Travelogues

Buckle up for the bumpy ride

So we’re on vacation this week. We weren’t able to make our regular Christmas visit to Melanie’s family in Austin, Texas, because of the cost of airfare at the time (about $1,500 for three tickets), but a couple of weeks ago we saw the price had dropped to half that and we jumped at the chance. A big part of the reason is that I don’t know if I’ll get an actual vacation this summer, with the baby coming in July, so we should take it while we have the chance.

The flight was uneventful in the important ways and the kids were just great. Very little noise from either of them and no crying. It was also nice that the plane was half empty and we could spread out into two rows. Of course, it doesn’t mean that trip was completely smooth.

We had to rise before dawn on Saturday, which made for a long day, but both girls woke in a good mood. We’d been prepping Isabella for days that we were going to Texas on an airplane and her first words on waking were, “Are we going to the airplane to go to Texas?” My sister-in-law, who’s staying behind at the house unfortunately for her, drove us to the airport. But no sooner had she pulled away from the curb—after we’d piled out and stacked up the luggage—than we realized Bella had left her bag with her dolly and stuffed piggy in the car. I called my sis-in-law right away but she’d already got into the tunnel back to the city and then ended up getting lost on the city streets despite the GPS and it took about 20 minutes of anxious waiting for her to come back. Disaster averted.

Yes, the summers are very hot, but at least you don’t have to shovel the heat.

The TSA checkpoint was pretty smooth too, as they had set up a special line for those with small children and those who had bags of medications. New regulations allow you to bring as much children’s food and drink as you need, as long as you show it to them, which was just fine for us. We did have a small meltdown when Bella had to put her shoes and bag on the x-ray belt, but the TSA folks were as pleasant as I’ve seen them. I think it helps that it wasn’t Christmastime.

We got on the plane and into the air, and finally I started to relax a little. I ordered some nice hot Dunkin Donuts coffee that Jet Blue serves and was taking my first big sip when it went down the wrong pipe. Rather than cough a mouthful of hot coffee all over the seatback in front of me and the person in it, I tried to keep it in my mouth. Big mistake. That liquid had to go somewhere so instead it went up into my sinuses and out my nose all over me. I’m sure it looked as unpleasant as it felt. The rest of the day my singed sinuses felt like I’d run a Neti pot-ful of chlorinated pool water through my nose or that I’d just come off a weeklong sinusitis bender. Or both. Fun!

But any discomfort was more than balanced by landing and experiencing the balmy 70 degree weather in Austin. It was awesome. The older I get the more I think how nice it wold be to live here. Yes, the summers are very hot, but you don’t have to shovel the heat. Hmm, I wonder if Bishop Aymond needs someone to work in their development office. (Just kidding, boss!)

So what’s on tap this week? Reading, sitting outside, eating barbecue. And next Saturday is a fun blogger meetup with The Darwins, Jen of Conversion Diary, Betty Beguiles, Literacy-chic of Words, Words, the Opinionated Homeschooler, Dorian Speed of Scrutinies, and Rick Lugari, who seems to be everywhere in St. Blog’s these days, but is famed for his previous blogs De Civitate Dei and Musum Pontificalis. Whew! Oh, and about three dozen kids. I hope it’s nice weather and they can all be thrust outdoors otherwise it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Photo credit: Flickr.com user Fricke K. Used under a Creative Commons license.

Amy’s trip to Rome

Amy Welborn went to Rome during Thanksgiving week to visit her son, who is living there, and to be a primarily solo pilgrim. Her accounts are beautiful, of course, as are her photos, and they make me long to return to the Eternal City. I feel like a part of me will always reside in Rome.

Best to start with this post and read sequentially. At first, you’ll find her in-progress reports from Rome and then her post-trip, more considered reflections this week. A beautiful way to begin Advent.

Flying the barking skies

(I’ve been away the past four days at the International Catholic Stewardship Council conference in Chicago, but I didn’t post anything about it here for obvious reasons, i.e. Melanie and the girls being home alone.)

