Week in New England, Part One

Like the Barry Manilow song. Except longer, and without the romance...

So I'm back from my week in Woonsocket with the family. There were no blogs written while I was there, since their house is the land that technology forgot. I finally convinced them to upgrade to a high-speed connection from their crappy dial-up, but only on my last day there, so it didn't do me a whole lot of good. It does, however, mean that they will now be able to open up their Yahoo! email in fewer than 5 minutes, and will actually be able to get onto websites with graphics, so I feel like my work there was well worth it.

I did girls' nights and a spa day, had more family time than I know what to do with, and spent one-on-one time with most of my sisters (except Michelle, who had the world's. Worst. Vacation. Ever. Poor thing.) I didn't get much time with my girls, since there was a vicious stomach flu running through Sarah's house, and my mom would have kicked my ass if I went over and brought it home with me. But that just gives me an excuse to go back for the boys' birthdays in a couple of weeks and spend some time with them then. (Um, Sarah. You were planning on inviting me, right??)

Since every one of my local friends is either pregnant, nursing, or was sick last week, it made for a very relaxed trip. Most nights I stayed in and watched old movies with my mom. I stocked up on Netflix, and came home bearing White Christmas, Holiday, Going My Way, and Holiday Inn. (And when I say watched, I mean saw the first half hour and then fell asleep on my parents' incredibly comfortable recliner and had to watch the rest the next day.) I spent Friday night playing dominoes with my parents and had a blast, except for the occasional twinge of "Oh my God. What happened to me?? I used to be cool." And since they don't even have cable (see earlier "land that technology forgot" comment) I got a ridiculous amount of sleep. I had forgotten what being that well-rested felt like....

On my way back to Rhode Island I stopped in Connecticut to see my friend Nando, who's nine months pregnant and ADORABLE (slight waddle and all) and then stopped by my sister Jean's on the way home, partially to see her new kitchen and partially to get to use her fireplace. So they made me a nice fire, and I lay down on the couch to watch it and instantly fell asleep. After I woke up, I told my sister, "I invited myself over to your house, ate your food, and fell asleep on your couch. If I weren't your little sister, it would mean you either gave birth to me or we were dating. Because no one else could get away with that."

While I was there, I was reminded anew of exactly how different our lives really are. Jean lives in the woods. I mean, their neighbors have farm animals, all the houses had chimneys blazing, her kid packs himself a thermos of cocoa and some snacks when he strays too far from the house into the yard, and I drive by at least twice every time I try to find the house because it's so far back you can't see it from the road. Woods. I gave her older son a driving lesson because my car is standard, and he took to it instantly, starting and stopping on hills without even stalling. I was impressed, until he reminded me that it was because his tractor is a 5-speed too. I'm guessing city kids don't have that experience. My godson, Jeremy, had made himself a Charlie Brown Christmas tree in his room and decorated it. Adorable, right?


But look closer. What are those he's using as ornaments? Are those tiny little John Deere tractors? Why, yes they are. And that? That would be a shotgun shell casing.

And a cork.

I dubbed it the redneck Christmas tree, and spent the rest of the time I was there singing "White Trash Wedding" by the Dixie Chicks. While my nephews are rednecks, not white trash, I don't know any redneck songs, and I figured that was close enough. Jean and I look almost identical, she's my best friend, and my mom swears we're really related. But sometimes it's hard to believe.