kara

“If a man happens to find himself, he has a mansion which he can inhabit with dignity all the days of his life.” —James A. Michener

We took the “T” …

(Sophie looks so angry here!) …

to our first baseball game at Fenway Park!

I’ve been to a fair number of professional baseball games, but I think this is the first sold-out game I’ve attended. The energy was so different—so fun.

Fenway Park’s Green Monster …

and Sophie’s new Green Monster.

Well-loved seats.

Attending the game was a surprise birthday present for Ben!

Sophie and I had quite an experience finding a changing table at the park (turns out it was a little extra sink counter space in a family bathroom on the other side of the park from where we were sitting) but I suppose many toddlers weren’t getting their diapers changed in 1912, when the park first opened.

I’ve heard it so many times before, but now I get it. Whether you’re a Red Sox fan or not, Fenway Park is a special place.

“That moment, when you first lay eyes on that field—The Monster, the triangle, the scoreboard, the light tower Big Mac bashed, the left-field grass where Ted (Williams) once roamed—it all defines to me why baseball is such a magical game.” —Jayson Stark

“It is the Americans who have managed to crown minced beef as hamburger, and to send it round the world so that even the fussy French have taken to le boeuf hache, le hambourgaire.” —Julia Child

Halfway through our trip to Boston I got to stay up way past my bedtime to meet Dad at the airport.

Mom says, for some reason, airport hellos are sweeter than other hellos. I think she’s right.

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge—they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion … love actually is all around.” —Hugh Grant in the movie Love Actually

Only in Boston’s North End …

at a delicious Italian restaurant …

can a 16-month-old get milk served in a wine glass.

“The wine cup is the little silver well, where truth, if truth there be, doth dwell.” —William Shakespeare

I waited very patiently to board the bus/boat for our duck tour!

Along with Mom, Grandma and Grandpa, Jeff, Ben, Tracy and Julie—and their friends—came, too.

These life jackets were attached to the ceiling. There was no chance of using them, though, because traffic was so bad we never made it to the water. But touring Boston by land was fun.

This was our tour guide. He was funny.

Mom is all smiles in part because I was so good!

Here are some sights.

(I missed a lot of them.)

“In Boston they ask, how much does he know? In New York, how much is he worth? In Philadelphia, who were his parents?” —Mark Twain

Gerber claims their Yogurt Melts (a rare treat for Sophie, as an attempt to keep her calm on the plane) are “not messy.” I think I might send them this picture.

“Don’t eat anything your great-grandmother wouldn’t recognize as food.” —Michael Pollan

“All the really good ideas I ever had came to me while I was milking a cow.” —Grant Wood

Late July Mom took me on a plane all by herself! She let me run around the airport in hopes I would release all my energy but about halfway through the plane ride it was evident I still had a lot of energy in me. The crying and screaming and going boneless wasn’t really my fault. You see, I wanted down. But because of “turbulence” (whatever that means) I had to sit on Mom’s lap. Don’t get me wrong. I like Mom’s lap. Sometimes I don’t want to leave Mom’s lap. But that day, I hated Mom’s lap and only wanted down. Eventually my energy ran out and I fell asleep—10 minutes before we landed!

At Grandma and Grandpa’s house, I was in a much better mood. Grandma had new toys for me and read me a new book!

We went on a walk with Molly and Bonnie …

and Grandpa convinced me to eat Grandma’s casserole (which, actually, was really good).

“Never play peekaboo with a child on a long plane trip. There’s no end to the game. Finally I grabbed him by the bib and said, “Look, it’s always gonna be me!” —Rita Rudner

The sign has been in our yard for more than a week now, but still, every time I see it I think, Who put that there? Why would anyone want to leave such a lovely, old house? But then I remember I put that there—or rather, I had our Realtor put that there—and I’m the one, we’re the family, who wants to leave this lovely, old house. “Need” is a better word than “want.” But despite its size, despite the problems that come with age, I love this house. I know more room will be nice. And I know we’ll patiently turn our new house into a home as we did this one, but I can’t help but feel sad about the possibility of leaving.

We had a small army of friends help us move from a townhouse in Mariemont to this old Dutch Colonial in Ft. Thomas on a cold, rainy, February day. I clearly remember, late that first night, sitting on our mattress on the floor in our bedroom (our queen-size box spring wouldn’t fit up our steep stairs), surrounded by boxes labeled “basement,” taking note of the house-noises I wasn’t yet familiar with—the noises that now sound like home—and thinking of possibility.

We were newlyweds. Our furniture was mismatched. We didn’t own a lawnmower. There was dark wood paneling in the sunroom, heavy velvet drapes in the living room, ornate brass ceiling fans hanging from the ceiling and paisley wallpaper that sort of matched the pink and blue tile in the bathroom. At the time, I thought us so very rich, so very lucky—and while some might not think it, we were.

Time flew, as it does. We painted—several rooms twice. We celebrated birthdays. We bought new light fixtures for every room. We hosted parties that went until early, early morning. We tiled. We played Scrabble in our pajamas on cold, winter nights. We landscaped. We celebrated summer with dinner on our deck. We took sponge baths and washed our hair in the kitchen sink for two weeks while our bathroom was completely remodeled. We brought home Tucker. We bought a new furnace and a new air conditioner. We squinted at pregnancy tests, trying to decide if there really was a second line or not. We propped up our stone foundation. We brought home Sophie. We built a beautiful fence. We changed jobs. We fixed cracks.

And now, it’s perfect. I love every room and I love everything that has happened in every room. And I know that five years from now I’ll be able to write a similar paragraph to the one above, just in a new setting. I love and hate that our life setting is about to change. But I also know that a backdrop is only that—and that it’s our words, our action and reactions, our choices and celebrations and arguments and bedtime routines and Sunday morning pancakes that will make any house a home, no matter how big or how small, no matter where.

“Home is not where you live but where they understand you.” —Christian Morgenstern