Baby's First Blizzard

Just in time for 2011, the family and I are back in Austin from a two-week holiday trip to New England to visit Kate's family. Alex and I had the added pleasure of experiencing our first blizzard together. The well-insulated residents of Worcester, Mass. don't consider 12 inches to be a lot of snow, but it was far more than I've ever seen in a 24-hour period. Although we didn't have a proper sledding device, Kate improvised nicely with string and a plastic bin so Alex could have an approximated sleigh ride. I don't think he knew quite what to make of it.

Hitler Blows Top Over Mass. Senate Race

Boy, I haven't seen Hitler this angry since the Cowboys lost to the Giants in the NFC divisional playoffs back in '07.

Tufts Attempts to Rescue the Sexiled

Don't even think about hanging a sock on the door at Tufts University. Following an uptick in complaints from sexiled roomies, the Medford, Mass. institution has banned sex in campus dorm rooms when a roommate is present.

Call me old-fashioned, but it seems awfully nannyish for a university to enact such a reactionary, far-reaching policy. If one of my dormmates was in flagrante, I either found someplace else to go or put a pillow over my head. A c-block would've been downright unbromanly, especially when my own bouts of alcohol-fueled stupidity were every bit as disruptive as whatever furtive groping took place on the other side of the room.

It is difficult for me to fathom the apparent trauma that writer (and Tufts alum) J. Bruce Daley inflicted upon his roommate by having sex in his presence.

"I will never forget the look on my roommate's face the next morning," Daley regretfully recounts. "I could see that he felt is privacy had been violated...He transferred schools after our freshman year and has spent the rest of his life living in Asia."

Asia? Dude, you could've just gone to the study lounge!

Of course, I never had to share a room with a steady couple that copulated like jackrabbits at all hours. I can see how that would become a problem requiring intervention from residential advisors, but if two ostensibly adult roommates can't work it out amongst themselves, why should dorm sex be handled differently than any other untenable living situation?

Bewitched in Salem

Forget Witch Trials ephemera and the House of Seven Gables. The thing I most enjoyed seeing on our day trip to Salem, Mass. last week was the Bewitched statue. Upon reaching it, I immediately whipped out the Olympus (not a euphemism, folks) and made Kate pose like a tourist. After token resistance, she complied.

The statue is one of several placed by TV Land around the country, including one of Mary Tyler Moore throwing her hat in the air in downtown Minneapolis. Believe it or not, there were protesters when the statue was dedicated in 2005. But the show does have a semi-legitimate historical connection to Salem: Elizabeth Montgomery and company filmed a series of episodes on location there in 1970.

In memory of Steve Harrington

We got some very sad news yesterday. Kate’s cousin Steve died in a skydiving accident in California late Wednesday. He was a longtime skydiving enthusiast who had just completed a charity jump with 68 others to set the U.S. record for parachutists in formation wearing wingsuits. Today’s Boston Globe has a nice obituary.

I first met Steve and his husband Adam on Christmas in 2007 at Kate’s Aunt Charlotte’s house in Wellesley. Several months later, Kate and I would follow Steve and Adam’s lead by having our wedding in the backyard.

We’d just gotten engaged and it was my first holiday gathering with the Harrington family. I immediately took note of the tight, quick-witted rapport between Steve and his brothers. It reminded me of my dad and his brothers when they’re together. They heartily welcomed me into their family and I felt privileged to be there.

My heart goes out to Steve’s husband, parents, brothers and everyone else who loved him.

Week in New England

Kate and I just returned from a week visiting family and friends in New England. It was nice to get away from the furnace and even better to arrive home to downpours.

We celebrated Kate's dad's 70th birthday last Sunday (which just so happened to be our first anniversary) in Rhode Island with 70 or so fellow revelers. His wife, Mary, catered the party. I enjoyed catching up with Kate's New England cousins and eating too much. It was the first of many gastronomic overindulgences on my part.

We went over to Cape Cod on Monday to visit Kate's stepmother, Phyllis, and her sister, Eloise. I'd never been to Cape Cod before, but I quickly got into the swing of things with a lobster roll and a dip in Nantucket Sound. Kate and Eloise trounced me at miniature golf on Tuesday at a near-mythic establishment called Steve & Sue's Par-Tee Freeze, but the vanilla and coffee soft-serve swirl made defeat go down a bit easier. We also partook of traditional ice cream at Four Seas, which is one of those institutions you must partake in if you care about ice cream and find yourself anywhere near Cape Cod during the summer months.

