Cereal to add:

Ok. I'm back from WalMart with a new (and yet, somehow eternal) dilhemma- what to wear. I'd love to wear regular old walk around Boston clothes, but I'm not sure my sightseeing look fits in with a nice dinner look. All of this has to reconcile with my clean laundry.

Sigh.

We are partying.

Hooray.

Erin on the phone is being passed around. That beautiful Buffista phone slut!

Whew, people are moving from all being in the kitchen to circulating around the apartment.

Nilly is the Nilly-est.

I wouldn't have accepted Nora's time-sensitive invite, at all, because I could give a shit about being late and resent having to race against a clock to pay to sit at a restaurant just for the convenience of the people I'm paying to cook for me. I'd rather not go than get all stressed about going somewhere.

Yep, that's the part where I'm cool with it, nowadays; if you know you have an issue with time and don't want to deal with it, makes sense to me. It's the "absolutely, I'll be there at ten to six, no problem", get there at ten past eight, find a crowd of people shivering on the kerb and glaring and an additional ten bucks parking fee added, and the response of "what's the big deal, just be mellow, man, you're all trying to control my time!" 'tude that gets me. Best exemplified by lady called Toby, mother of Margot, daughter's best childhood friend; once made us miss a plane by showing to pick Margot up four hours late, and gave us the hippie rap about time being no big deal, and how we had to let it goooo, man. Nic had to be restrained from sending her to talk to God the hard way.

My grandmama, she was a tightass on the time issue, but she wasn't necessarily wrong. She disliked the entitlement behind that aspect of it, and drummed the same dislike into us by dint of major smackdowns.

How's the weather in Boston? It has to be seven miles better than the weeping fog that finally showed up here this morning. I'm sincerely grateful it held off as long as it did.

if you know you have an issue with time and don't want to deal with it, makes sense to me.

Me too. It's also why I'm so upfront about it, so there's no question of where things stand.

But, hey, I'm the one who doesn't go to movies because of the time sensitivity.

Weather in Boston is beautiful... quick update, then I need to get back to the party... damn, I can barely see because of all the flash.

Anyway, we (Jon B. and I) got Nilly easy peasy, got out of the airport and went to beautiful kosher Brookline, got kosher bagels, cream cheese and lox. Then we went to dinner, and brough Nilly back to Casa McWarin. She sent some emails to various people, and then the guest began to arrive. Jon B. had made up Nilly Tour buttons (he has a button making machine) and they were handed out to every guest upon arrival... much to Nilly's embarassed delight.

Who's here? Jon B., Jon B's new lady friend, DX Machina, Matt the Bruins fan, Nutty, Emily, vw bug, Topic!Cindy, Ellen S., Theodosia, Victor, thessaly, Tom, myself, and of course, the ever Nilly-est Nilly.

Gotta go. More photo ops await.

Who's here? Jon B., Jon B's new lady friend, DX Machina, Matt the Bruins fan, Nutty, Emily, vw bug, Topic!Cindy, Ellen S., Theodosia, Victor, thessaly, Tom, myself, and of course, the ever Nilly-est Nilly.

PARTY!

Nilly is very huggable. Who wants to be my witness?

It's the "absolutely, I'll be there at ten to six, no problem", get there at ten past eight, find a crowd of people shivering on the kerb and glaring and an additional ten bucks parking fee added, and the response of "what's the big deal, just be mellow, man, you're all trying to control my time!" 'tude that gets me.

I wouldn't have waited on the curb, shivering. I'd do whatever it was I intended to do, without said person. Don't show to get me to take me to the airport? I call a cab. I'm always prepared to do something independently, in case of flakiness. Because I'm flaky.

I hugged Nilly a whole lot. I don't ordinarily hug folks. Airports, because I assume I'm going to die in a fiery crash, I hug the person who took me to meet my doom.

Nilly, because she's a hugger. And also a talker. The thing I'll remember most about Nilly's stay is long philosophical conversations, and her talking me down from the ledge, twice. Poor Nilly.

I'd do whatever it was I intended to do, without said person.

Damn, I wish. Not always possible, though. Iin the case of Toby and the missed plane, it would have been child abuse; Margot was maybe six at the time and there was no place to take her and no one to leave her with. But honestly, we were less furious about the not being there to get her daughter when she said she would than we were about how clear it was that Toby was using time as a weapon and a power trip, and wouldn't cop to it. It's an extreme example - OK, every single dealing we had with her was an extreme example, to the point where her own kid called it "living on Toby Time" - but she hung a lot of people out to dry, and always demanded a pat on the back ("See? I'm humouring you by paying attention and you ought to be congratulating me!" was the most-often heard comment) when she was less than an hour late.

She lost at least one teaching job that way, as well; why she chose a profession in which the clock rules the universe remains a mystery.

Oh, and Nilly is extremely huggable, although I didn't do nearly enough of it, while she was here.

We are partying.

Hooray.

Seconded. Also, I miss Nilly already.

Erin on the phone is being passed around. That beautiful Buffista phone slut!

Nora! Dude! You are rocktastic!