Blast You Boston and Your Concretal Treachery

Yet another beauty has joined the blogging world. Emily York, welcome.

As of today, I have officially experienced the hell of driving through, around, between, below, and above the city of Boston without ever reaching my proclaimed destination. Kelly and I were taking a short afternoon trip to Mass General to visit a woman who just had serious heart surgery. We began the journey with MapQuest in hand and joy in our hearts. As we weaved in and out of traffic for an hour and half we drove through the dreaded intersection where, after picking up Luc and Adam from the airport, a stretch Hummer limo attempted to take a bite out of The Silver Bullet. Anyway, my patience was wearing thin, and I wasn't even the one driving. We decided that it was time to try something different. Unlike most men, we stopped for directions. Not once...but twice. And then we called the hospital. Not once...but twice. If the city were not full of dead ends and lack of signage, we could have been successful in our search. Sorry Ann. We really wanted to visit. Truly we did.

Watch out Fans

Lindy is spiraling down the slide of despair. As excited as I am to come home, graduate, see my friends and family, it is killing me to know that this is my final week in Manchester.

I have had many friends and family members who have held me during the hard times and laughed with me during the good. But I can sincerely say that in the last four months I have experienced what it's like to have a mom again. Saying goodbye to Kelly (and fam) is the real deal and it will be difficult for me.

So, if you see me, talk to me, or think about me keep in mind that I am extra mushy right now as I prepare for my departure.

Plus I didn't fall asleep until 7 this morning. Sleep deprived AND emotional. It's going to be a long week...

A Trip Downtown

My active imagination got away from me today. Perhaps the fervent, but dismal thoughts were induced by the crass influences of Vermont.

Maybe I should introduce this in a more gentle way. We were there checking out sites for Workcamp this summer. It will be a great experience for the churches that come together in July and work on the homes of the hurting.

Vermont is a beautiful state, now one of my favorites. The drive was amazing; clouds hung just above the mountaintops and seemed be like "swabs of cotton, snagging the trees above us." Even the heavier clouds were shrouding the mountains in their bleak glory. Countryside was one experience. Delving into the city was another. The people there are indeed the backward stereotypical rednecks that everyone talks about. They live in the sticks and they act like it. It was difficult to communicate with even the obscure shop owners. For they, who should be more than delighted to do business with anyone from out of state willing to mingle in their hometown, were hardly pleased with our presence.

Well, besides that, I found the perfect hole-in-a-mountain town for a serial killer! It is called West Rutland. Doesn't that just sound like trouble? We circled the "town" (I hesitate to call it a town since it was the size of a shoe box) several times all the while feeding my imagination with twisted and demented plots: The run-down hotel that would double as killer site #3, the rock pile yard that would serve as a temporary burial ground before the mass murderer would deteriorate the bodies into fertilizer for his greenhouse center which would also serve as a cover job, the banged up Chevy that careened past us in anticipation of reaching his haunted castle outside of town where he could perform sick rituals, there was also the wood beam piles and the ghastly factory which were killer sites #1 & 2.

Have any of you ever seen a goat the size of a pony?

And there you have Vermont.

Disclaimer: These are my thoughts and reflections of the trip. No one else is held responsible for my warped demeanor.



create your own personalized map of the USA

For Lack of Better Words

I'm having trouble thinking of something to blog about. This has been a lovely week; maybe that's the problem. Still haven't heard from any job people. Still don't know what I'll be doing post-graduation. For that reason, I'd like to gouge my eyes out with a spoon, but I'm trying not to let the uncertainty get under my skin.

In the 80s and About Time

That's right kids, today it hit a beautiful 85 degrees in Manchester! I have been waiting for this blessed occassion and it finally came. Everything I did had to involve the outdoors. Thankfully, my co-worker Miss Michele felt the same way so we encouraged everyone to participate in an outside staff meeting which resulted in a golden tan on my shoulders! Woo hoo!

Here is a link I came across on Mr. Gowin's website...enjoy!
Emily, I think you will particularly appreciate this.

Subserviant Chicken (click here)

About a Day

It was a balmy 70 degrees in Boston today, the Red Sox whomped the Yankees, I ate the best beef tip samich ever in my life, we had the best seats while viewing Damien Rice and band in concert at the Avalon, and topped it all off with Krispy Kreme. This has been, by far, the best day of my New England experience.