As I waited in the boarding area for my flight at O’Hare, I heard a yip-yip noise.

“Oh a child on my flight. Well, at Christmastime we’re that family so I can be patient.”

Then I heard more yipping.

“Wait, that’s no child. It’s a lap dog. On my flight. I hope they sit far away from me.”

Later as I board the plane:

“There’s the woman with the dog. Oh no, she’s near my row. … Oh NO. She’s. Sitting. Next. To. Me!”

In the end, the dog wasn’t that bad although I think some of the others on the flight overreacted. I could tell she was anxious because of the reaction of the people. She was nice, asked me if I had allergies, and wanted to sit in an empty row if the plane wasn’t full. (It was.) And there was some yapping, but not much overall.

Frankly, the Red Sox game was more distressing. That’s the funny part about flying Jet Blue into Boston when the Sox are playing in the playoffs. Nearly every seat-back TV was tuned to the game and every time Tampa Bay scored, there was an audible groan throughout the plane.

Wish I could have experience what it was like when they were winning.

3 Days, 3038 Photos

3 Days - 3,038 Photos from Robbie on Vimeo.

This is a fun video compiled from over 3,000 photos taken in a 3 day span in and around Boston. Nothing profound, but a very cool use of technology. Since this was taken with a digital SLR, the end result is effectively High Definition video, so click through to the Vimeo site for the full effect.

Welcome back farmer’s market, we missed you so

Click the thumbnails to see all the photos and click on “notes” to see the captions.

We went to our first farmer’s market of the season this morning, although it’s their second week. June in New England doesn’t see a whole lot available from the fields just yet and the market reflected that. There were lots of flowering plants as well as vegetable plants and herbs. Of course, there were also lots of strawberries as well as leafy greens like Swiss chard.

One reason we love this market is because some of the vendors have become so familiar to us. The lady from Crystal Brook Farms in Sterling, Mass., which produces wonderful goat cheeses, always remembers Isabella and dotes on her. This year she cooed over Sophia too. Next to her booth is always the lady from West River Creamery of Vermont, makers of delicious English-style cow’s milk cheeses.

The market also has food vendors, local restaurateurs who bring food down to sell to the crowds. The Thai restaurant, Sticky Rice, is a perennial and the owner is a friendly and popular family man who is always surrounded by his kids. New this year was Zaika, a new Indian restaurant in Marblehead. We got a combo platter from them of chicken tikka masala, chana masala (chick peas), a samosa, rice, and nan. My goodness, they must put crack in the food, it was so good. We were fighting over the right to mop up the last of the sauce with the nan.

The patrons are an interesting melange of stodgy WASPs and crunchy hippies, which is sometimes reflected in the eclectic mix of vendors. There’s always musical entertainment. Unfortunately, this week it consisted of some hippies who happened to be singing an anti-Catholic/anti-organized religion song while we passed by. I wonder if anti-Semitic or anti-Islamic sentiments would have been tolerated in this oh-so-liberal town. I think not.

Apart from that off-note, it was nice to have the farmer’s market back again, which has quickly become a sign of summer’s return. We’re going to miss it very much when we move.

The contrasts of spring

This is my idea of perfect weather. It’s just about 80 degrees, sunny with a slight breeze at the sun goes down. The ice cream shop across the street is bustling with families with small children, teens in little clusters, young men and women out for an evening. A mom and dad walk down the sidewalk pushing a stroller while an older couple in a bright yellow convertible VW Beetle stop at the intersection.

These are the spring evenings that make all the cold and dreariness of New England winters worthwhile. It’s the contrast that makes you appreciate it all the more. I’m sure places like Florida and Texas and Hawaii have their charms, but for my money the change of seasons is the number one reason to be a New Englander.

