You're On Vacation, I'm Not ~ Blog 47

Fenway Park, from the third-base side roof.

During our first year in Salt Lake City, The Wife and I entertained 16 different groups of visitors. The majority of those groups were people I knew and the vast majority were my family. Despite the fact that they pretty much all live in Florida, my family is like that and I love them for it. They'll visit me anywhere.

And so it was last week that my 19-year-old cousin visited with his girlfriend. Ry Guy and Dutch were in town for three days. This is the fourth time since July that a member of Ry Guy's immediate family has visited. My uncle came with my aunt; My uncle visited by himself; Ry Guy's Sister came with her boyfriend.

I've gotten pretty good at the touristy thing in Boston. We paid for a one-hour tour of Fenway Park that was worth it just for the views from the rooftop.

And, as is the custom in our family, we ate like hungry wolves who have just discovered a steaming pile of tater-tot nachos. Those are an actual thing here in Boston.

Living in Boston is a test to a food addict like myself under normal circumstances. For less than $10 I can get a giant container of great Chinese soup down the street. I can get cheesey calzones, Italian pastries or fresh macaroni and cheese at Quincy Market.

At some point you have to say no. Or punish yourself, like I did Saturday with a self-flaggelation of a run. Daisy Duke and I did 2.5 miles, then I ran another 4-ish miles by myself while she recuperated. Nutmeg's Mom and Dad wanted to go out to watch an NFL game Saturday night; I had 1.5 Guinnesses (around 200 calories) and didn't order any food.

You have to cut yourself off sometime. So it will be tonight, as I travel to Maine to visit Nacho Man, The Bearded Beernut and Molly Lu. We'll have crem brulee and I'm sure I'll have my share. We'll go to The Great Lost Bear, where it's talls for smalls night. You can get most of their beers in 24-ounce glasses while paying 14-ounce prices.

Living here is a challenge because there's always an excuse to indulge. Whether it's visitors, great restaurants or great friends getting together, I don't have to look far for a reason. When we lived in the desert of Utah, 30 miles west of Salt Lake City, there were no excuses to go out, unless you count Tracks, the worst/strangest/best brewpub I have ever known, in scenic Tooele. It was easier to keep things under control there, even with the 16 different groups of visitors.

It really boils down to control. We've lived in Boston for six-plus months and have had about 10 different groups spend the night in our 530-square-foot condo. I love the guests; I love the food; I also love fitting into my pants.

That's why I'm going to the track right now to run six 800-meter repeats. Then Daisy Duke and I will go for a little jog. I know I'm going to spend some calories tonight but I can do something now to not feel like a total blob tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe I'll even enjoy a Guinness at The Great Lost Bear.