Hello on Saturday Morning

Dear Friends,

Friday was a pretty pleasant day except for the drive home from the game. We started off at the yarn store in Northampton. I sat in the "husband chairs" while Linda poked around in the store. After an hour or so, she made a few purchases. We left the store, and headed toward Gillette Stadium.
At a rest area on the Mass Pike, an hour or so from the Stadium, we had a little picnic.
We arrived at the Stadium before the gates opened, but this wasn't a problem since some of the shops surrounding the Stadium are now open. We only went into one store "Pro Bass Shops". It is the fourth largest store in the country. We only had time to peruse a portion of the first floor. I know that some of you readers might think that this place is designed strictly for men, but it is not. The gender friendly place has enough in it to keep women happy for several hours.

We got into the Stadium parking lot from the store very easily. Linda and I weren't doing any grilling so we were looked like a couple of lost souls sitting in our chairs, and having some cold beverages, next to smoking grills.
In no time at all, we talked our way into tailgating with three women and one guy from Concord, New Hampshire. One women, who was in charge of the grill, did it all. Her twice divorced man friend, whom she met on line (soon after her divorce), just sat in his chair, and was waited on by the woman. Linda and I ate their hot dogs, hamburgs, and pork ribs as well as the usual salads.
We said our "Thank You's", and headed into the Stadium about 30 minutes before the game started.

The Patriots looked absolutely awful. At the end of the third quarter, we had seen enough. This is when the trouble began! Because of the parking lot that we were in, they made us leave in the opposite direction of the way which we wanted to go. I made an incorrect turn a few miles down the road, and we ended up in a liquor store in West Roxbury (just outside of Boston--with a high murder rate) asking directions. Visualize a tall version of "Curley" from the three stooges trying to get me back on the highway to eventually reach the Massachusetts Turnpike heading west. We did eventually succeed getting back home, but our heads didn't hit the pillow until 2 AM. We should have arrived home near midnight. A GPS system could have been very helpful if we owned one.

Linda is still trying to recover from the driving home adventure. I am trying to be extremely quiet, but the telephone just rang with a recorded message from the Berkshire Eagle saying that the newspaper is delayed, and that they are trying to resolve the problem.

I am off to a "guys only" clambake at noon.
Linda just wants to be left alone.

A friend invited Linda and I to go to a newly opened restaurant in downtown Pittsfield for supper this evening. Just what I need after spending the day eating and consuming beverages all afternoon long. I am going to suggest that Linda go with another girlfriend, whose husband is out of town helping their son move.

Well, I have to get back to my quiet chores.
Talk to you soon. The Curley Lad