Dads, would it make you feel any better to know we were speaking in church on Father's Day, and that - combined with pre-church meetings, choir practice and a visit to homebound woman in the neighborhood - left little in the way of translating thoughts to paper? Or blog, as it were.
It should make you feel better (look at me, telling you how you ought to be feeling about all of this), because I can say without flinching that we inherited this sense of responsibility from you, Dad, Dad, Daddy-O (Furniss) and Pops (Riley).
Our dads are two of the hardest-working individuals I know. But you know what? They're still fun. Yes, it's true!
As I advance in years and wisdom, I find myself more fully appreciating and more deeply respecting the example our fathers set in this regard. Neither seems driven by title or esteem or the number of figures before the decimal. And while they appreciate the necessity and responsibility of providing for a family, both understand when to hang up the pruning shears or put away the abacus (because after learning what one was and discovering my dad owned one, I drew the logical conclusion that he used one in his professional life).
Whether it's a long drive to Logan for any number of his sons' events or his daughter's high school basketball game during tax season (I'm not the baller, that would be Megan. I just couldn't think of any especially busy March/April activities of mine...), I've always felt our dads knew how to keep life in balance. I probably took that for granted as a kid. I probably take it for granted even now. But I think I'm gaining a greater sense of the pressures that can throw this balance out of whack, and I love them for figuring it out. Or, at least, for faking it really well.
*Alan, don't write me out of the will. You must admit this photo is hysterical. That's a good sport right there. For our viewers at home, just imagine "Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer" on trombone a la Christmas Vacation.
After the park, we headed back to our place and our good friend, Ibrahim, joined us for dessert (Lindsay’s famous 
Tuesday night we worked late. Woo! But, oh so New York of us.
We kept them up way too late chatting - but man, I've missed this girl. Whitney and I used to work together in Salt Lake and when you go from the morning download and the daily elliptical chat in the TSG gym to the periodic text and email, you've got some things to discuss.
Then we hit the trail. The Freedom Trail, that is.
"And a cool orange chair propped up on the stoop."
"Hey - that guy in the straight jacket is hanging by his ankles in front of Quincy Market."
After summiting the Bunker Hill monument and appreciating Old Ironsides from the sidelines (wicked long line), we caught the T to Fenway in hopes of catching a little Sox/Mets action. We waited at Gate E, discussed tickets with scalpers, waited at Gate E some more, ate a hot dog and waited some more as they kept counting down the line and promising tickets were still available. Twenty minutes into the game, we got cold, gave up and took a picture.
The next day, Cutlers took us to Concord/Lexington and to Walden Pond. It was so calm and peaceful... can we stay here forever?
I know simplicity and self-sufficiency are largely at the core of Thoreau's Walden - so I can hardly claim this as independent thought. But while we were there, I found myself really reflecting on the concept and my own belief in the value of provident living. Am I perfect in my own attempts to simplify? Not by a long shot. But truly, there is something so liberating in the mindset that I simply don't need A or B or C. I believe that's true for material possessions, demands on our time, those things to which we devote our thoughts and energy, all of it. I know our very being on this earth is a tremendous gift, and I know we're meant to HAVE experiences. To learn, to grow and find joy in those experiences. But for me, my thoughts on the simple, uncluttered versus full and rewarding always seem to weave their way back to balance. You know, balance like canteloupe and berries and chocolate shakes and hot dogs.
For lunch, we met up with Cutlers and our other favorite duo (plus their little Boston baked bean), the Crowells, at Border Cafe for some delicious Mexican fare, great conversation and a few inside jokes (I hope Alisa's not driving...). How could you not be completely content at this table?
Truly, Boston has some great ones. There is a whole lot of talent, smarts, motivation, ambition and drive in that bunch with the humility, kindness and thoughtfulness to match.
But not before discovering Christina's homemade ice cream.
("Ridiculous" and "painful" are usually sound ways to describe my half-baked ideas.)
I really wanted a big something on this huge, empty wall - but we all know the bigger something gets, the exponentially more expensive it also tends to get. So I was looking for the poor man's solution - and I'm pleased with the results.
