something I had always wondered about, and now I can absolutely recommend. It's a good tour apart from the duck aspect, and then there's the mind-warping part of riding from street into river. Our guide was Jumpin' Jim, and he did a good job (I can't say I was sorry not to get the guy in the superhero outfit we saw walk by, though he was probably just as good, but it was quite the outfit). I took many, many photos (enough for a post by themselves), but this one was the best:


It's a nice city, Boston.

I feel like that captures the spirit of my friends' visit. As for my parents, they arrived last Thursday afternoon, and it was great to see them (it's been since Christmas). We spent Thursday night, Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday hanging out, catching up, eating, visiting, etcetera. They hadn't seen my condo in person yet, only through photos and the dvd tour, so they got to check it out, and my new town, and gave it thumbs up. We ate in their favorite restaurants (Bertucci's, Pearl Street Station, Woodman's in Essex) and with friends. They brought me a china set that my aunt had left me, so I have china now (this is most of it):


It was so great to see them ... but I'm so tired. Not from seeing them. Not from my friends, before that. Just tired.

I have nothing on my "schedule" this coming weekend, nada, zip, zilch. I can't wait. If I work at it, I can get that done.