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Saturday, September 08, 2007
To all my FLA peeps. I love you but you just don't get it. In a place where it's warm year round you just can't understand the excitement of a 90+ degree day after Labor Day. It's like a gift from the otherwise dormant summer gods. Today was such a day. Today I squeezed in my last beach day.
I got to the train station in plenty of time so I bought my ticket and headed over to the 7-11 and bought a Harper's Bazzar and a Cosmo (Cosmo was promising that I could shock my man in the bedroom, how could I resist?) and set off for the last beach day of 2007. Heavy-ass bag over my shoulder (the Harper's mag was the "biggest issue ever" in hindsight maybe not the best choice) I hopped the train and made the trek to the Singing Beach in Manchester By The Sea. Once I got to the beach I walked through the parking lot and down the sidewalk. The singing beach is not big so it fills up fast. I was trying to get the lay of the land and pick the best spot for my late summer sunbathing adventure when I stumbled on a rock and fell down. The heavy-ass bag took me right over, I had no hope of catching my balance with that stupid Harper's mag in the mix.
On my way down I thought "Oh my god I fell down AGAIN! Two times in one summer!"
So with my pride bruised again and my knee scratched up again I made my way to the spot that I had seen just before the big collapse. I laid down my blanket and turned around to find the people behind me settling in about 3 feet away. Uh...WTF??
Whatever, at this point I was more concerned with the bloody, sand covered wound on my knee. I decided to take a swim to wash it off but found the water to be ridiculously cold. Seriously, I have developed a pretty good tolerance for cold water but this was too much. I knew when my feet hit the wet sand; it was offensively cold. Not even the water, the sand was cold. So I made it in up to my calves and splashed some water on the wound to clean out the sand.
Salt water heals all.
Back at my blanket I struck up a conversation with the guy next to me because, well...they were three feet away so if you can't beat 'em join 'em. I mentioned my fall and he went fishing in his wife's bag and came up with a medicated wipe. I gladly accepted it. Then I read the package...
Tucks Take Alongs: Witch Hazel Hemorrhoidal Towelette
What was I going to say "No thanks my knee doesn't have hemorrhoids?" I read the package carefully to make sure there was no actual hemorrhoid medication, it was just witch hazel, placed it on my knee and laid down in the sun to reflect.
So let's sum up.
I fell down again. My last beach day consists of falling down and then laying in the sun with a hemorrhoid pad on my knee, reading Harper's Bazzar. Have the models in these ads ever laid on the beach with a hemorrhoid pad on their knee? I think not!
So that was my last beach day of the summer. Could have been better.
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Wednesday, April 02, 2008 -Celebucat-
Well, it was bound to happen. The Foz is famous.
http://www.stuffonmycat.com
Has he let it go to his head? Absolutely...or maybe it’s just spring fever.
In the summertime we always have the windows open. We have AC only in the bedrooms and we strictly use it a few nighs a year when it’s really hot. So the cats are really into the whole fresh air and outside noises thing. They love to spend time on the three season porch and we usually leave the kitchen door open so they can chillax out there. Lately, as the weather has started warming a bit, the Foz has taken to testing the waters, if you will. He darts out the kitchen door into the three season porch once or twice a day to see if it’s warm enough to hang out. He makes his escape and hangs out there for about 3 minutes, decides that it’s frickin cold as hell and signals that he wants back in. What’s funny is that this has only been going on for the last week or so. It’s not like it’s gotten that warm out and we certainly haven’t opened any windows yet. Somehow the Foz knows it’s almost time to enjoy the fresh air and warm weather. Spring is on the doorstep and the Foz is acutely aware.
Puxsutawney Phil watch your back. I’ve got a 18 lb cat that wants your job and he ain’t afraid of his shadow.
I’m right there with you Foz. I need the warm weather soon.
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Sunday, April 13, 2008
"So How's Married Life Treating You?"
I think about 7,000 people have asked me that and my knee-jerk reaction is "not much has changed." Really there isn't much different now from before March 15th, we handle everthing like we did before.
Actually, that's not entirely true. Something has changed.
Last weekend Michael came busting in the front door going on about a cat in our tree. I said, "Is it one of our cats?"
He said "No."
I said, "I think you should just leave it be."
He said, "But the kids are scared."
For those of you that are not in the know, we don't have kids.
So I looked out the window and there are the two Latino kids from accross the street. I think they must be about 5 and 7 years old or so. Very cute. They are standing there, demure faces, staring up at the tree in question, which, by the way, I can't see from the window. With a roll of my eyes and increasing unease I put on my shoes and head out into the front yard.
Michael and the cat are in the tree. Michael is gently trying to calm the cat and lift it off of the branch without getting shredded. The cat is no more than 8 feet off the ground. 8 feet! The cat could make that jump easily but Michael feels that it's necessary to be the neighborhood hero and save the cat's life.
I promise, I'm getting to the point.
Michael says, "Come around the tree and I'll hand you the cat."
Pre marriage answer: "Puh-leeze, I'm not letting you drop a freaked out animal with claws and teeth on me from that tree."
Post marriage answer: "ok"
I went around and took the cat from Michael and, thank god I was wearing a sweatshirt because he totally let the claws fly. Was my decision to catch a falling cat because of a temporary shut-down of my sensibilities? Or was it because my husband, not my boyfriend, asked me to do it?
After the cat was safely on the ground I turned to the kids and asked, "Is that your cat?"
"No"
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Tuesday, April 22, 2008
"The sea was angry that day my friends." - George Costanza
A few weeks ago I did one of those dopey surveys and one of the questions was "Pool or Ocean?" I answered Ocean. I have always preferred the ocean to the pool. I like the motion of the ocean, baby. This in mind, when Jenette and I made last minute plans to head down to the Bahamas for a long weekend, one of the things I was looking forward to was swimming in the ocean. It's been a long winter and going for a swim seemed like heaven.
Our first full day there was very relaxing indeed. I hung out on the beach and read a magazine. When I got hot enough I went in the water for a dip. The waves were pretty big and the under-tow seemed strong, but I'm a fairly strong swimmer and felt as though I could handle it. I swam out past the break and hung out for a while, when the waves seemed to calm down I tried to head in to resume my relaxation. On my way out of the water a woman on the shore pointed behind me and said "Hey, watch out."
Where ever you are, lady on the shore, I thank you because if this wave had caught me by surprise I may not be writing this right now. I turned around and the biggest wave I have ever seen was quickly approaching. Actually, let me qualify that statement. It was not the biggest wave I have ever seen, per se, but definitely the biggest that I have ever seen coming right at me. I don't know how big it was but I had to look up to see the top. I was standing at a point on the shore that I'd have to run back to dive into it (which I didn't think I'd have time to do before it broke) and making it to shore in time was not an option as the previous wave's backdraw was preventing me from walking effectively. In hindsight diving in was probably the right call but I was a bit freaked out and the thought of diving into a wave that size scared me a little.
The wave hit me hard and tossed me ass-hole over ear canal, upside down, right side up. I am extremely lucky that I didn't hit my head in the fray. The mighty Atlantic deposited me, like seaweed, onto the shore. I felt like a shipwreck victim. I had a half pound of sand in my hair and another pound or so in my swim-suit. I had to go back up to our room to shower off and change suits.
The remainder of the vacation I swam in the pool and sat at the swim up bar.
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