Staycation

Yeah that's right I said it. Staycation.

We went away for 6 days but didn't fly, didn't leave the country we didn't even leave the state. We stayed!

I will say this about our trip, we have traveled far and wide and haven not encountered so much adversity and weirdness. Don't get me wrong, I had a hell of a time, but we really had a lot of obstacles to overcome and just flat out wacky stuff happen.

First off we had an uninvited guest. His name was Danny and he proceeded to piss all over us and our fun times. It rained our first 2 days of vacation and I'm sorry to say that, for some of our friends, this was the only time away they had. We tried to make the best of it but just ended up with soggy shoes and dampened spirits. We finally said F U mother nature and took the coolers, cornhole and chairs down the dune and sat in the drizzle on the beach. We used the beach umbrellas as...well...umbrellas and defied the elements for about an hour and a half before giving in and heading into the 'combah.

As usual we got beers, steamers and oyster shots. The Beachcomber is my happy place. I love it there and it was the only thing keeping me from being livid about the crappy weather. Usually we can get out of the bar without incurring any injuries, but alas the evening resulted in a swollen eye (I walked into a door. The bathroom doors at the comber are set up poorly and one opens in while the other opens out and I was stuck in the middle of it.) and a broken foot. The broken foot was not me it was poor Jenny who got stomped on by some dude on the dance floor.

Then on to Nantucket where we had beautiful weather and I was able to get in the last beach days of the season. Good sun was absorbed and I may actually keep the tan till October. The house we stayed in was beautiful and perfectly located (albeit jam packed with spiders) between town and Surfside beach. There was a tiny path that led to a nearly deserted beach and Michael and I decided to take said path via bicycle. Well...it was adventurous and really fun in an exhilarating sort of way, but I did fall off the bike and that has resulted in a decent case of poison ivy on my butt. Michael has it too on his wrists. I think from helping me up? I don't know. Whatever, we both have poison ivy and I'd much rather have it on my wrists than on my ass, thank you very much.

Anyway, we ate at two insanely good restaurants while there. Black Eyed Susan's is the home of the best linguine and clams ever. Yes, faithful readers, I have found my death row linguine and clams and they reside at Black Eyed Susan's in Nantucket. We went to LoLa 41 as well and that place was very impressive. I had the sesame chicken noodles (I love a good noodle, people) and it was delicious. When I inquired about the dish the waitress said, "it's a brothy dish." I said, "so it's soup?" She reluctantly agreed it was soup. What do Nantucketers have against soup that the waitress couldn't call a spade a spade?

Sigh...we are home now and even with all of the adversity, I'd rather be on vacation than sitting at work in my veal crate of a cubicle.

Bottles

If you read with any sort of regularity you are going to scratch your head on this post unless I do some splainin. This morning Michael and I were out for our Saturday morning walk and we stumbled upon a recycle bin full of these crazy old bottles. We were flummoxed as to why some one would just get rid of these things, some of them were really impressive! We started picking through and one of the neighbors came out and started picking through with us. As it turns out this woman and her husband had been caring for her next door neighbors through 20 years of sickness, including Alzhimers. "You see", she said, "we're trying to get into heaven." She gave a little chuckle and I told her she has a great running start, if kindness gets you there. The neighbors have finally died and she was hoping that they would throw the bottles out so she could have her pick of them. She took most of the bottles and invited Michael and me over for a glass of wine some day. They were about the sweetest old couple I have ever met. The pictures below was my pull from the bin. I am posting this because I am going to post the link on an antique bottle site message board to see if any of these are worth anything. Start from the bottom and go up when viewing.

Mung Sucks

Alright kids we're going to have a little lesson in New England beach attendance. Pay attention there may be a quiz later.

1) The water is cold. Even at its warmest it is still pretty effin cold. I have learned to adapt and swim when it's bone chillingly frigid, especially when you have to climb up a 50 foot dune to get to a bathroom. Which leads me to the next point...