Props to the following:

Carson: amidst interpersonal discomfort, you found a ticket to a sold out show and magically caused the street lights go out in your presence.

Emily: you had willing faith in your friends, for techincally mading it into a show without paying, and for meticulously pointing out Asians while strategically sitting among a sea of them.

Yankee/Red Sox fans: you entertained the crowds for several minutes with your moonings, banters, and drunkeness.

Dumb people beside us: you managed to escape certain, painful death despite your horrendous stupidity.

Damien and friends: you played Radiohead and were all-around amazing; thus, making it perhaps the best live performance I have ever witnessed.

Now that I have praised the day, I will share an experience from the Avalon.

Why the heck would anyone want to spend $25 on a ticket, more money on alcohol, and then talk very loudly through an entire concert? If you have any brain in that skull of yours, you would share pointless information about 401Ks at work, not beside avid fans at their valued and desired show. The drunken couple in front of me was more than unbearable; thus, enhancing my evil factor by 97%. Bottle caps flew through the air in anticipation of striking my victims in the forehead. Flimsy plastic cups were gently nudged from their ledge only to strike the feet of the psychotic animals before me. You should have seen this guy dance. 45 years old and still trying to pull moves from 1963. Newsflash: It wasn't cool then and it is definitely not cool now.

Despite the commotion, we had a terrific time and I am actually in a funk of sadness now because it is over.

Name this tune: da - da da da daa daaaa daaaaaaa

The Spiritual Gift of Self-Control

I babysat for four hours today and walked out with $40. I love the babysitting culture in New England. Evidently these kids are worth valuable money. Back home most of my sitting is free...well, maybe because I'm related to the little monsters.

When I returned home from my raptor-attacking adventure my roommate was heading out the door for the coast. I said, "Heck, I'll go. I was going to ride my bike around the lake, but how many days do I get to frolick in the Atlantic?" So, it was on the road to various stops. All was well. Pictures should be wonderful. I felt good about it.

Then we stopped at the Kittery Outlet Mall.

"Lindy, splurge."
"You just made $40...spend a little."
"That looks great on you."

The taunting voices kept nagging at my soul. Save your money. Damien Rice is tomorrow and enjoy it to the fullest. Shirts aren't worth the money. Experience is priceless.

I was driving the salesguy batty with my indecision. He kept pulling out my size in a variety of styles and colors. His movements were to entice me into a sale. A sale of which he would be redeemed to a level of human worthiness despite this cruddy part-time weekend job.

I turned my back on the impressive cash register, walked to the table, returned the shirt to its original location, made my apologies, and walked out the door.

Hoorah! Victory was mine...I saved $11.59!

Dad, Snoopy, and Special Bread

For Manchester Christian Church, Easter is seen as the biggest outreach opportunity of the year. This year we had a service at Southern New Hampshire University and estimated 2022 people, doubling regular Sunday attendence. Naturally, preparation for such an event is worth hours and hours of planning, practicing, and potential stress. Not for me, though. This past week was by far the most uneventful week of my time out here. Seeing as I am an empathetic individual at heart, I felt for my roommates as they each attended their meetings and practices. All the while, I was fortunate enough to have an extra day off of work!

All of the time paid off. The service went beautifully. I was commissioned "floater" for the morning because Kelly has wisely identified my spiritual gift of A.D.D. People were everywhere. I was in my element. I was loving it.

My dad flew into town on Saturday night with Jeanne's dad, Tom. Ray and Tom got along very well. They are like two peas in a pod and even exchanged email addresses before Tom left to visit his parents in Vermont. It is great having my dad in town again. He left me a Snoopy on my bed from the Easter Bunny. Now he is seeing firsthand how I have easily fallen in love with the church, my roommates, and my job.

Since X-Ray Ray is here, Kelly invited us over for Easter dinner. It is custom for me to commune at the Belley's home since they became my pseudo-family the day I arrived. Mark hid candy all over the yard and we actually went on a hunt. As if that wasn't enough, Kelly made me special bread! Oh it was utter bliss.

I can't remember the last time I had so much joy and fun on Easter. Sure miss my crazy family, though...

