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Sara

I guess you don't get to choose your adventures every time.

We went to Massachusetts this weekend. If I averaged the experiences of our weekend, it would come to a B-.

We had a nice drive down and a bunch of fun with our cousins at lunch and at their first party in their new house. Lunch was in town at a new restaurant owned by a friend of theirs. Since they are well-known there, we felt especially welcome. It was one of the coziest experiences I have had at a restaurant. These cousins of ours also throw great parties. Their friends are kind and friendly people, their love of cooking make preparations part of the festivities, and they keep a well-stocked bar. I had an enlightening conversation with one of their neighbors, whose name I will shame-facedly admit to having forgotten, about teaching in private high schools. Another option opens up to me.

While everyone was outside socializing around the cooking meat, I sat inside and caught up on some reading. That was also nice.

We went into Harvard Square where I enjoyed tea at my favorite tea shop. I bought some to take home with me. Of course I can order from the website but I was there and it was a more full experience that way. (www.tealuxe.com, by the way)

At sunset (8pm or so) we drove to a post-Sabbath party at a friend's home. This friend is an Orthodox Jew. My husband and I are not a religious couple. I knew we were in for an interesting time. I had no idea I would feel more uncomfortable that ever I have before. I was dressed inappropriately (my legs from the knees down and my hair (on my head) were showing) and no one spoke to me for more than a sentence or two, and that was the Rabbi. No one shook my hand and none of the women interacted with me at all. I am not surprised by any of this.

We were supposed to stay the night there but agreed that, as much as we felt like fish out of water, we'd feel drowned if we stayed for the entire party and through the evening. It was a hot Saturday night. There was no air conditioning in that apartment, making the thought of wearing long pajamas to maintain propriety, on its own, nearly enough to bring on heat exhaustion. We called the person who was house- and cat-sitting for us to warn him that we were headed home.

When travelling between Burlington, Vermont and Boston, Massachusetts it is best to pass through part of New Hampshire. The state motto there is "Live Free or Die." It's on their license plates. Some of the freedoms that are part of life in New Hampshire include no laws requiring auto insurance or prohibiting the sale of fireworks, no sales tax, and liquor is available for sale on Sunday. The Massachusetts police patrol the border to deal with the fireworks situation. To capitalize on their freedoms (is that a contradiction?), there are two New Hampshire State Liquor stores just past the border of Massachusetts (where it is illegal on Sundays to sell alcohol.) There is one on either said of the highway. They are identical and huge. I've seen smaller supermarkets.

These New Hampshire state liquor stores for the oppressed tippler share their well-lit parking lots with very nice rest stops for the weary traveller. We stopped for a nap at about 1 A.M. and set out again at 2:30. We arrived home at 5 and went to bed directly. We woke at 11 A.M. and my huband went back to sleep until 2 in the afternoon.

Last night we saw "Chicken Run" and laughed hard.

Ahh, sweet adventure.


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