Still woozy from a morning of mini-golf, we drove back to Kate's hometown of Worcester to stay with Kate's mom and her stepdad, Michael, for the remainder of the week. Michael treated us to a Boston Red Sox game at Fenway Park on Wednesday night. It was a good one against the Baltimore Orioles, but the Sox prevailed with a three-run double by Victor Martinez in the seventh inning that led to a 7-5 win. While all this was going on, the couple in the seats next to us stood up with an officiant and got married. Hopefully the Red Sox will maintain their wild-card lead over the Texas Rangers or the happy couple's honeymoon will be flat-out scotched.

Once we settled in Worcester, the days became more languid. Despite losing an hour, I found myself getting tired uncharacteristically early and having uncharacteristically vivid dreams once I fell asleep. As Kate and I hiked in Wachussett Meadow on Thursday afternoon, you could feel the end of summer approach in the cool, crisp air.

By Friday, it was rainy and overcast, with daytime temps in the mid-50s. We warmed up with corned beef on bulky rolls, matzo ball soup and birch beer at Weintraub's Deli. You just can't get everyday Jewish deli comfort food like that in Austin.

Our flight back home on Saturday was non-eventful, but after a week in the remote parking lot at Austin-Bergstrom, my car wouldn't start. Fortunately, AMPCO dispatched someone to jump-start the car and that gave us enough juice to get home, unload the bags with the car running and go to Pep Boys for a new battery. Not the best way to conclude a vacation, but at least it wasn't the alternator.

Homecoming, unwired

Although it was bittersweet to say goodbye to Kate's family, we were lucky to get out of New England this morning before the weather got nasty.

In the future, we will have to remember to allow three hours door-to-door when leaving Worcester to catch a flight out of Boston. Our slightly late start alone wouldn't have killed us, but searching for a gas station near the airport to fill up the rental car at the last minute, getting left behind by the rental car bus (thanks for nothing, Budget!) and a post-Thanksgiving bottleneck at security came within minutes of making us miss our flight.

The plane was all set to board when we finally got to the gate, so there was no time to grab coffee. They serve Dunkin' Donuts coffee on JetBlue, but I figured I'd just wait until we got to Austin to get my fix since coffee from an airplane almost always tastes terrible regardless of who makes it. That was a mistake. My head was throbbing by the time we landed.

Fortunately, Cisco's Bakery is just a short drive from the airport. Once we settled down to cups of coffee and plates of migas, my cranium slowly began to loosen and I regained the ability to speak in semi-complete sentences without mumbling. All I need now is one more day off.

Thanksgiving in pilgrim land

Kate and I are winding down from our third turkey dinner since arriving in Massachusetts for Thanksgiving. We've had a short but very full visit. It's cold here, but not as cold as it could be this time of year.

Aside from visiting with family, we've been taking it very easy. We did squeeze in a short walk through the woods with Kate's longtime chum Caitie earlier this afternoon. The woods here take on a different character with each season. Coming from Texas, being in an environment with four distinctive seasons is really quite remarkable.

Our JetBlue flight leaves from Logan at 8am tomorrow. Since we're driving into Boston from Worcester, we'll need to wake up around 4:45am and amp ourselves up with some large regulahs from Dunkin' Donuts. It's already way past time to start nudging ourselves toward sleep, so I know we'll need the traditional New England pick-me-up.

Hitchin' day

I've been wanting to blog more about getting married to and going on honeymoon with Kate, but catching up at home and work has kept both of us busy over the last several days.

Fortunately, we just received proofs from our ace wedding photographer, Brett Buchanan, so I'll let pictures do the talking.

Kate and I decided to do formal photos before the ceremony, so this was taken right after I saw her in her wedding gown for the first time. I was blown away, folks. Walking up to her made me feel giddy and a bit weak in the knees.


Here's my groomsmen and me doing the obligatory ham jive. From left, Kevin Fullerton, me, Jonathan Toubin and David Wyatt. David served as officiant for the ceremony and did an amazing job.


We were married in Wellesley, Mass. at the home of Kate's extraordinarily gracious Aunt Charlotte. Her backyard proved to be an ideal setting, though the arrival of Tropical Storm Hanna gave us a scare. As it was, the first big, fat raindrops starting hitting the tent just as the ceremony got under way. Since everyone was already inside, the rain helped make things even more romantic.

