Welcome back Pedro!!

Dear Pedro,

We had many, many, many great times together. I will always be thankful for those days...the strikeouts, and the wins, back when you were one of the fiercest pitchers in the league. I could never thank you enough for the 2004 season and all the happiness it brought me. There were times that I am willing to overlook, like your obnoxious exit from town,and that game...you know the one, everyone who wasn't under a rock in 2003 knows which game I am talking about. But those times are over. Your good far outweighed your bad while you were in town. I don't hate you. You deserved that ovation at the start of the game in Fenway tonight, way more than Johnny no-name deserved it a few months back.

However, I have been thinking about it, and I don't miss you. In fact, I am glad you are gone. Yes, you got shelled by your former team tonight, but that isn't completely it. I don't miss your whining, your inconsistent pitching, or how much of a nutty head case you were. We never knew what we were going to get when you took the mound. It was like watching Sybil pitch. Will Pedro strike out 10 batters tonight, or is he going to mud wrestle Don Zimmer again? I never felt comfortable when you started a playoff game. Unlike Schill, or D. Lowe, or Beckett now, you didn't step up your performance in key games. You were never the go to guy and that is what burned you in the end.

So, I wish you continued success with the Mets. I am sure they are happy to have you. Hell, if things keep up we may see you again in the playoffs. But if that happens, I feel much more confident in the cards my boys can play then in the one they got rid of.

Adieu,

Meaghan

When it rains, it pours

A group of us spent all day Friday at Busch Gardens Williamsburg to celebrate Dave's 30th Birthday. For weeks he had been talking about how much he wanted to ride roller coasters. I am not really a roller coaster person. I am deathly afraid of heights, and have been known to get sick riding in the backseat of a car. For real, a few weeks ago I got motion sick, a block from our house, because the front window in Dave's car was too dirty and I couldn't see out of it. I am not exactly the ideal candidate to spend the day at the amusement park with. However, I knew that I needed to suck it up for Dave and downed the little white happy pill that never leaves my side. You might know this as Dramamine.

As soon as we got to the park, Dave led us straight to the Loch Ness Monster. I convinced myself that I would be OK because I had been on this ride before. Granted that was fifteen years ago, but I told myself I could do it...I didn't die that time, chances are I wouldn't die this time. Right? As we climbed to the top of the first drop I looked over at Captain Roller Coaster Pants and had a flashback to my youth. I was in the same seat, on the same roller coaster, looking at my older brother and thinking "What the fuck am I doing on this ride?" My eyes were closed, my palms were sweaty and clenched to the handles, and my brain, while being tossed around inside my head, counted the nanoseconds until it was over. Well, I lived...barely. I had just placed my feet on the ground, and I was already being dragged to the second coaster.

Well to make a really long story short, (TOO LATE!) a storm system came in and they had to shut down all the rides. We ran through pouring rain and gigantic puddles to reach the beer hall, where well, you guessed it...they had lots of beer. Since I was all cracked up on the Dramamine I wasn't able to drink, but I was able to spend the next four hours watching my friends toss back some pints. Oh, and wrap myself in a plastic garbage bag to keep dry. We were convinced that the rides would open up again and Dave's birthday dreams would be fulfilled.

Our waiting paid off, the rain let up, and it was back on the roller coaster circuit. Now I am not sure if it was all the waiting, or the excitement Dave was exuding, or the extra Dramamine that I downed, or my shear joy in not having to watch my friends drink anymore, but I actually started to enjoy the roller coasters. There were no lines, since every rational person left during the storm, so we just kept getting back in line, over and over and over and over again.

They take those pictures of you during a strategic point the ride to capture your expression. At the beginning of the day, in every photo I looked like I was being tortured by newts in a den of mind numbing evil. By the end of the day....


...it was a different story.

Just remember...I was only doing this for Dave. I sacrificed my well being so that he could enjoy his birthday. I hope he appreciates it.

Happy Birthday Houseboy!!!

I can say with great certainty, after 4 years of knowing you, that your most annoying attribute may be how frustratingly photogenic you are. I have hundreds of pictures of you, and even in situations where you should look stupid, you look fine. Now I know your Mom thinks you should be a male model, but not in 10,000 years, or in any alternate universe, is that what I am implying. I am just saying that at times when the exact same photo of me would look like I had a debilitating illness, you look OK. Like here for example:

You should really look like a jackass in this picture, but the big brown turd on your hot dog is the most disconcerting thing about this shot, not your mug.

And here...(the faces of the innocent have been removed)

...you look silly, you have some bad early nineties hair, but this isn't the type of horrid photo I was going for.

