Boston warm fuzzies

I realized that I was so wrapped up in my crazy fall down my staircase that I forgot to tell you all about my fabulous weekend in Boston!

I think that everyone has a town/city that has stolen their heart. A place you lived that was so perfect, it was as if the city was designed just for you. And even though you've moved away, every time you go back you want it be like you never left. You visit all your old stomping grounds, call it "The Common" because only Bostonians know it's not called "The Commons", and get angry when a new place has popped up that you don't know about. You still consider that city yours.

And no matter how sad you are that you no longer live there, nothing – and I mean nothing – could replace the feeling of awesomeness when you're walking down the street, and someone mistakes you for a local.

Could there be anything better?

This happened not once, but TWICE this weekend.

And on both occasions, people asked us for directions. And, I'm proud to say, that I was able to answer them every time. I pointed the out-of-breath frazzled guy over to Newbury Street, and the blind woman on her way to the Inbound Green Line.

I guess what they say is true – you can take us out of Boston, but we'll go kicking and screaming, and totally pretend that we still live there.