Bienvenido a Miami
It is hot. Hot hot hot. Most likely because Adam and I are in Miami Beach for the long weekend. And even with AC this place is hot. Makes me reconsider my threat to move back here if the winters in Boston don't get any better. I don't have much to report because we just got here last night. Had breakfast this morning with my cousins Harold and Deena (Deena, let me know when I'm allowed to link to your blog) at Van Dyke, which was good but I couldn't have my favorite brie sandwich, because brie is on the no-no list. Now, Adam is advising my parents on computer stuff--my father needs help with WiFi and my mother's CD-ROM is stuck. You can tell this will be an exciting weekend. Amazing that just a few short years ago my mother was a complete technophobe and now she has the most sophisticated computer system of anyone in the Brown/Brown-Medros family.
The airport was a mob scene yesterday because of the holiday, but I have to wonder if the lines weren't increased because of the orange alert. It didn't feel any more secure than usual but then, to me, Logan Airport always seems to be in the midst of chaos. We got there in what I thought was plenty of time--we were there at 4:45 for a 5:50 flight. And we used miles to upgrade to first class (my CWITness shines through; I adore flying first class) so we were in a shorter line, yet it was still reallllllly loooong. So at 4:55, they came through and grabbed everyone for the Miami flight and we went to the head of the line. Ditto for the security line. So of course, we ended up at the gate a full fifteen minutes before they started boarding. I can't figure out why the mad rush so long before the flight left. Brown Brown either really loves or really hates flying, because he was just poke-poke-poking away the entire trip down. Some were a little fierce. We got in at about 10ish and we stayed up talking with my parents till just after midnight, which is way past when my mother wanted to go to sleep but she didn't want to go to bed for fear of "missing out on something good." Like we were going to discover the cure for cancer the moment she went to bed.
To completely mangle Tolstoy, every weird family is weird in its own way, and mine is no different. You have to be alert for a visit to the Brown household--it's not for the faint of heart. I'm not sure the weirdness translates well to blog, so I won't even try, but visiting is always an adventure (okay, here's an example: right now my mother said, "When we die, they can just have those photos." But Peter said, "But she's got to know where to find them." Carol: "Well, that's half the fun. She'll get to search the apartment looking for them." Peter: "What? You want to die in this apartment? Don't you want to die somewhere better? I hope we're not still in this place when we die." Carol: "It's better than dying in the streets." Peter: "Not if it's Broadway. I wouldn't mind dying on Broadway."). I will note that my father made sure to collect his dollar from a bet we made three years ago (he had the date the bet was up in his calendar). During downspin of Amazon's wild ride, I had hopes for the stock. "It'll hit 70 again," I said. Peter said, "It will not hit 70 in the next year. In fact, not in the next two years. Not even in three years. I'll bet you ten to one odds that the stock does not hit 70 within the next three years." The bet came due last week. And even though I pointed out he was taking food from Brown Brown's mouth, he collected.
The airport was a mob scene yesterday because of the holiday, but I have to wonder if the lines weren't increased because of the orange alert. It didn't feel any more secure than usual but then, to me, Logan Airport always seems to be in the midst of chaos. We got there in what I thought was plenty of time--we were there at 4:45 for a 5:50 flight. And we used miles to upgrade to first class (my CWITness shines through; I adore flying first class) so we were in a shorter line, yet it was still reallllllly loooong. So at 4:55, they came through and grabbed everyone for the Miami flight and we went to the head of the line. Ditto for the security line. So of course, we ended up at the gate a full fifteen minutes before they started boarding. I can't figure out why the mad rush so long before the flight left. Brown Brown either really loves or really hates flying, because he was just poke-poke-poking away the entire trip down. Some were a little fierce. We got in at about 10ish and we stayed up talking with my parents till just after midnight, which is way past when my mother wanted to go to sleep but she didn't want to go to bed for fear of "missing out on something good." Like we were going to discover the cure for cancer the moment she went to bed.
To completely mangle Tolstoy, every weird family is weird in its own way, and mine is no different. You have to be alert for a visit to the Brown household--it's not for the faint of heart. I'm not sure the weirdness translates well to blog, so I won't even try, but visiting is always an adventure (okay, here's an example: right now my mother said, "When we die, they can just have those photos." But Peter said, "But she's got to know where to find them." Carol: "Well, that's half the fun. She'll get to search the apartment looking for them." Peter: "What? You want to die in this apartment? Don't you want to die somewhere better? I hope we're not still in this place when we die." Carol: "It's better than dying in the streets." Peter: "Not if it's Broadway. I wouldn't mind dying on Broadway."). I will note that my father made sure to collect his dollar from a bet we made three years ago (he had the date the bet was up in his calendar). During downspin of Amazon's wild ride, I had hopes for the stock. "It'll hit 70 again," I said. Peter said, "It will not hit 70 in the next year. In fact, not in the next two years. Not even in three years. I'll bet you ten to one odds that the stock does not hit 70 within the next three years." The bet came due last week. And even though I pointed out he was taking food from Brown Brown's mouth, he collected.
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