In a Nutshell....

Jaunted up 95 to the ole state of Maine this weekend. A chance to see the folks and my Aunt, and also catch up with some friends from St. Joe's.

On Friday I stayed with my family. Upon my arrival I was hungry as I had made my trek as soon as I returned home from work. I decided to head out in search of some food. I had a craving for Chinese and figured the quick take out places are usually open late. Sadly I could not find an open Chinese restaurant.

Having difficulty satisfying this craving I ultimately settled on Sam's Italian sandwich Shoppe, and got myself a ham Italian. Ham Italian's from Sam's are a piece of nostalgia for me (and that's probably true for many people from Maine & New Hampshire. They are a relatively simple seasoned-oil drenched, sandwich on a moist sub roll.. which is actually unique in that it is more like a giant ultra moist and decadent hot dog roll. They are the size of sub rolls, but they are backed together when cooked so the sides are crust free, and split down the middle almost completely. Sandwiches are filled with pickle spears, tomatoes, green peppers, and a heavy helping of onions. Some times Spanish black olives are added. After the seasoned oil, salt and pepper is generously sprinkled on the glistening vegetables, meat and cheese.

Next after consuming my vittles from Sam's I crashed on the sleeper sofa in the den and fell asleep with the remote control in my hand. The low drone of whatever uninteresting crap the fiber optics were delivering, apparently serving as an excellent lullaby.

My mother woke me around 4:30- 5:00 am because she thought my car was blocking her exit from the garage. She needed to go to work.

As luck would have it she was simply being nervous and there was plenty of room. With some minor frustration, I directed her path out of the garage and past my car.

Drowsiness quickly anchored me back to the sleeper sofa and I slept until noon.

Dad walked through the door and smirked at me still sleeping. Without much doubt he must have been shaking his head at the laziness of my generation. Here he is working seven days a week, and yet I'm too exhausted to wake up at a reasonable hour on the weekend.

Eventually I showered up and Dad & I went and got a pizza at Papa John's before Mom returned home from work.

Next, when Mom had arrived she needed some assistance with some home finance record keeping on the computer. I helped with this, going over some Microsoft Excell tricks. I needed to burn a CD per request for one of my college friends. This particular friend had some had some moderately snide criticism of the blogging world. Sounds insanely jealous if you ask me. His skill sets reside more in the wild wild world of internet profiles. Ahh... what can I say people can't all be as awesome as yours truly.

Onward, into the evening, I visited with my Aunt Virginia in Auburn, and finishing up the night I went to Rosie's... a small bar in Portland's Old Port. It's a bit quieter than the typical establishment making it more effective for good conversation. It is one of those unusual places where you actually have a chance in hell at hearing what you program into the Juke box. Tim Hayes, Brandy Rogers, John Madden, and Michelle Arsenault all were there for the merry spirits.

I crashed on Brandy's futon and the next morning Brandy, Tim, and myself indulged on some Cinnamon buns that Miss Rogers had concocted. Later we caught the Patriot's Game in which Buffalo luckily dropped the ball, literally at times. John, Tim, and myself went outside and tossed around a football for a while. Eventually John punted the ball and got it stuck in a tree. Tim and I spent twenty minutes trying various creative ways to get it to fall out. I climbed the tree and shook the branch. Tim handed me a broom. At first I swatted at branches close. Ultimately the broom also got stuck in the tree out of reach. Still perched up in the branches I broke a small limb and used it to dislodge the broom. I continued shaking the branch for about ten minutes straight. (You can't doubt my persistence!) Next Tim decided to get a big rock and try to hit the ball. After about ten tries, instead of hitting the ball he clipped one of the branches which held it and the tree released the ball. At this time I headed back for supper with the folks before finally going back to Melrose.

! May your week bear the fruit of prosperity and joy ! (cough, cough... Ahem)