2) The dune at Cahoon hollow is designed to break your spirit. You really don't get the full notion of what you're getting into on the way down. When you do arrive at the bottom of the dune and turn around it's really daunting. You know you have to climb back up there at some point. By the time you get back up to the top with all of your beach going crap you're hot and sweaty and any sort of refreshment achieved by aforementioned cold water is gone, baby, gone. Here's a tip; avoid Cahoon Hollow beach when Aunt Flo is in town or you're having any sort of tummy trouble or when the water is "munged in."

3) The stuff in the water is called mung. It's seaweed I suppose, but this particular brand of seaweed is called mung and it is pretty nasty. It happens all over the Cape and it's a roll of the dice where the oilslick like black mass of crap is going to strike next. When it's really thick the waves don't crash on the shore, they more land with an ugly thud. Like someone hitting a big plastic bag of water with a bat. It has a faint smell to it, nothing crazy, you can only really smell it if it's really thick. Hearty New Englanders will brave the soup and swim in it. One friend of ours has even suggested that the mung soaks up the sun's heat and makes the water warmer. Interesting theory. I mean it does make some sense.

Anyway.

People may wonder why we live in such a place. Deathly cold winters. Barely there summers. Beaches that you have to pack a defibrillator to get to and from only to find out that the water looks like escarole soup that has been sitting out or 3 days.

My answer comes in the form of another cape experience. We were sitting at the Combah (the only beach bar on the cape...no really I'm not kidding it's the only one) and there was a couple from Montreal that kept asking us questions about the cape. They were surprised, and I think a little disappointed, that the beach was not built up. I think they were looking for Miami beach and got turned around at some point. They were intrigued. What do you do here? There 's nothing on the beach You can't stay at a waterfront hotel! What do you DO here?

I pointed them in the direction of P-Town and told them to explore the town centers. There are tons of galleries, shops and restaurant there. Our beaches are as nature intended them to be, condo and hi-rise free and the most peaceful place on Earth. The wonderful thing about it is that there is nothing. There is only something if you want there to be. The galleries and shops are where they should be, in town. The beaches are free of the modern world.

I challenge you to find another 43,000 acres of undisturbed beach. That's why we love it. I can't imagine living anywhere else.

I Fell Down and Alicia Got Married

You wouldn't know it by all the attention I draw to myself with my big mouth and my online blithering, but being the focus of attention of a large group of people makes me want to pee my pants. The only part of my wedding I dreaded was the part most brides relish, the grand opening of the doors to reveal the bride in all her glory to the 100+ onlookers. All eyes on her. No thanks. I was totally freaking out on my wedding day about being the focal point of so many people. So when Alicia called and asked me to do a reading at her wedding I was humbled, touched, honored and terrified. I would never say no. I love my Alicia and I wanted to be close to her wedding and help in any way I could. So of course I said yes. I wanted to do it, I really did. But I knew the nerves would kick in. I'm glad I didn't know further in advance because I would have obsessed for longer than 10 days.

For the 10 days between the receipt of the poem and the wedding I looked at and recited the poem at least once a day. I practiced when I would breathe. I tried to memorize parts so I wasn't looking down the entire time. I practiced when to swallow so as not to let too much spit collect in my mouth (trickier than you might think!) The poem wasn't long but it contained words like "disdained" and "thine" and the ever feared "clasps." Go ahead, try to enunciate "clasps." It's a tough word!

The day of the wedding I was nervous. I recited the poem in the car on the way up to NH. Then a couple of times in the hotel room. To soothe my nerves my husband drew me a bath and made me some tea...uh ...not!!! To compound my nerves my husband revealed that he had forgotten his dress shoes at home (an hour away) and had to run to the mall to get a pair to wear to the wedding. Awesome.

When we arrived at the wedding my hubby, with his spankin' new kicks, dropped me and our friends that rode with us off close to the entrance. I stepped out of the car and right into a drainage ditch which, if you read with any regualrity, you will know is my one billionth time falling down while perfectly sober. There are two funny things about this fall:

One - I am geting so good at falling that I didn't hurt myself at all. My shoe is a bit scarred but I was remarkably unscathed.

Two - As soon as I fell my nerves calmed down dramtically. After I fell I was not as nervous. Weird.

As I sat in the chair and watched one of my best friends marry her one and only love it all became clear to me. I was so nervous because Alicia deserved perfection and I didn't want to ruin her day by flubbing up my lines, but the event was so moving, I began to worry I wouldn't be able to get through it without crying!

Well, I did it. I fought the nerves and nailed the poem. Even "clasps" came out as nicely as "clasps" can. I was so happy to be a part of the perfect day.

Alicia, if you asked me to I'd stand up in front of the world and have a zillion eyes on me.

But you'll have to supply the Depends.

I am Channeling Tippi

I really do wish my lunch breaks were less exciting. Maybe the city of Boston is channeling my husband from Brighton and trying to prevent me from spending money? Whatever it is, it's starting to get annoying. Yesterday it was the ugly dress brigade and then today I'm attacked!

As a follow up to my last post, I must tell you that I found a great dress at the Alter Eco in Allston. A sweet little vintage looking 1950s style dress that looks pretty nice on me. Excellent.

Now for shoes. I needed a new pair of black pumps anyway as my old ones are no longer wearable. What a perfect excuse to shoe shop. Yay!! On my way to DSW I was walking down Washington St when someone stepped out of a side street and disturbed a pigeon and it flew up and straight into my head. It batted me with its wing and flew off.

First of all, it scared the bejesus out of me. All I could think about was Melanie Daniels getting out of her rowboat (that she was using to stalk Mitch Brenner) with a bloddy head. My head could look like that!! Or even going the way of poor Annie Hayworth. Avert your eyes Cathy! Avert your eyes!

Secondly, gross. City street pigeions are nasty, filthy, disgusting creatures. The fact that a grody 'ol street pigeon was that close to my face is unnerving.

Such is the life of a Downtown Crossing office worker. At any given moment you could be pooped on or hit or puked on...not to mention the crazy pigeons!

Oh and I found a pair of pumps at Marshalls.

Slacker

Yes that is me. Slacker. I haven't posted since April? And that was a youtube video?

FAIL.

Anyway, enough self degradation. I mean, life has been pretty smooth lately. That is, until I attempted to find a dress for my friends wedding.

At the last minute, I was asked to do a reading for a good friend's wedding. This means I have to learn a poem well enough to not make an ass out of myself in 10 days. It also means I need to buy a dress. I mean I guess I don't need to buy a dress, I suppose I could get by on what I have, but I think it would be nice to buy a new dress for such a special occasion.

What in the blue blazin' hell has happened to dresses this season? I went everywhere and I can't find anything that isn't butt-ugly for less than $300! WTF? Don't these people know that there is a recession? I have to be in love with a dress to pay more than $150 for it. I went to Marshall's, TJMaxx, Macy's, H&M, Filene's Basement (who by the way had like 10 dresses in the whole store. It's June, people. Why are you out of dresses!?!?), Banana Republic, The Gap...I mean I have left very few stones unturned here. I found nice dresses but they either didn't have my size (is everyone on the planet a size 8??) or they were just WAY to pricey. Out of desparation I walked into Ann Taylor. I mean it's worth a try right?

Sigh. I walked in and the rack of dresses they had on the first floor were weird looking so I continued up to the second and third floors to no avail. As I decended the stairs the sales girl asked if she could help and I told her I was looking for a dress. She brought me over to the rack of weird looking dresses and said, "You should try on one of these."

I said, "They're weird looking."

She said, "They look great on, very flattering to the neckline."

OK I'll give her a chance. I mean I own a few dresses that looked rediculous on the hanger but once I had them on they were great. But this dress was sort of cone like, small at the top and flared at the bottom, sleveless with a very high neck and a ruffly collar. Not big ruffels. But big enough to have me call them "ruffles."

I tried on the dress and it looked exactly like I thought it would, like a cone shaped bag with a clown collar. Flattering to the neckline? I was so distracted by the clown collar I didn't even notice I had a neckline. And it was $130. Bwahahahaha!!

I'm running out of time and retail options. I should probably stop focusing on the dress and start learning the poem.

Ballroom Blitz