I've Heared Some Things You Couldn't Print in Papers Sunday, October 12, 2003

Home again. A swonderful weekend in Boston with my in-laws and their smarvelous kids. I made friends with a pudgy egghead who crawls like a kimodo dragon, and a bruiser who loves Spiderman, karate and throwing apples. Mrs. WTJ made objets d'art with kiddo number three, the eldest, whose birthday we traveled to celebrate. She was dressed as a ghost at her own party. I've been there!

Drunk with fellow-feeling I even started rooting for the Yankees. Or I should say: I stuck up for my neck of the woods. I am from Queens, which seals my baseball loyalties, but I will goddamned if I let a New York team go unrooted-for in a hostile city. And oy vey, what a game to be partisan about! That town hasn't stopped rioting since Crispus Attucks. The game also provided a perfect crotchety bonding moment with my father-in-law, who, as ever, found himself outnumbered in a room pulling for the Red side.

Great singing time in the car with Mrs. WTJ. The faves: "Oklahoma!", maybe the best singalong cast album ever; "Kiss Me, Kate," during a performance of which I proposed to her (she said yes at intermission, after I ran to pee); and "Cabaret," a downer, but Liza still blew the roof off our Saturn. We tried singing along to St. Frank live in Paris, but his phrasing is too goddamn tricky. Besides, we were tearing through a cinnabon the size of a hubcab.

Got home and promptly dropped the iPod from a great height. It never fails.

@ 6:35:00 PM,

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