Once everyone was situated for the reception, Kate and I hit the dance floor for the first time as a married couple to Leonard Cohen's "Dance Me to the End of Love." If it's true that rain on your wedding day is good luck, we're in great shape.

Love and the Turtle Boy

The Tuesday before our wedding, Kate and I went down to Worcester City Hall to apply for our marriage license.

On the way out, we decided to take a candid snapshot of ourselves at the edge of Worcester Common in front of the long-dry Burnside Fountain (ca. 1912), which was originally part of a watering trough for horses.

I knew Massachusetts was liberal, but I had no idea the commonwealth would embrace a public work of art that seems to depict a young boy having his way with a turtle.

Merry Massmas 2007

As you may have surmised from the lack of posts this week, I have been on holiday. Kate and I flew to Massachusetts Friday afternoon. After a two-hour layover in Houston, we arrived in Boston just before midnight. After scraping several inches of snow off our rental car, we drove to Worcester and got there just before 2am. We stayed with Kate’s mom and her stepdad, Michael.

Kate spent Saturday afternoon looking for wedding dresses with her 12-year-old sister, Eloise and her stepmom, Phyllis. Meanwhile, I had lunch with Michael and his son, Patrick. Michael was kind enough to show me around Worcester, pointing out various historical and cultural places of interest. Worcester has a grand train depot and lots of cool older buildings, both of which are in short supply in go-go Austin. We even got to see a real live American bald eagle at the EcoTarium, where Kate’s dad was once executive director.

When Kate finished her dress hunt, we picked up her sister, Eloise and drove down to Rhode Island for the night to visit Kate’s dad and his wife, Mary. Poor Eloise was subjected to all eight minutes of “Free Bird,” courtesy of the local classic rock station. After arriving in Portsmouth, we sat down to a superb roast beef and Yorkshire pudding dinner. Then we had homemade brown sugar ice cream and conked out early.

Kate and I took a nice walk around the neighborhood with her dad and Eloise on Sunday morning. Although there was plenty of snow on the ground – at least by Texas standards – it really wasn’t all that cold. Being closer to the coast probably helped on that count.

We drove Eloise back to Worcester that afternoon, stopping at Weintraub’s Deli for an amazing corned beef sandwich and their house label birch beer. I also had a cup of chicken soup to ward off any pathogens inadvertently acquired during our travels. I don’t care what Marc Katz says – there’s really no such thing as authentic East Coast deli food in Austin.

Kate’s family has a long tradition of attending the Christmas Revels show at Harvard’s Sanders Theater. The Revels started back in 1971 and are now a venerated Cambridge tradition. Phyllis graciously took Kate, Eloise and me to the Sunday night performance. The Revels spotlight the winter solstice traditions of a different culture every year. This year’s culture was the Balkans, which offered lots of colorful costumes, acrobatic dancing and haunting women’s choral pieces. The entire audience was invited to sing “Dona Nobis Pacem” and I was vaguely able to follow along thanks to Kate’s pre-Yule tutelage.

Christmas Eve day was comparatively low-key. We wrapped gifts in the morning and had lunch with Kate’s mom and Michael. His two sons were there, too. Then we visited Kate’s grandparents and her Aunt P.K. in Paxton. We took a nice walk through Moore State Park as the sun was setting. There we saw an 18th century mill along a placid flowing stream. It was about the most picturesque thing I’ve seen all year, so naturally I didn’t have a camera with me.

Because Kate has three sets of parents, one set of grandparents and an extended family gathering to visit, Christmas was something of a whirlwind. I think we ended up doing seven separate gift exchanges this year. That’s a far cry from the sparsely attended Bloody Mary Christmas morning I typically do in Houston with my folks, but it was fun getting to see everyone and eating all that food. It was also my first white Christmas, though no snow actually fell during our trip.

Speaking of H-town, four of Kate’s cousins are planning to converge there in June for the big Red Sox/Astros showdown at Minute Maid Park. Now I really need to find a way to get good tickets for that game. Naturally, I’ll be the only ‘Stros partisan in the bunch.

We ended up at the Wellesley home of Kate’s Aunt Charlotte on Christmas night. Aside from the excellent food and company, Kate showed me the back garden where we’ll be getting married in September. It was covered in snow, of course, but I was able to imagine how it might look in late summer. We stood on the freezing cold porch and I remarked that next time we were there, we’d be just about married. That helped warm me up.

