First thing you need to know is I'm a dumbass who never has batteries in her camera. That's why there are so few of these pictures in the first place, and why it's taken me so long to put them up.
I thought about putting these on my main blog or in my main blog's photo album (funny how I still call that one my main blog when this one gets about five times as much traffic on a daily basis, but...moving on), but then decided that the people who are most interested in most of them check here and not there and they are at least vaguely sports related.
So first, Kristen and Colleen's birthday party, Nov. 19 (I know, I know, all right?). I'm not sure when Colleen's birthday is but it's close to Kristen's, which is Nov. 4. Annette and Marianne did a fabulous job planning a chic dinner at a North End restaurant called Artu, and then we retired to Annette's apartment for drinks and schmoozing. It was the first time I've ever really hung out in the North End, and I want to go back soon. It's a beautiful spot, highly European in feel (and in parking spaces!)
This is the FH standing under a sign we passed. I wish the sign had come out better. His last name is "Jean", you see.
The setting at Artu.
Kristen, Catherine (sp?) and Sebastian. I didn't get a good shot of it, but Kristen looked swank indeed in her prom-style dress.
At first I thought none of these pictures of Marianne (l) and Annette (r) except the last one had come out (and even then, the lighting in that place was wonky) but then when I looked at them all together, I realized they were perfect.
Steve and me.
I am not even going to attempt to name everyone in this picture, but the ones I do know, from furthest from the camera, are Erik and then Amy. Then skip two, and there's Colleen's hair and the top of Colin's head. Kristen, you might want to designate a different photographer next time.
The whole group. I believe circumcision is being discussed. (You can dress us up...)
Annette settles the check. I think this is a pretty shot of her.
Then there was the Pats game, Nov. 20., vs. the New Orleans Saints. Neither the Patriots or the Saints will appear in any of these pictures, as my camera died before we even got out of the parking lot.
So why do you want to look at pictures of the parking lot? Well, because for one thing, we went with my dad's friend Marshall and his wife Pam, which is new, and for another, going with Marshall and Pam meant we got to tailgate with them at a parking spot the likes of which I'll never see again. Marshall had won a contest for tickets and the luxury parking / tailgating spot. His tickets were on the third deck like ours, but that parking spot...I guess it's kind of sad when you get nostalgic and weepy about a parking spot, but this was...I'll just let you see the pictures.
THERE IT IS. GAZE UPON ITS MAJESTY. Not the stadium--although the fact that you can actually see it from the parking spot is part of the grandeur--but the tailgating area. See those? Those are grills. They give you a grill if you park here (we used our own, but still). Plus there's that little gravel area where you can set up your picnic table, grill, etc. We also had a nearly 1:1 ratio of Handy Houses to parkers in this little area.
Maybe you had to be there.
Or maybe you just had to be there the time my dad and I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches inside the minivan and then did the Bataan Death March from about a mile away from the stadium when we parked at the truck depot, which involved walking through a Mad-Max-esque scene of bonfires in barrels and drunken fans next in the shadows of a rusty metal warehouse, through woods, over train tracks (at night, with no lights), up several hills, and then through the parking lots where everyone else was parked up to the stadium (and then up the Ramp of Death to the seats). While wearing about 20 lbs of cold weather gear each. While carrying awkward sleeping bags. When it was -10 F with the windchill and the air was so cold it hurt to breathe.
Marshall's setting up the table, Pam is setting up the chairs, and my dad is standing back to admire his handiwork with the grill.
Holy crap, THIS IS LUXURY LIKE I HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED. I had to take a picture of that little table. Because, I mean, come on. A table.
Pam with our breakfast. On the table. Which now has a tablecloth. We would also eat lunch pretty much in the same sitting. Good times.
Pardon me for tooting my own horn, here, but this is easily one of the best pictures of my dad ever taken. It's perfect--I think it really captures him in ways I probably couldn't describe to you unless you were a member of my family. But whatever. He's on the phone with my Mom here, telling her, "Holy shit, you should see where we're parked!"
This is the life, bitches!
P.S. Alex Belth, my favorite Yankees fan, has this stunning achievement to report. I can only hope to ride his coattails to fame by association.