Lastly, even in drag you don't look as bad as you should.

Where did you get that wig?

After thirty years of life on this earth I know there must be embarrassing photos of you out there. Photos that make you cringe in horror, photos that would make your mother deny her role in your birth, photos that belong in my conniving little hands. So friends and family of Dave, I know you are out there with the goods that I so longingly covet. Email me, I will make you an offer you can't refuse.

As for you Mr. Houseboy...you got off easy this time around. Consider it a gift.

Now let's go ride some roller coasters to celebrate your birth...

The Hub of the Solar System

Watching the Red Sox pounce the Nationals was not nearly as exciting as I hoped it would be. Yes, the Nats are my #2 team, but they are Dave's #1 team. I was hoping for a good battle so that when the Red Sox came out on top I could do a victory dance in his face. There would have been lots of laughing, finger pointing, and couch jumping involved. Instead, after destroying his boys from RFK in an 11-3 stomp that made the Bad News Bears look like viable candidates for a spot in the National League East, I just feel bad for him. It must just plain suck to not be from Boston.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Today I learned that there are three distinct type of people in this world...those that like the movie Zoolander, those that like the movie Napoleon Dynamite, and those that like neither. From the scientific research that I conducted in my sister's back yard, and at my parents dinner table, I have concluded that if you like one it is improbable that you will like the other. The brilliant comedic genius of Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson is lost on those who enjoy watching annoying boys with lisps from Idaho whine. I also concluded, based on a test of seven different qualifying factors, that those in the first group are intellectually superior, as well as physically more attractive than those in the second group. Now those in the third group, those that like neither movie, well...there really isn't much hope for them. They are doomed to a life of social rejection and failure.

For the rest of you in the Zoolander column, Orange Mocha Frappacinos are on me.

Adventures in paranoia

I just finished a CSI marathon, I am home alone, and I am scared shitless. With every little noise that I hear, I think a mask wearing, gun yielding psycho path is going to break down my door and torture me until I die from the sheer shock of it all. I placed a screw driver next to my bed in case I need a weapon. The only real weapon I know how to use, well besides my fists (ahem), is a baseball bat and that is in Dave's car. Not helping me in the slightest now is it? When I was in the bathroom I heard a noise, and thought to myself "What the fuck kind of weapon do I have in here?" I glanced around, focused on the Lysol, and decided that if anyone tried to attack me while I was in the bathroom I would blind them with my fresh linen scented deoderizing spray. I really liked that idea, so now the air freshener is next to the screwdriver on my nightstand. Best to be extra safe.

I am off to bed now. Let's hope I make it until tomorrow.

Almost an Angel Elinor

For real this time, it is a girl! Nine and a half big ole pounds, and healthy. I hate not being in Boston at times like this. When little Eli grows up and wants to see pictures from the day she was born, this is the one that I am going to show her. Chances are, she won't be able to tell the difference.

Making eyes with the lady in the toll, yeah

This is your 3rd Street Project. Resurrected for what may have been their greatest show ever!! Not that I have anything to compare it to, but still...

After four years of not playing together, and not practicing together, and adding a whole new member to the band, one wedding, another engagement, a new girlfriend, and numerous new jobs, they sounded bad ass. I think some of the audience knew more of the lyrics to the songs than Dave did, but what do you expect, he only wrote them. But for real, the sounded great. So great that I wish they still played, but who doesn't?

I took a ton of pictures for all of you, who I am sure, are left yearning for more. You can even hear their tunes while you look at the pictures. It is practically MTV.

Not your average bear

We watched King Kong this weekend, topping off a long movie watching fiesta binge week. Most of the movie was OK, not good, but OK. There was a very long scene where the giant gorilla battled three T-Rexes. Your basic real life action adventure. The sequence reminded me of my little brother, and how as a kid he used berate my Dad with fictitious animal match ups. "Dad, if a crocodile and a tiger got into a fight who would win?" Or, "If a panda and a gazelle were wrestling in a giant pool of jello who would win?" The animals would get crazier and crazier, until my father would get annoyed and stop answering. My favorite was when he would add humans into the mix, and Hulk Hogan was a name I heard tossed into the battle cage more than once. Tim pitted the Hulk up against every animal imaginable, in an age before Fox ever dreamed of Man vs. Beast. If only we realized then that the little freak was on to something.

It's a boy!!!!!!

After much waiting I am finally an aunt again!

I love my neices, but it is great to have another boy in the family.

There were some complications last week, and we thought he was going to arrive then.

But thankfully, he is healthy and the extra week seems to have been good for him.

I love him so much, and I have not even met him yet.

My brother's new puppy Frank. My new nephew is adorable.