Driving by farms, horses and cows ignoring us in their fields, warm summer air blowing through the windows, radio playing LOUD, kids chatting in the back seat, dappled sunlight coming through the trees on our way to the lake for the day, this is how summer should always feel.
If only I were at Home Depot. Is that bad? That I wish that?
I wish that my children were happily engaged at someone else's house. If I were working, guess where I would wish to be? With my children, at the lake. Don't even talk to me about how messed up my whole psyche is. Like yours isn't. So I have everyone else's kids over our house to compensate for my lameness and so I can get stuff done. It's not so bad, the kids have a good time and I occasionally accomplish a thing. Or two. Okay, never two.
Everyone else works. I am the only person in the world without a job. I just made a Capacious sandwich! It tastes Anxious! Mmmmm, anxious.
I wrote a post a while ago about our time in Amagansett with Stephen's family. It was lovely. Nobody even fought or threatened to go home or anything:
The sea was very rough during our vacation, due to Hurricane Bertha. You don't meet a lot of Berthas these days and honestly, I found this one a little tiresome.
An older gentleman approached me one late afternoon and said that he thought it was too dangerous for the children to be in the water. The boys love the danger of the waves and have no concept of mortality, a bad combo. I felt that my parenting skills had been disparaged by this man and was a teensy bit resentful but decided that I would feel really, really, like, omigod, totally bad if my kid got killed and it was all my fault for not listening to Mr. Rational and finally made Tiny Toe get out. He was FURIOUS with me, yelling and actually crying real tears of fury. The next day another guy met me on the boardwalk and asked me if my body wasn't sore after being tossed around in the waves like that. Uh, no, I try to have people throw me around like a sack of rocks every day, my body is impenetrable, unable to feel pain, and by the way, it's not that rough out there, it just LOOKS that way when you sit your judgy ass on the beach all day and watch other people swim in the crazy dangerous surf. He then said, "Does that blonde kid belong to you, the little bag of sticks?" The Bag-o-Sticks is mine, and I whup yo ass wit dat little thang. I have no argument, I just like to pretend that I do.
We hadn't been paying much attention to the news as the TV was set on the All-Mets, All-The-Time Channel, but my in-laws mentioned that people had drowned in New Jersey and Rockaway. That's when I made Tyson stop going out beyond the breakers. It's the loveliest thing to float up and over the waves but the current was scary strong. At one frightening point, I had him hold on to me with all his might while I swam as hard as I could to get us to shore. We called the current the conveyer belt - we would get in and there we would go, waaay down the beach. We would get out, walk down the beach and do it all over again. Wheee! Until you don't come back, yo. Seriously, I feel terrible for those who lost loved ones and I'm so grateful it wasn't us. My idiocy is not proud.
One night we crossed the road to get dinner. When we came back, Stephen and Ty crossed first. I had Toby's hand and told him we missed our chance to cross and would wait. He slipped out of my grasp and ran into the road. Luckily the car that would have hit him had slowed down enough to not hit him. Heart Attack #259. I am always grateful that we come back from vacation alive and well. This time is no exception.
Now, on to Yvette Mimieux. Never heard of the woman, not even once. She was a clue in the Times crossword on Sunday. Stephen got it, as he knows every movie star ever. We brought a movie for the kids that never got watched, The Time Machine, but guess who was the star? Yes, you are correct. You are amazing. THEN, the SAME DAY, I was reading "I Was Told There Would Be Cake," by Sloane Crosley, and it turns out she was named for a character played by....freakish, no? Yvette, speak to me....tell me, Yvette.
We stayed with friends on the Cape and had the luxury of visiting the private beach with many steps:
We went on a whale watch and saw a gazillion whales (yeah, a gazillion, that bothers you? You need a more scientific term? I amuse you, like a CLOWN?), more whales than you even though existed, the whales were just jumping out of the ocean and signing autographs and sitting on our laps, trying to bum cigarettes (we don't even smoke but we kind of wish we did) and all sorts of annoying whale behavior. It was crazy. I did not take pictures because our friend took a lot of pictures, more than his wife would have liked, probably, more than any person needs more pictures of more whales than they got last year on the last whale watch with the last year's whales. I told Stephen that he could take a picture of a whale if one of our children was riding on it or I was kissing it, otherwise, no, we don't need more pictures of whale tails, I can get good ones on the series of tubes that is the Internet. I'm such a biotch. It really was amazing, and Toby is completely ruined for any future whale watches as this was his first one and he had whales going through his pockets for change and asking him where he got his hair cut. Like that's ever going to happen again.
Anyway, sorry I've been away for so long. I'm tempted to provide you with a list of all the things I accomplished but it's too boring. Oh wait, here it is. Glaze over NOW:
- Garage, cleaned and organized. Now messy again already.
- Basement painted, new rubber floor.
- Kitchen painted, cabinets will never be finished.
- Deck cleaned and stained. Haven't finished. Building some sort of awning overhead. Not finished.
- Stupid mulch still on the driveway, still not finished either. I just get so bored.
Yawn.
