The Computer Works! Thank God.

And we're back from the East Coast. Here's a snapshot of the trip:

Tuesday night: Run to the airport immediately after work to discover our flight to Boston has just been delayed two additional hours. Have completed full day at florist shop in new position: packager. While the two floral designers and my fellow newbie-slash-23 year old superior (oh, the humiliations never end) made arrangements for 8.5 hours straight, I wrapped eggplant-colored tissue paper around one ornament flower arrangement after the next. And passed them off to our drivers. Who I now also consider my superiors, due to the fact that I can't apply for their positions even if I wanted to as I don't know the city of Milwaukee from the town of Hoboken, New Jersey. My status as lowly bucket cleaner and packager continues.

Later that evening: 12:45 AM, Logan International Airport.

Abbey: Hi Dad, we've just landed in Boston. Where are you guys?
Dad: What? You're on the plane! You didn't leave yet!
Abbey: Is this a joke? I'm standing next to the baggage claim and our suitcase is the size of a Saint Bernard. Where are you?
Dad: I'm at home. The computer said you were still on the plane!
Abbey: That's a hilarious joke, Dad. [Pause] Where are you?
Dad: I'm at home.
Abbey: I know you're joking.
Dad: I'm not joking.
Abbey: This isn't funny.
Dad: It's not a joke.
Abbey: Yes it is!
Dad: Nope.
Abbey: Where are you?
Dad: Abbey, I am lying in my bed.
Silence some more.
And some more.
Dad: We're getting in the car now.

Jon and I get in a taxi with a lovely older gentleman who drives us to the Route 118 Amtrak station, where my parents meet us. Outside? 2 feet of snow. It's the latest night all four of us have probably had in years. Bedtime is 2:00 AM in Rehoboth.

Wednesday: Visit with family and dear friends, including a way-out-of-towner visiting from Cambodia! Wrap presents. 15 high school friends show up at the house and we eat spaghetti dinner and drink too much wine.

Christmas Eve: Buy last minute present and make homemade eggnog (with Aunt Ida's recipe, courtesy of my old boss at Van Wyck) in preparation for Taboo challenge later that evening. See more family and my 92 year old grandfather in the hospital (got the pneumonia, but thankfully feeling better; I offered to open his presents for him). Return to fierce competition of Taboo and Apples to Apples. The Non-Barretts (of which I am told I am now a part - me, Jon, James and Joiners) beat the Barretts. Burn!

Christmas: Presents and brunch, including wedding cake, which Jon and I did not get to eat back in May. Tastes like a real Reese's peanut butter cup! Pack up and train it after lunch to N-Y-C to see Jon's mother and sister. More presents and sushi!

Saturday: Off to Jon's hometown of Monticello to visit expectant parent friends. Discover pregnant mother-to-be is approximately 42 pounds lighter than me with thighs the size of number 2 pencils. Stomach appears to be a basketball placed under a tee shirt. Touch belly to confirm baby Charlotte is under there. Yes, she is. Inform Jon the supermodel pregnancy will not be occurring at our house, as the laws of gravity and too-much-buttered-popcorn make it impossible. He laughs in ignorant bliss. I shudder, imagining his future (parents, re-read that word) moment of realization: me, 9 months pregnant in the bathroom, dressed in hippo-sized elastic granny undies with a rear end the size of a 32" widescreen television and a stomach harboring a raft of gaseous Cuban fugitives. Not good.
Dinner and much laughter ensues. Baby does not arrive during our tenure, sadly.

Sunday: Go Giants! Oh, wait. Suck it, Giants! Worst showing ever. Last game in the old Giants stadium and the fans spend the majority of it booing. Almost get in pre-game fistfight with parking lot neighbors over illegally saved parking space. Offer Coronas as peace offering. Invited to their post-game barbecue as an apology. Leave at third quarter and sprint out to sushi dinner. Jon's dad consumes 39 pieces of sushi as part of the "all you can eat" sushi package at Ozen. Restaurant quietly puts his photo on a do-not-serve list. Head downtown to Beauty Bar to see friends and family one last time, including sister who surprises us from Massachusetts!

Monday: Pain. Exhaustion. Arise at 4:00 AM to get to airport in anticipation of full body cavity search thanks to firework terrorist. Instead, find a taped piece of paper to the ticket counter stating fireworks are no longer allowed on plane. I feel safe.
Take plane ride seated two rows ahead of obnoxious 17 month old child who yells (not cries) repeatedly throughout the entire flight for no reason other than to show off her baby teeth. Mother placates child by giving her soda at 7:30 AM. Woman, please do not procreate again.
Arrive, collect suitcase which is now the size of a SmartCar, and get dropped off immediately at work. Stand on feet for next 8.5 hours, eat dinner and commence sleep at 8:30 PM.

And welcome back.

P.S. PC's past the 100 post mark! Woo hoo!


  1. Deep Burn. Glad I finally got a shout out. Now that's comment worthy.

  2. Wooo! I made it in too! GREAT SUCCESS!