An end to vacation and the beginning of a new year

Since you’re reading this, obviously we made it home. Thankfully we made it without any glitches, as smooth as can be expected in these teams of Fort Knox-level security and bare-bones travel.

As usual, dealing with the people in Austin’s airport is miles apart from dealing with people at Boston’s Logan. They were warm, friendly, and helpful. Logan workers are often helpful (but not always) and usually polite, but rarely are they warm and open.

We were able to switch our seats to a completely open row near the rear of the airplane, so I could jump across the aisle and Isabella could have a seat to herself. It’s amazing the difference between flying in coach when it’s full and flying when you have room to breath. It’s nearly like flying business class. And while JetBlue doesn’t offer a meal, I do appreciate the constant flow of complimentary beverages, especially since you can’t carry anything through security. And you can carry sandwiches through (for now), which are better than any economy-class airline meal anyway.

You can see Isabella in that photo up there, sitting in her seat and watching “Finding Nemo”, which I had ripped to the hard drive to save battery power. (Don’t worry, I do own the DVD.) Consider that photo an abberation, however, as on this flight Isabella was much more apt to want to get out of the seat and go into the aisle. She had an uncanny ability to fall down or drop her sippy cup or doll just as someone was coming by to go to the lavatory.

As for me, I watched a Travel Channel marathon of Anthony Bourdain’s “No Reservations”, which it’s always entertaining to see someone consume what is to me looks disgusting (and based on his reaction probably is) and/or eat food that is so spicy as to make my eyes water, just watching him eat it.

My always helpful and ready-to-assist brother-in-law Pete picked us up at the airport, along with my nieces Kateri and Chiara, saving us $40 for a taxi. Thanks Pete!

And then home again, where I had to figure out how to turn on the new water heater the landlord had installed in our absence and turn up the heat and pull my car out of the garage and put it behind Melanie’s in the driveway and put the car seat back in her car and … the million things you do when you come home after being away for a bit more than a week. On tomorrow’s to-do list: Take down the Christmas tree and figure out whether the city disposal date has passed.

Of course, there always work tomorrow and dealing with the piles of paper and meeting requests and notes and emails that have inevitably gathered in my absence, no one obliging me by refusing to work while I’m gone. Such inconsideration. Still, it will be good to jump back in, especially since we’re going to be so busy the next few weeks.

I feel especially bad for my in-laws who will miss Isabella so much. And Isabella as she begins to realize they’re not here. She had grown so close to them in the past week that it was tough to take her away from them. The consolation is that we should see them again soon when Melanie has Sophia at the end of February. I have to say that they are so generous in bringing us down and treating us and showering Isabella with love and attention. As the first grandchild on Melanie’s side of the family, she’s spoiled, spoiled, but in the good way with love. And it gives us a little bit of break to have several sets of helping hands at the ready to feed her, distract her, take her outside to play, read her books, etc.

And so on to the next challenges: The birth of our new baby and then moving again later in the spring. There’s never a dull moment.

A great Mexican meal

Last night my mother-in-law took us out to dinner at an awesome authentically Mexican restaurant here in Austin called Fonda San Miguel. I wrote up my review of the experience at Yelp.com. (Not to be forgotten is my father-in-law who stayed home to babysit.)

The food was amazing, even if my entree was not the most exciting of them. Thankfully everyone likes to share. Melanie’s dish was the best, Chiles en Nogada, (a similar recipe is here), a Poblano chile stuffed with spiced pork shoulder and various fruits covered with a walnut sauce and pomegranate seeds. While it sounds a bit strange at first, the completed dish was sublime. My entree was a little more pedestrian but not any less delicious, a few lamp chops, grilled simply, with a side of chipotle-cheese potato casserole. My sister-in-law had duck enchiladas.

My recommendation is when you go to a nice restaurant, give preference to the specials, because the chef is (a) showing off his skills and (b) using what’s fresh and good from suppliers. Not at every place, mind you, since in some places the chef is merely clearing out his fridge, but in the good places.

