I write from the beautiful Westin Hotel in Boston's Back Bay area. Boston is home to the marathon this weekend. Elite runners from around the world are gathering and I watch, pleased to be eating a chocolate croissant for breakfast and not contemplating a 26.2 mile run. No Cliff Bars here thank you. At least not this year.
Although we curse Jerry's job for the many nights he spends in a hotel room; we thank Gatorade this weekend for an opportunity to see family. We arrived last night, greeted by Allyn, Jon and Jo. We couldn't have asked for a better welcoming committee after a trying flight from Chicago. The pressure changes in the plane wreaked havoc on Ella's ears for the last 60 minutes of the flight...which in turn wreaked havoc on rows 15-40. Overall, Ella's cries in pain were met with sympathy. As we began our descent, cries were replaced with smiles and relief from the back half of the plane. We remembered her swim suit, snacks and sippy cups but we briefly lost our sanity somewhere over the Great Lakes. All was restored at the first sight of our niece and a welcome basket complete with Hacker Pschorr.
Looking forward to adventures with the girls, continued unapologetic eating and athlete watching. A perfect combination.
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