Flight of Ideas

God gets to paint a new sunset every second of the day. Yes, this has been an epiphony for myself and several others here in Manchester. Just think about it...the sun is rising, chillin out at high noon, and setting simultaneously. It's like another version of the trinity!

Flaming Yawn

Summer. Sun. Water. Swimming Suit. Things just got ugly. If I could ever in my life be of the masculine species, it would be when I have to buy a bathing suit. That's right...there is NOTHING good about shopping for a new suit. FYI, contrary to popular belief, the world is not run by 5'10" 120 lb models who would rather throw up their food than eat it. Therefore, I think it atrocious that every store in every town in America insists that they sell the smallest pieces of clothing possible and expect us to feel good about ourselves. Serious problems arise when the "how to wash tag" is the largest identifiable piece of fabric attatched. And how does anyone of any shape have a successful trip with such inhibiting circumstances? It's wretched I say, absolutely wretched.

I made such an unfortunate trip today. Target was a disappointing sell out. So, it was on to Kohl's for a more significant search. None of the tops fit. The bottoms were either too small or too big. One piece suits? Unlikely. Heaven forbid they sell one piece suits without hip-brimming skirts! For those of you (boys) who have never enjoyed the endeavor, I should let you know that we have to wear our "undershorts" when trying on the sad specimens. Each crotch is lined with a diseased sticky strip that reads "Please wear undergarments." Today one stuck to my inner thigh and RIPPED my skin as I removed the suit. Ridiculous.

One a positive note, I found a cute one and I feel half-way decent about it. Time to enforce those crunches!

Random Thoughts

How is it that something can be around for years and you never notice. And then one day it is right in your face and you don't know how you ever missed it? For instance:

Is the sky really more blue after it has been raining for six days...or does it just appear that way?

Speaking of sky, can the sun be brighter in New Hampshire due to lack of heavy pollution as can be found in say, Chicago?

Is it okay to work at Hooters, donate your eggs and then serve ice cream to random children in the street and then justify it as your calling?

I've heard of Deltas and I've heard of Fiords and I've heard of Davenports. What is it with Missouri?

Adventures in the Land of the Living

Missions at hand: Make it to Boston alive. Pick up Adam and Lucas. Make it to Manchester alive.

Mission 1: Thursday was the big day. Jeanne and I loaded ourselves into the Silver Bullet and voyaged down I-93 towards Boston. Rain poured onto my slightly ghetto windshield causing great difficulty for my vintage wipers. They could hardly keep up. We made it to Boston alive.

Mission 2: You wouldn't think that mission 2 would be all that challenging. Maybe not, if we had known what airline they were flying, which would indicate the terminal we needed to be at, and thus inform us of which wing of the terminal they would be transported to. Gut instinct told me Terminal B. We wound up and up through Terminal B parking garage with a most obvious sub-mission; find a parking space. The path led the Silver Bullet to nothing other than the deluged top level. Her first parking attempt was amazing, but only if we hadn't the need to get out of the car. Yeah, I thought the other cars would have trouble opening their doors, but it never occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to get out of my own car. (Blonde moment #97432.) Needless to say, the gut's the way to go. We were at the right terminal.

Mission 3: Driving out of Boston - I shake my fist at the bozo who thought the Big Dig would be a blessing. Blasted thing nearly killed us! I-93 N exit was rendered unaccessible and our mission was thwarted by a large Hummer stretch limo. I was only trying to turn left and evidently Rollo didn't get the memo that there were two turn lanes. I don't know what the big deal was...the Silver Bullet would has just bounced off of his precious Hummer without leaving as much as a scratch. You would have thought that I had just killed his weiner dog with the way he laid on his horn. The Silver Bullet safely crossed the intersection and was moving on with life as the drowned sound of horn echoed in its absence. No problem. We made it home in one piece.

Tribute: Candle Pin bowling is a new concept for me. "New," unfortunately, would not indicate skill. Since Adam and Lucas came to visit this weekend, we decided that a grand conclusion to our Friday would be with a humiliating game of candle pin. By humiliating I mean, Lucas was bowling a beautiful two pins, three frames in a row. The game came down to the final frame and Lucas was up. Trailing by four points, I pointed out that he would end dead last. What is it with men and competition?!? As soon as the words flowed from my lips, he peered over his left shoulder, practically ran to the line, and released the ball at full force.

Good game, Luc. You beat me by one point.