After dinner we had great desserts and I had a very nice glass of Port, a Warre Otima 10-year-old, with which we raised a toast to J.R.R. Tolkien.

If you’re ever in Austin and want a wonderful Mexican meal, this is the place to go.

Let the vacating begin!

As is our usual custom, we’ve removed ourselves to Austin after Christmas for a visit with Melanie’s family. They’re fun folks and they just adore Isabella, plus the weather is always so much nicer than Boston at the turn of the year. Oh, and let’s not forget the barbecue and Tex-Mex.

We took an early morning flight on JetBlue, although thankfully they’ve moved it back about an hour later than it was last year. We still didn’t get off the ground until about 45 minutes because they had to (a) fix a door latch and (b) pump in some more gas to compensate for a headwind across the country.

Unfortunately that headwind increased our flight time from 4 hours to 4 hours and 45 minutes. Four hours on a full plane with a toddler was daunting; 4-1/4 seemed potentially disastrous. However, aside from a few moments of panic when Momma had to get up and use the lavatory (poor pregnant women and their “urgent need”), she did pretty well. I should have pulled out my laptop a lot earlier, because when I started playing “Finding Nemo” for her about an hour from the end of the flight, she was out like a light.

Meanwhile, I was watching the Discovery Channel marathon of “Man v. Wild”, which I’ve never seen before. What a great show! (I told Melanie that I have a “man crush” on the host, Bear Gryll. It’s nothing untoward, just means he’s so cool, I want to be his best friend.) If you’ve never seen it either, he’s a former British SAS who has also climbed Everest. At the beginning of each episode, he’s dropped into some wilderness with only a knife, a canteen, and a flint and steel, and he must survive until he walks back into civilization. It’s not completely reality, as he has a camera crew with him and they create certain scenarios to illustrate survival concepts, but he still has to get his own water and food and make his own shelter.

Anyway, once we landed, Granddad was waiting for us in the terminal. As soon as we got home, she rushed out into the backyard where he showed her how to gather up pecans from the ground. That’s them in the photo up there.

With all the attention she’s going to get over the next week from her aunt and uncles and grandparents, how will we ever take her back home?

Next week some time, Melanie has arranged a meet-up with other Catholic bloggers in the Austin area, so that should be lots of fun. Other than that, we have no agenda but to relax and have fun.

More snow foibles

To update from yesterday, we ended up with nearly a foot of snow on the ground, but the worst part was what it did to the commute. Not everyone was a prescient as me — ahem, I left at noon — and by the time people were leaving work around 2, the snow was already sticking and creating a mess. It was the commute from hell for many people.

My poor sister was traveling from Norwood to Peabody—a journey that normally takes about an hour without traffic—with her 4 kids and husband and while they started at 1 pm they didn’t get home until after 6 and perhaps almost 7. Some folks at work who didn’t leave early were still stuck there as late as 8 pm.

On the other hand, I breezed right home even faster than usual and the snow only started sticking just as I got a few miles from home.

Anyway, this morning on my way in to work I noticed a few more characteristic foibles of New Englanders in the snow, mind-boggling behaviors that make you wonder what they’re thinking. For one thing, I saw people using snow blowers to blast snow out into the street as cars are driving by. For one thing, it obscures their vision. For another, it undoes the plowing, making the street slick and difficult to drive on.

Then there are the people who are too much in a hurry to take the snow off their cars. I have seen people literally dig out portholes in the front and back windows and driver’s and passenger’s windows, leaving everything else covered, including headlights, taillights, and directional signals. Not to mention the eight-inch-thick slab of snow on the roof that comes flying off in one great mass as soon as the rocket scientists hits highway speeds.

Driving in to work this morning, I saw cars entombed on the side of the road, cars abandoned in the middle of the street, folks walking on heavily traveled byways because the sidewalks were covered and more.

