35 degrees. School vacation week. About an hour before naps.
Posts Tagged ‘Marblehead’
Yes, You. You, the woman in the big ole’ white Mercedes Benz.
You. The one that refused to move aside on the street today when I clearly had the right of way on that narrow, old town street meant for horses to pass alongside one another…not my SUV and your Benz.
Yes, You. You, who saw that big old pick-up truck parked on your side of the street. You who chose to speed up towards me instead of moving aside behind the truck so I could pass first.
Just so you know. I know you now. Because, I saw your vanity plate pass by as I was forced to barrel my Jeep onto a sidewalk, narrowly missing a mailbox.
It’s a memorable plate, lady. You probably meant it that way.
But, I’ll tell you what “WKG MOM” in your giant Mercedes Benz. I know one thing. Even without your poor driver etiquette.
Yup, I know one thing for sure. Call me crazy, but it’s just a hunch I have. You and I, Miss WKG MOM? Nope.
I wouldn’t have liked you, anyway.
I had lunch yesterday with a girlfriend of mine. One of those friends with whom I can discuss anything, say anything, do anything. We lived together in Boston once upon a time and, while our other two roommates were off at their own jobs, she and I spent all day long in pajamas, playing hooky from work, watching ridiculous television, eating like pigs, laying around like sloths and laughing….our…asses…off. She does that to me. Every so often she makes me belly laugh so hard that I can’t breathe. Isn’t that the best feeling? We all need more friends like that.
Anyway, the point is, we can talk without any screening. Which makes me somewhat hopeful that I wouldn’t actually have the following conversation with anyone else.
Me: So, how’s she doing?
Friend: Oh, terrible. She’s so lazy. I don’t even know if she has a job. She has no motivation. Living with her parents. It’s pretty bad.
Me: Oooh, do you think she’s ON DRUGS?
I mean, really. It was barely out of my mouth before I realized how I sounded. OLD. O-l-d, OLD. Christ. It rattled me.
I think I need to get out of my Mommy cocoon, score a joint somewhere and collect myself.
‘Twas Christmas Walk weekend and in old Marblehead
I’ve spent the last four and a half years on a whirlwind tour of New England residency. Left Marblehead (and a full time job as an event planner at a big corporation) in July of 2005 for Vermont. “Threw it all away” with my husband and new baby in favor of “the country life.” And we did it to the letter — I even managed a small inn that was the epicenter of the quintessential New England town where I grew up. Across from the general store, down the Village Green from the post office. My husband left a successful Cleaning Services sales job in favor of insurance sales for a small agency owned by a close family friend. We loved it. Our son (then 6 months old) thrived. He spent two days a week at daycare, two days a week with my mother and since I worked Tues – Saturday he spent one day just with Mom, one day just with Dad and Sundays were VT-freakin’ perfect. Wide open spaces, pig roasts, a commute past more cows than cars. We loved it there. We also struggled to make ends meet although we both held “real jobs” full-time. We struggled to find our place between the extreme haves (multi-millionaire 2nd home trust fund beneficiaries) and the extreme have-nots who, really, are what I believe make Vermont such a fabulously special little state.