It's Me, Sara Louise

I wish there was some drama, some tension or interesting tidbit about their meeting that I could write about but there isn’t. They liked each other immediately.

It was easy, a quick handshake that turned into a hug (The Boyfriend suppressed his inner Frenchness and avoided the double cheek kiss, even though I could tell he was about to lean into it) and you could see they were buddies.

Maybe they felt an instant connection because they both love me (loving me isn’t always easy, sometimes it’s like cuddling a porcupine), some sort of mutual understanding of the daily strife of being a man in my life bonding them. Or perhaps they were scared of my wrath if they didn’t get along.

Either way, it was all very easy and stress free. The Boyfriend had bought Dad a French soccer jersey and he seemed to love it. They drank beer and watched college basketball. Woopdidoo.

And now for the cliff notes of the rest of our trip (It’s Easter and I’ve got chocolate bunnies to eat and a puppy to dye pink – joking… about the bunnies, I’m not really a chocolate person. If it was a cheese bunny, then OK).

Moving on…

We borrowed my Step Mom’s mini van and headed to New York for two days to see some friends. I can’t remember why but the mini van (which The Boyfriend drove like he’s a mini van driver, you know what I’m saying? ) was christened ‘the Disco Van’. For the whole week it was only referred to as, Disco Van. And since our return, The Boyfriend walks around dazed at times mumbling, “Have you seen my Disco Van?” He really liked it. So much so that on a sunny afternoon, we cruised down Main St in Great Barrington, windows down, singing ‘Ladies Night’ at the top of our lungs. The Boyfriend loves ‘The Funk’ (for the record, I never say, ‘The Funk’, he does.)

We drove to New York and the GPS took us off the Taconic Parkway through back country roads passing signs commemorating Revolutionary War skirmishes. This is funny… You know how I’m always going on about how creepy Le Petit Village is being a medieval village built on top of a Roman trading town? Well The Boyfriend who has no problem with this was completely creeped out by the Colonial vibe of western Mass and upstate New York. He kept waiting to see some musket carrying red coat or a tomahawk wielding Daniel Day Lewis jump out behind the trees. I just laughed at him and called him a big girl. Because he is.

In New York, we caught up with friends, and visited all my early teen haunts. Where to go for lunch… the Diner.. duh. Many a high school evening was spent passing time in a diner, four girls picking at one plate of disco fries (possibly the inspiration of the Disco Van) with unlimited coffee refills (didn’t do much sleeping in high school).

Two trips to the diner; disco fries, clam strips, and Bloody Marys. Move over Wheaties, there’s a new champion in town.

Dunkin Donuts, large ice coffees, bottles and bottles of Fifty Cent’s Vitamin water (he is Fifty’s namesake after all) to rehydrate after too many martini, wine and four hour sleep nights (the stuff works I’m telling ya). And of course, Starbucks. The trip was basically about mass consumption of liquids. Somebody had to pee real bad at all times.

Shopping; buying too many books at Barnes and Nobles (not smart, damn heavy in the luggage), chasing down all the OXO Pop Grip containers at Kohls, a tour de Walmart, and laughing at The Boyfriend being in genuine aw of everything he encountered; low prices, nice shop assistants, smiling people.

Big Sis is an Acupuncturist so we got to torture The Boyfriend and stick needles in him. This was definitely a trip highlight.

Check out his face in the first pic. She’s not even sticking a needle in him yet. Such a girl.

Shameless plug time… if you ever find yourself in Eastern NY or Western Massachusetts, stop into Steady Hands Acupuncture and have some needles stuck into you. Just tell them Sara Louise sent you.

Discovering one of the greatest candy shops ever, and watching The Boyfriend buy my friend’s little boy everything he pointed at. The Boyfriend’s biological clock is thumping.