A few years ago, after an even bigger storm, my car got stuck in a snow bank because some coffee-junky parked his Subaru Outback on a narrow corner of a barely plowed street outside a Starbucks, forcing me to swing wide and into an unplowed abyss.

Wow, I don’t usually start getting this antsy about snow stupidity until sometime in February. I must be getting old. I should move to Texas.

Dutch priest, French saint, Texas BBQ

What fun! Fr. Roderick Vonhogen, the Dutch priest behind the Catholic podcast network SQPN was in Austin this weekend for a young adult conference. And today he was to con-celebrate Mass and be the homilist at Melanie’s home parish, St. Louis King of France Parish.

Since we couldn’t be there, I told Melanie’s mom, Pat, about it (and that Fr. Roderick called the choir—which she’s in—excellent) so she met him at Mass and went out with him and a group for breakfast afterward (or lunch, since it was a BBQ place). Pretty cool. I look forward to hearing his impressions in his next Daily Breakfast podcast. Especially what he thought of the Mass at St. Louis, with the dozen altar servers and all the beauty and pageantry possible in a Mass of the Ordinary Use.

My mother-in-law sounded like she had a good time too and was favorably impressed with Father’s homily. Darn, missed opportunities. Living vicariously through my mom-in-law.

Roadside digital mural will lead to accidents

That image is the new headquarters of WGBH, the public broadcasting powerhouse that originates in Boston. The building sits next to the Massachusetts Turnpike in Brighton, and in fact, juts out over the highway. Over the past few months they’ve been doing some work on the side of the building and just this week switched on a giant “digital mural,” which the rest of us would call a TV billboard. To be sure, this isn’t broadcasting TV shows, but it is showing moving images.

Does anyone else think this is a bad idea? I drive this route every day and yesterday was the first day it was switched on. There’s a straight stretch of highway headed eastbound just before it, about a half mile long. That thing is jumping and moving and is distraction from the road. How long before the first accidents caused by driver distraction? Didn’t anyone think about this?

I’m also worried about the trend. How long before regular billboards are replaced by jumping and moving video images designed to distract even more? Do-gooders are trying to ban cell-phone use while driving. Is that more distracting than a video billboard?

Whatever the intent, this is just more visual pollution and a road hazard.

P.S. Last week, while they were testing it, the mural was displaying a gigantic yards tall and wide Microsoft Windows error message. I wish I’d photographed it. I can’t wait for the first blue screen of death.

Photo by Jeff Goldberg/Boston Herald

Latin in Maine and the Boston-LA connection

I feel like we’ve driven 500 miles this past weekend. Not quite but not far off either. In fact we drove more than 330 miles, first to Maine and then home, then to Newport, Rhode Island, then to a little town in Connecticut and home again. Poor Isabella started squawking every time I tried to put her back in the car.

Of course, it was all worth it in the end because we visited my mom and my sister at their house in Windham, Maine; attended the Mass in the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Missal at the cathedral in Portland; traveled to Newport, Rhode Island to meet up with Karen Hall and drive with her to Connecticut for lunch at the home of the parents of Barbara Nicolosi.

Maine and the Mass of Bl. John XXIII

Let’s start at the top. We headed to Maine on Saturday morning, making good time by avoiding the Friday night rush. first stopped by a farm stand that had some animals out for petting, including a llama that took a liking to Isabella’s hair. Then we took a jaunt by a park and then picked up some lobsters. (Only the second ones I’d had all summer.) On Sunday, my mom wanted to go out for breakfast before Mass, but miscalculated on how long it would take on the holiday weekend and we missed our Mass. Our only other options were the ExtraForm Mass at Immaculate Conception Cathedral at noon or a Spanish Mass at St. Dominic’s at 12:15. Now, mind you Isabella had very little nap the day before, did not get a full night’s sleep that night and now had not had a nap yet.

