I am sitting at Logan airport in Boston hoping my JetBlue flight is timely. The flight in on Friday was three hours delayed...sigh. I had the immense privilege of having a play date with a dear dear friend, who flew in from Philly to meet me in Boston for a long, late lunch. BTW - Tremont Street in Boston is a quaint neighborhood with local restaurants, gorgeous ivy covered brownstones, and corner markets that remind me of the Village in NYC. We had fabulous salads, a glass of merlot (me...no lectures from the peanut-gallery) and a true French version of a macchiatto. The restaurant: Aquitaine.
But, I digress.
Dear dear friend, who has known me since I was fresh out of undergrad - and who introduced me to "Fleet Week" in my city by the bay (San Francisco for all the lay people), complained that my blog left too much to the imagination. She needed more, in order to have a better understanding and feel for my journey. Her disgruntlement led her to hop on a plane to see me, feel me. Think, The Who and "Tommy." I am having a hard time seeing the negative of this situation. I am a selfish b*tch (LOL!)
Hugging Dr. D. curbside at Terminal B, PRICELESS!
(I was in New England because I was moving my second daughter into the sophomore dorms at Dartmouth. Bittersweet.)
Well..the French would probably say a glass of merlot c'est parfait for your condition. They consider the quality of your life is as important as the actual med treatment for healing. A shared lunch, some wine with a dear old friend sounds like a happy moment.
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