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Posts Tagged ‘Marblehead’

There are certainly times, like last week, when I can do a lot of complaining and feel fully justified in doing so.  And then there are days like today.  Sunny, mid 50s and spring is in the air in this beautiful New England seaside town.  So, I spent the morning at the beach with my little family (even the dog).   Searching for Periwinkles.  Splashing along the shore line.  Hearing them call out in high-pitched voices as they discover something new.  Breathing in the ocean air and thinking…wow.  Thank you…

For curiosity
For carefree splashing
For tiny hands…and frog boots
For this foolish but good-hearted dog
For the way he loves them.   The way he loves us.

For all of it.  Thank you.

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Who’d you think I was talking to?

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Grocery shopping
Rock throwing
Life’s alright…

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35 degrees.   School vacation week.  About an hour before naps.

Perfect.
        
Go nuts, my little men.  Go nuts.

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You? Ick.

Hey You.

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.

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I live in a small town and recognize that this is a somewhat risky post.  I’m irritated enough at the moment not to care.  But, if the post disappears sometime, you know why.

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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.

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‘Twas Christmas Walk weekend and in old Marblehead

There was Santa by boat, there was Gingerbread
The town was a twinkle with white lights galore
Trees on the roof racks and wreaths on each door
But that Saturday night there was more don’t you know
We looked forward to a party Chez Matt and Chez Mo
7:30 the start time but we called the sitter that night
“Can you come a little early, so we can grab a bite?”
At just about 7 we sat down at the bar
The Barnacle, our choice — from the party, not far.
He ordered a vodka with olives, you see
So I stepped up to the plate with an appletini
Then a second, which was clearly my downfall, I fear
I should have known better. Husband ordered a beer.
An old sot named Victor had us chatting, its true
But I wish Vic had told me “Dear, the drunk here is you.”
So then off we went, down the street just a spill
Where I presented my cheese platter, then it all went downhill
“Chardonnay? Oh, yes, please. Oh yes, sure, another?
I know you from t-ball? Isn’t that guy your brother?”
“Have you met my husband? He’s a big Yankees fan.
Do you think that Tiger is a really good man?
What’s your opinion on health care? Oh, what did you say?
I’ll just stir up the pot and then saunter away.”
“Have you seen my husband? He was just here, I think.
Oh well, I can’t find him, wanna go get a drink?”
Well, he found me, thank goodness, not a moment too soon
And brought me directly to the food table room
Where I made an attempt at some crudite
Or some crackers, whatever, I just couldn’t say
But then talking and walking it seemed was a struggle
So I leaned in and listened when Husband said with a snuggle.
“Party’s over, I think. Honey, don’t you agree?
It’s time to head home to two seventy-three.”
I briefly protested but then acquiesced.
“Let’s go,” he said firmly, “You’re a bit of a mess.”
So, please let me say sorry to my host and hostess
For ducking out quickly, no doubt for the best
The party was fabulous, from what I recall
Good food and good friends, the event had it all.
And I am so sorry that I couldn’t attend.
And hope you’ll invite me, when you do it again.

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