I was afraid we were on the edge of a full-blown cranky child meltdown. To top it off, I was dressed for a vacation-weekend Mass, not a ExtraForm Mass (i.e. I wasn’t wearing a suit or tie). On the other hand, a Spanish Mass was likely to be a whole lot longer. So we went to my first Mass of the Extraordinary Form of the Missal of Bl. John XXIII.

What did I think?, you’re asking. Um, it was long. And quiet. Yes, I know a low Mass is not necessarily a good first introduction, but my main impression was that I understand the desire for authentic reform. The fact that the prayers were said inaudibly bugged me. Yes, I know I can sort of follow along in a missal (if I’d had one), but only in an approximate “He’s probably saying this prayer now” sense. Certainly, there was plenty of reverence and I was impressed by the precision shown by the altar boys. I didn’t catch the name of the priest who celebrated the Mass, but he was very elderly and when he spoke in English he spoke. Very. Slowly. But when he prayed in Latin hespokeveryrapidly. The homily was a half hour if it was a minute, which is unfortunate because he could have said what he did in 20 minutes if he didn’t. Speak. So. Slowly.

So we went to my first Mass of the Extraordinary Form of the Missal of Bl. John XXIII.

Okay, maybe that’s not fair, since what he did say was pretty good if a bit heavy-handed. Um, Catholics weren’t actually the first people in the New World. I believe that honor goes to the Indians. I think he meant that Catholics were the first Europeans in the New World, not Protestants. And I think Father should have written his homily down beforehand because it was quite clearly stream-of-consciousness and off the cuff, going on until he ran out of things to say.

In the end, I’m glad the Extraordinary Form of the Mass is available and I’m glad that Pope Benedict gave us the motu proprio. But I’m fairly certain that it’s not something I would want on a regular basis, not in that form. Oh and we did not have a child meltdown. Melanie did take her out during part of the homily, changed her diaper in the car, gave her a piece of bagel, and when she brought her back the homily was still going on.

Newport and Connecticut and Karen and Barbara

So today, we got up bright and early to head down to Newport. I’d got wind on Karen’s blog that she was going to be in the area (and Rhode Island counts as “in the area” for people from Boston) and asked if she’d be available for lunch during her visit. Somehow we ended up invited to Barbara’s family’s house for lunch and off we went. We met Karen and Barbara and Barbara’s sister at Karen’s hotel. (They were only 15 minutes late; Sorry, Karen, couldn’t resist.) Unfortunately, I’d missed Karen’s last message which told me to call her to get directions directly to Barbara’s family’s house in Connecticut. But it was a nice country drive anyway.

We had a great time chatting, although between Barbara and Karen (and Barbara’s mom, who’s a real pistol!), I’m not sure I got more than a few dozen words in the whole time. Of course, Melanie and I were constantly having to chase Isabella who managed to destroy only one breakable during the visit. (I’m still cringing.)

Nevertheless, I had great fun listening to them talk about Hollywood and the crazy people they meet and the bizarreness that is the Archdiocese of Los Angeles. We also started making plans for a St. Blog’s Parish Retreat (I just made that up right here) and started a list of the people who have to come. Of course, we talked about blogging and other Catholic bloggers; I’m sure more than a few ears were burning out there.

Our visit ended all too soon, but I’m hopeful we can see Karen in October when she’s supposed to swing through Boston itself.

The great thing about this gathering was how quickly we felt right at home. Being an orthodox Catholic is a small enough fraternity sometimes, but being a St. Blog’s blogger is an even smaller one so you feel an instant affinity and comfort when you meet. It was quite amazing, but maybe not so when you consider what amazing people Karen and Barbara are.

I was also quite pleased by a very nice gift Karen gave me of a first draft script of an episode of “Jericho” she wrote last season. She’d remembered me saying that it was one of my favorite new shows of the season and brought it along. She also brought an only slightly embarrassing photo of one of the stars of “Heroes” taken at a New Year’s Party at his house.

