Calling All Cars...

Has anyone seen my husband? I lost him somewhere around Christmas and this crazy-looking bearded guy has been following me around ever since. It's weird. He's weird. If you see Kent tell him to come home...his wife is waiting.
Of course, Kent won't be home until Friday night because he ditched me to go to some "training" thing for work. I was okay with it when I pictured him crammed into an uncomfortable hotel room, sharing a twin bed with five of the geekiest computer geeks PWC managed to uncover. Now that I know he has a room all to himself with a day filled with truly motivational speaking, complete with pay-per-view movies, I'm thinking it sounds a lot like a vacation away from his heart-broken wife. You should be ashamed of yourself Kent, truly ashamed.

However, I figured I would make good use of all this free and quiet time to stage a blog comeback and regain some ownership of this little slice of the interwebs, which, for the record, was created by the one and only Mellificent herself...ME. I do realize that I can never be quite as witty and entertaining as Kent as I just don't have that same ability to grow facial hair and pretend mullets are cool. And let it be written, Mullets are NOT cool on any level, not one. So now I accept my fate as the lowly Kent factual updater. This means that while Kent can be "colorful" and write posts around any subject he chooses, I will grant the wide wide world the pleasure of a glimpse into our exciting lives in the fast lane.

We were in bed at midnight on New Year's Eve. Granted we were still awake, but in bed nonetheless. We actually spent the 2 1/2 hours prior to the stroke of midnight wandering around downtown Boston trying to feel "festive." The original plan was to go downtown to revel in the revelries and then make our way to the water's edge for a fantastic firework display. We began the evening with a little swing-dancing instruction where Kent proved he did in fact have a right and a left foot. I tried to con him into dance lessons before the wedding and he wouldn't have any of it but I think he may have been bitten by the jitter-bug. Hey, corny jokes are still jokes.

Following our warm-up we headed out to the streets and took a lovely evening stroll down Boylston Street with all the other party-goers. I think whoever discovered the method to mass producing plastic horns should be cruelly and unusually punished. I thought that horrible noise would be less horrible outside, but I was quickly set straight. Despite the obnoxious noise makers we were able to enjoy the ice sculptures in Copley Square and continued on toward Boston Common. Instead of grazing cattle, the Common is now home to all the public parties Boston has to offer, so I guess you can say it's still used for grazing cattle. Kent complains that I never "offer" to take pictures of him, but why bother when he refuses to smile and look charming?

No walk-around-Boston is complete without a stop at Faneuil Hall. When we took these photos we had already decided that we would risk missing out on the fireworks in order to miss the large crowds on the T-ride home. If you look closely you can see the throngs moving towards the harbor to scout out their seats. So we enjoyed a quiet, and mostly empty train ride home, followed by Kent challenging me to a race home (silly Kent, he should know better), not to mention we still made it home in time to watch Dick Clark struggle through 3 sentences. I think it's time to let that poor man drift gracefully from the spotlight.

I do hope you all enjoyed the holidays as much as we did. And I wish you good luck with your resolutions. I made a resolution years ago never to make resolutions and I must say, I've never been more successful at anything.