James and I are in New England with my mom, visiting my grandparents (both sides). This is pretty much what I've been doing, holding the baby. He's feeling a little lost without his brothers. He's responded to that sense of loss by nursing every twenty-three minutes around the clock. You might be able to imagine that my one allowed cup of coffee is laughably inadequate.
Yesterday it was in the fifties and there was a blanket of snow on everything. It was beautiful, BUT ALSO WARM, and I was ready to move to a Quaint New England town where we could walk to a Quaint New England Church on Sunday and the kids could go to a Quaint Elementary School and we would all wear sweaters until mid-June. But today is in the upper twenties and the lady at the restaurant where I had lunch, when asked if the snow was expected on Sunday night or Monday night, waved her hand dismissively and said "I don't know, but it's only going to be four or five inches." This is not the place for me. At least not in the winter.
James says "I'm a Texan!"
We're having a great time visiting my family whom we usually only get to see in the summer (when it's *ONLY* a hundred-and-five at my house). All four of my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Today while driving from New Hampshire to Massachusetts we saw a sign for this place and it was so funny we had to try it out.
You guys. If you ever find yourself in Methuen, Mass, do yourself a favor and GO TO THE ROYAL HOUSE OF ROAST BEEF. It's in a shopping center between a Dunkin Donuts and a liquor store. Methuen, Mass I think I love you.
We're on Cape Cod now, enjoying time with maternal grandparents and aunts and uncles. Tomorrow night it's back to Boston for the night and then our flight home. Our flight shouldn't be a problem, we're *ONLY* expecting four or five inches of snow!