My family is arriving in Cambridge tomorrow, after a whirlwind tour of New York City and a detour enroute to sweltering New England; they stopped at an outlet mall somewhere along the way on Tuesday night, they browsed in airconditioned comfort all of today and they’re fitting in more shopping tomorrow morning because the baby was fussy today and my sister didn’t get to each of the stores on her targeted strategic map. (Don’t be mad, O beauteous Sister-o-mine! I’m only teasing you because I love you and I hope you’re buying me presents!)

Anyway, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that…

… there’s room for the shopping bags in the boot. (”Boot” is one of the few linguistic leftovers I have, which for some reason hasn’t gotten transformed into “trunk. “Boot” and “lift” are almost it (I cannot say “elevator.” It makes me feel vaguely ill). On the other hand I do usually say “line” for “queue” these days and have almost forgotten that trash cans are called “rubbish bins” if they’re in the kitchen and “waste-paper baskets” if they’re under your desk. Aaaanyway.)

… they make it to Boston without Asher throwing up in the car.

… they don’t get lost! No! Getting! Lost!

… they like what we’ve done with our apartment.

… they like the apartment I sublet for them. I just remembered it doesn’t have sheets or towels! We should get those tomorrow.

… my parents look rosy, happy, and free from annoying health issues.

… my mom feels as beautiful as I know she looks. (She had surgery a bit ago — nothing serious — and feels a trifle self-conscious.)

… the baby doesn’t cry when he sees me.

… the baby doesn’t cry when I pick him up.

… the baby doesn’t cry.

… a bunch of other stuff involving the baby and bodily fluid. Just so we’re clear, I’m hoping for. no bodily fluid interaction.

… that it’s sunny and breezy and lovely like it can be here at its best, so they get a nice welcome.

Fingers. Crossed.