Where in the World Are MomQueenBee and Husband?

You'll never guess where Husband and I were last week.

Let me give you a hint: It's somewhere you can take a duck tour, so there's water. It's famous for its beans, so it automatically rates an A+ in my gastronomic rating system. (See also: MomQueenBee's Favorite Foods, a post I have yet to write but one that will focus strongly on beans.) It rather puffed-upped-ly calls itself The Hub, short for The Hub of the Universe, and also Titletown, so we know that it is far, far from Kansas and the Sunflower State's mealy-mouthed, cringing self-effacing self-image. (Seriously! They call themselves that!)

Give up? Need one more hint?

Boston! We were in Boston!

I may have mentioned once or twice or forty-eleven times that Boy#2 and his Lovely Girl are getting married this fall. Because the Parents of the Bride are energetic, generous, and well-organized, the planning of the Wedding of the Century Redux is mostly complete, but some final decisions were still to be made, including nailing down the menu for the wedding dinner. Tax season was over and my middle school accompanying gig is on summer break, so Two asked if we would please come to Boston for the tasting.

(All of you dear reader(s) of my general age group are now humming along with Dave Loggins. I'm not sorry, because this song was practically the anthem of my teenage years and I still love it.)

Anyway, a trip to America's Walking City would also be a chance to meet Lovely Girl's father. We had already met the Mother of the Bride, who is as lovely and energetic and gracious as you could wish the future mother-in-law of your son to be. And we could check out the matrimonial venues, and help with a move to a new apartment.

So off we went. I prepared as if we were getting ready to join a wagon train rather than boarding Southwest Airlines. Don't believe me? I have photographic proof:

Yes. That was what I carried onto the flight, which was scheduled to be five hours from Kansas check-in to pick-up at the airport in The Athens of America. I may have died from measles, snakebite, dysentery, cholera, or exhaustion, but I would never have been the one who starved to death on the Oregon Trail.

We were in The City on a Hill for eight days, and rather than try to cram everything into one post, I'm going to stretch this out interminably. Sit back and enjoy the ride. Also, have a pretzel, or a Rice Krispy treat, or a Fiber One bar, or a Wheat Thin, or a piece of fruit.

We've had plenty.