Incidentally, Karen has a very interesting perspective on the intramural Church wars and how she can be friends with Catholic folks she thinks are completely off-the-wall theologically. I’m thinking more about what she said and will have to mull it for some time. Food for thought.

What’s your local fave place to eat?

New York foodie Ed Levine was just waxing poetic about local faves, those places you go for authentic local food and he highlights a candidate in Mattapoisett, Massachusetts, called Oxford Creamery.

Meanwhile, last night I watched the latest episode of Alton Brown’s show “Feasting on Asphalt 2: The River Run,” in which he stopped at a local roadhouse in Illinois for some ridiculously inexpensive, high quality food.

That got me to thinking about my local faves, although I think I need to define what that is. Launching from Levine’s springboard, I will advance the completely arbitrary definition of a local fave as a local place that serves good, home-style food at a low cost and where you’ll find primarily local folks being served by a (generally) happy and welcoming staff. Even better if it’s not a place that’s ever been written up in a bestselling book about food and restaurants, featured in a magazine’s “best-of”, or lauded in a TV show.

The no-chains rule eliminates the first one that comes to mind for me: Kelly’s Roast Beef. Kelly’s is a Boston tradition, starting with a single outlet on Revere Beach, selling, well, roast beef, but ironically more famous for the fried clams. But over the past decade or so, they’ve opened up several quite slick locations around Boston, so I have to eliminate them from my list.

On the other hand, the Clam Box in Ipswich would qualify, except I’m pretty sure they’ve been featured in plenty of best-of books and magazines. Likewise for Woodman’s in Essex. No, I think I have to get even more local.

And I think I need to add another qualification and this is bound to be controversial: a local fave needs to serve more than one meal, and perhaps must serve breakfast. Arbitrary, maybe, but I think that it’s a sign that the establishment is truly a part of the local fabric because it meets a variety of needs.

So who does make the list? In Salem, I think Red’s fits the bill. Yes, yes, I know, Red’s has won “Best of Boston” and similar awards on a consistent basis, but you have to go there to see why it must be included. The place opens at an ungodly hour, like 5 am or something, to serve early rising workers or outdoorsmen. It has counter service. The menu is a slice of Americana, serving all the comfort food you can imagine and nothing exotic. While tourists come in, it’s a place that locals frequent. And it’s been there forever.

Moving outside of Salem, I would also nominate Chute’s in Windham, Maine. My mom and my sister live in Windham and whenever we’re up there, we stop at Chute’s after Sunday Mass. It’s a small, local place with friendly waitresses who call you hon’ and serve fresh-baked muffins and pies and you feel like you’ve stepped back in time. And it’s not going to be featured in any travel magazines.

So am I off-base? Should the definition of “local fave” be expanded? Am I being too picky and parochial? What’s your local fave?

A day in the sun

The nice thing about working for the Church is that holy days of obligations are days off. So after going to Mass on Wednesday, I’m going to spend the day with family and friends.

My friend Andy—who’s been living in Louisiana the last couple of years working as youth and music minister for a couple of parishes—is back in town for vacation so a bunch of us are taking off for the day to Bradley Palmer State Park in Ipswich. It’s a bucolic little park, not very close to anything and not much besides trails inside…

Except, a very nice wading pool for kids. This place is great. There’s several features that throw water in various directions; it’s fenced in so that kids can’t wander too far; there are picnic tables and grills; and while it’s always packed—especially on near-90 days like Wednesday promises to be—it’s never overwhelming, at least on weekdays when everyone else has to be working.

I’m very excited because I haven’t been able to see Isabella at the pool this year and Melanie says she’s taken to it like, well, a fish to water if you’ll excuse the cliche.

Speaking of Isabella, she’s had a cute little episode the other day when she found my old belt and wanted to wear it like I do. So I wrapped it around her several times and latched it. It still hung down like a cowboys gunbelt, but she was very happy with her fashion statement and spent quite some time staring at herself in the floor-length mirror and laughing uproariously.

Here’s the video of it: