I know "townies" hate it. But I live here - yes, I know that DOESN'T make me a townie - and I actually enjoy YH. Pancake breakfast, music on the green, antique cars, balloon twisters, fresh-squeezed lemonade, penny candy, a fireman's muster. How can you go wrong at Old Fashioned Sunday?
Anyway, for those of you fellow Newburyporters who braved the "dreaded" tourists yesterday, hopefully you gathered up the kids, got blueberries in your pancakes, took a plunge in the dunk tank, rode around the Mall on the train and felt easy like Sunday morning.
17 July 2008
I know they've been here for days now. But early this morning, my son and I headed drove over to Plum Island for a little early morning beach action. I mistakingly thought that being 7:45am, those pesky greenheads might still be in a restful slumber. Wrong. If we walked, it wasn't that bad. But of course being 3, my son wanted to stop and fill his pockets with shells and examine seaweed on the beach. We walked a ways, but then even the act of moving didn't stop them from biting at our legs and arms. And those f'ers hurt! We had to hustle it back to the car, where we drove off the island with the windows up.
But the surf sure was beautiful.
01 July 2008
I'm angry that the Internet is slow. At the housing marking. That all my kitchen towels are dirty and every time I reach for a paper towel, I am acutely aware of my actions on Global Warming. I am angry that my son pooped in his underwear. Despite months of being potty trained. I am angry that he poured parmesan cheese all over the family room carpet. I am angry at rising gas prices. That our windows don't open wide enough to put conventional air conditioners in the house. That we signed a contract today for an inordinate amount of money to have one of said windows replaced. That even though I cleaned until 9:30 last night, my house still looks like a tornado swept through, favoring the rooms with the highest need for cleanliness: the kitchen and bathroom. That my dehumidifier is full....again. That I have to do laundry. At all. I am angry that I am dead tired after a workout at the gym. I thought it was supposed to leave you feeling "energized." I am angry that after 12 years, I still haven't written the next Great American Novel. That despite multiple promises to do so, I still haven't managed to be "ahead of the game" with my deadlines. I am angry that when it's hot and muggy, my feet stick to the floor. I am angry that I spent time organizing my son's matchbox cars, and they were all over the floor within 10 minutes of him waking. That I have insomnia. That I'm not pregnant yet. That I might be pregnant. I am angry that my neighbor somehow purposely altered his Chevy Blazer to be 10 times louder than it should be. That we have no grass in our yard. I am angry that I haven't posted since June 4. At those damn word verifications that, on a Mac, never go through the first time.
I think that's it. Oh no. One more thing. I am angry that I spent so much time today being angry. Today I nearly busted out of my clothes, turned green and wreaked havoc on unsuspecting victims. I needed to vent. Thanks.