In which we drop in on winter in New England.

As previously mentioned, I made a short trip to New England in November to spend Thanksgiving with my family and meet the newest family member. My brother-from-another-mother fetched me from Boston and we immediately headed north to Portland, where we were to attend a rockin' concert that evening. We made it to the quaint coastal city after a cozy caffeine&sugar break in Portsmouth, and checked into our hotel, where a bigtime culture-shocking event was underway. At this point I was still in the slap-happy phase of sleep deprivation, probably looking like I was at the end of a transatlantic journey and dragging a huge, red suitcase fulla presents behind me like Santa Claus. It was then very surprising to roll into the lobby and find myself surrounded by made-up, sparsely/sparkly-clad and stilettoed ladies of all ages, men in suits of various sorts, and music blasting around the open hall. A plastic banner announced some sort of ball, and the nice lady at reception was happy to inform us that it was a NASCAR ball. "It's NASCAR," she said with an expression that could have leaned towards sarcasm, though after discussion in the elevator it was agreed that she was truly excited. And who wouldn't be? Additionally, they were giving out packets of Goldfish at reception, making all the more reason for merriment.

There was still a little time before the concert, and after deciding it would be too dangerous to take a little powernap, we went out for a divinely delicious meal across from the concert hall instead. The concert itself was packed, as it should have been with the magical powerchops of the musicians on stage. Unfortunately I crashed about halfway through and was grateful x10 that we were staying about a 5-minute walk away from the venue. The balling was still going on when we got back to the hotel and we had to wait around in the lobby for revellers in various stages of drunkenness and footware to figure out how to work the elevator in front of us before we could have a turn.

We awoke the next morning to a sunlit Portland and a sky full of blue. After hitting an uhmayzing bakery, we meandered our way to New Hampshire to visit some other not-quite-related family, were we were warmly welcomed with wonderful smells and much delight. (Thanks again!)    
 

Unfortunately we couldn't stay long, as we had a date to meet the niece and quite-related family back in Boston.  So off we drove into the late afternoon.

(I'm pretty excited about this picture:)

Seeing my brother and his family for the first time in a family way was positively overwhelming, all in positive ways, from the first greeting to the creative, best-dad-ever applepillars to cuddling with my beautiful, kung fu sleeping, gangsta niece (see photo below below below and all will be clear), at that point not quite three weeks old.

We spent a few quiet days together, time plotted by the departure of my Maine brother and arrival of my New Mexico mother, now featured in the role of grandmother for the first time. We went for a couple strolls and ran some errands in the bleak November weather.

"Have you hugged your pest management professional today?"

Our journey to Vermont for Thanksgiving festivities with my sister-in-law's family was delayed by a day due to a winter storm, though fortunately my Dad's plane made it safely to Boston from the Great American Southwest. The parentals and I thus stayed an extra night in the comfort of friends before making the drive north on Thanksgiving morning, by which point the roads were clear and the scenery was impeccable.

We made it to Thanksgivingland with plenty of time for socializing, baby burping, and a dinner that couldn't be beat.

An additional delight was the adorable little cabin the parentals and I shared at a B&B in the area, looking picturesque under its blanket of snow both night and day. Another plus: breakfasting with wonderful hosts, among whom were a poodle, a corgi, and a Great Pyrenees. Oh, be still my heart and be full my doggie deficit. 

The next days were spent in the company of family -- playing music (and Pass the Baby), going for walks, eating leftovers. The only disheartening factor was seeing Ritter Sport chocolate for sale in the local if-we-don't-have-it-you-don't-need-it shop. I've got nothing against kimchi corn chips or maple powder or any of the other silly or exotic things on sale in this crunchy Vermont town, but the fact that you could get my most-gifted German chocolate there made it seem a lot less special. (Though the fact that they sell it there means that people need it, so maybe not sooo not-special. And naturally the imported Ritter Sport is waaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy more expensive than in the Deutschland.) But anywhey, back to the New Englandy winter scenes.

(Had to do it:)

As they always do, the day of departure finally came. The parentals drove me back to Boston to catch my flight back across the Pond, but not before I'd said a passing hello to the Connecticut River, tossing some greetings downstream to be fished out in Northampton.

I arrived back in Hamburg in a timely manner and had to be at work again the next day, though my motivation to do so was more than lacking. This round of goodbyes was particularly hard because of this little bumble bundle (see below; photo by her parentals), and because I don't have any set date for another visit at this point. I knew it wouldn't be easy when I decided to build a life here a few years ago, and it's not -- especially during times of great family joy and great family grief. But of course, the life I have here is good, and we'll just have to keep figuring out ways to mesh continents whenever opportunities arise.