Kate’s mom took us to the Worcester Art Museum on Wednesday. Worcester has one of the best smaller art museums in the country. We spent a couple of hours there and had lunch. I’d like to go back sometime and see some of the exhibits we missed.

Just as we did last year, our final night in New England was spent in Petersham at the rustic family farm house of Kate’s friend, Caitie Huppert. Before dinner, Caitie had everyone join hands and told us how good it was to have us there. Although I’ve only known them since last Christmas, the Hupperts really have a way of making one feel welcome. In fact, the same can be said of Kate’s family. That’s just one more reason I consider myself to be one very fortunate Texan to be by Kate’s side.

Cult of Dunkin'

Now that I’m sharing a home with a born-and-bred New Englander, it is of tantamount importance that I learn the ins and outs of that exotic culture as quickly as possible.

Accordingly, I’ve shifted my American League allegiance to the Red Sox, though I’d still have to pull for the Astros in inter-league play or (stifles laugh) the World Series.

I’ve learned that the horse-riding revolutionary who warned colonial Massachusetts of an incipient Redcoat invasion is actually named “Paul Reveagh.” One of these days, I’ll even figure out how to use the phrase, “wicked pissa” in a sentence.

Most importantly, I’ve started grinding Dunkin’ Donuts coffee at home. It’s pretty good joe all right, but I’ve yet to fully grasp the degree of New England’s allegiance to Dunkin’ Donuts. Mike Miliard attempts the brave feat of explaining the Cult of Dunkin’ in the March 2 Boston Phoenix.

Original post via Metafilter.

My Girlfriend is Worcester Famous

Kate made the front page of the sports section of her hometown newspaper in Worcester, Massachusetts!

Go there now (but bring a coat, because it's about 15 degrees outside) to read all about her upcoming Texas 4000 bike ride from Austin to Alaska this summer to raise money for the American Cancer Society.

The 70-day ride is the longest annual charity bike ride on the planet. In addition to raising at least $4,000 each, the riders work to raise cancer awareness and bring hope to those fighting it. For information on how to donate to the Texas 4000, go here.

The print edition of today’s Worcester Telegram & Gazette also features this very lovely photo of Kate in front of the UT Tower.

UPDATE: Turns out Kate's pic wasn't in the print edition, which makes this photo a Beetsolonely exclusive (cue oh-Jesus-we're-going-to-die "Fox News Alert" ID)!

Austin to Boston - Conclusion

Owing to an ungodly 6:30am Saturday morning departure from Logan, Friday was my last full day in Massachusetts with Kate.

After slowly rousing ourselves to wakefulness, we left Shrewsbury for a quick tour of Worcester, which is pronounced "Wister" or "Wista," but never "Wooster" or "Warchester." A good drinking game would be for someone to hold up cards with names of Massachusetts towns for me to pronounce. Every time I horribly bastardized a town's name, everyone would have to drink. We'd all be hammered in no time.

We drove through downtown and walked around Kate’s old school before meeting her mom and stepdad for lunch. I enjoyed meeting them both. Her stepdad is a fount of area history. I regretted forgetting to ask him about the deadly 1953 Worcester tornado.

As it was, we roughly followed the tornado’s path in reverse out of town to visit with Kate’s friend Caitie and her family near Petersham (that’s "Petersam" to all you non-Yankee types). Caitie’s mom and dad live in a restored 18th century farmhouse set against hilly, pastoral terrain that people from Texas don’t often see. Kate, Caitie and I took a walk over the frozen fields and through a dairy farm before dinner. I could only imagine what those fields would look like covered with snow.

Meanwhile, Kate and Caitie’s friend Jess had gotten her rental car stuck in a slushy roadside ditch a few miles away while trying to take photos of the amazing sunset. Kate, Caitie’s dad and I drove down to see if we could push her out. That wasn’t going to happen, so we took turns sitting in Jess’s car and listening to Neil Young until a tow truck came along.

Once everyone was warm and in place, we ate a delicious spaghetti supper preceded by the singing of "Dona Nobis Pacem." Kate and her family called me in Houston on Christmas Eve and sung it over the cell phone. My mom and dad overheard this and assumed Kate's family was at some sort of performance because they sounded so good. My Uncle Mark jokingly suggested calling back to sing the old Buck Owens chestnut, "Santa Looked a Lot Like Daddy.”

Anyway, after looking around and noticing everyone at the table was singing "Dona Nobis Pacem" except me, I sheepishly tried to join in, hanging on Kate’s hand directions for dear life. Even so, my lack of religion and formal musical training came through with flying clams. Fortunately, this was a gracious, welcoming group and I didn’t feel the least bit self-conscious about it.

As much as we were enjoying the great food and company, Kate and I had to drive back to Shrewsbury around 8pm. After a few hours’ sleep, we woke up at 3:30am and headed for the airport. When it’s 20 degrees and pitch black outside, you begin to understand why there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts on every corner in New England.

We made our flight with time to spare, but between headwinds and having to fly way the hell out of the way to avoid a storm system, it took over four hours to get back to Austin. That’s a long time to be on a small plane, but it beats having to make a connection. While three days wasn’t enough time to really “do” the Boston area, my ever-growing travel appetite is now extra-whetted for future exploration of the region.

Austin to Boston - Part 2

I took this photo of Kate and myself Thursday morning before we left her dad's house in Portsmouth, Rhode Island. Incidentally, Portsmouth is actually on the island that gave the state of Rhode Island its name.

After a quick breakfast, we headed back up to Boston to do a little sightseeing in the Italian-flavored North End. After years of being cut off from the rest of downtown Boston by an elevated freeway, the massive (both in terms of scale and corruption) "Big Dig" project has rerouted Interstate 93 underground. Nevertheless, parking space remains at a premium.

After parking illegally mere blocks from a police precinct, we walked a sliver of the Freedom Trail past the Old North Church and Copps Hill Burial Ground. Although the North End is teeming with Italian food, we opted for seafood at the Union Oyster House, which purports to be the oldest continuously-serving restaurant in America. I had crab cakes with Newburg sauce and a Harpoon IPA. Then we warmed up with some cappuccino before returning to Kate's blissfully unticketed rental car.

Twilight was fast approaching, but we decided to do one last bit of walking through the 19th century brick row house enclave of Beacon Hill. We located a parking spot right across from the statehouse and hoofed it over the brick sidewalks to Boston Common, which is the oldest city park in the U.S., dating back to 1634. There was no snow on the ground, but looking across the Common's ice skating rink as the sun went down still made for a perfect winter scene. We briefly considered skating ourselves, but the line was too long.

Masspike traffic had abated by the time we left Beacon Hill, so the drive west to Kate's dad's condo in Shrewsbury went relatively fast. Shrewsbury is a suburb of Worcester, which is where Kate grew up. Oddly enough, I knew of Shrewsbury even before I met Kate because it is one of the few U.S. cities with a municipally-owned cable television system, which was the topic of my oft-cited 1993 master's thesis.

After a tasty supper of Christmas leftovers, Kate and I fell fast asleep. My long-overdue examination of Shrewsbury's cable TV offerings would just have to wait.

Austin to Boston - Part 1

I just got back from a three-day whirlwind tour of Boston and vicinity with Kate. The fast clip of events left no time for posting, but I had a great time visiting there for the first time at the hand of a native New Englander girlfriend.

I caught the year-old JetBlue nonstop to Boston on Wednesday morning. They service the route with Embraer E190 regional jets, which are bigger than most regional jets but smaller than mainliners. Without planes like the E190, Austin probably wouldn't have nonstop service to Boston.

You can watch live TV at every seat on JetBlue flights, which is a decent way to wile away four hours. They're also pretty generous with the Cokes and snacks, going so far as to invite you to ask for seconds. I wish they'd start flying to the West Coast from here. A nonstop to Oakland would suit my personal travel needs quite well.

Kate was already in Massachusetts for the holidays, so she picked me up at Logan Airport. We drove to Cambridge and had a very nice dinner in Harvard Square at a place called Upstairs on the Square.

Although the cold weather didn't exceed the hard freezes we have in Austin once or twice a year, it was still pretty bracing to my Texan frame. Therefore, I had no complaints when Kate suggested a stop at Burdick Chocolate for a cup of the best hot chocolate you can imagine. We also had some fine beer at John Harvard's Brew House. Boston is one of the world's great beer cities and I'd like to go back there and do a little more purposeful sampling one of these days.

As it was, Kate's dad graciously invited us to stay at his new vacation house overlooking Sakonnet Bay in Portsmouth, Rhode Island. The drive down there took an hour and a half. I was plum-tuckered out by 10pm, a function of both a long day of traveling and the fact that it gets dark around 4pm in Boston during the winter. Having the sun retire so early can really do a number on your circadian rhythms.