Monday, August 15, 2005

The good, the bad, and the boring

Hmm, it's been a while. Where, oh where, to begin?

Well, I've been in New Hampshire for almost two weeks, and I'm having an excellent time. I've made some more progress cleaning through the accumulated grime and clutter, plus we've purchased a new king-sized mattress and boxspring so we can fwomp I MEAN SLEEP in style. Also a new living room sofa and some gorgeous mahogany dining room table and chairs. I've also picked up a few souvenirs and discovered some great shops in the Market Street area of Portsmouth.

I got a library card at the local teensy library--so cute!--and have finished reading all six Harry Potter books, so I'm starting on Philip Pullman His Dark Materials trilogy. Big fun.

Plus I plan to pick up a few seafood cookbooks and start waving a briny spatula about real soon now. It's just that it's been so nice to let That Stud Muffin I Married do all the cooking, heh heh heh. But soon I will start cooking seafood--which of course, I never bother to cook in Chicago--but yay, now there are local lobster pounds and fish stores, tra la.

So that's the good.

The bad? It's so damned picturesque that after a while, your eyes beg for mercy. "Please!" they scream, "no more seascapes--no more 18th century houses--no more windowboxes teeming with gorgeous flowers, no more arbors draped with roses--NO MORE."

Of course, when that happens, I just tell my eyes to FUCK OFF and go on my merry way.

The boring--well--moi. Because my weirdo hippy Hare Krishna mother-in-law just visited while my WASP-y Wellesley-educated Republican mother was in town and no fireworks erupted. The walls still stand, the roof is intact, and basically, that star spangled banner still waves / o'er the land of the free and the home of the cowardly.

OK, so I planned it so they never actually saw each other. Call me a chicken. Lambaste me for my lack of imagination. This is my vacation, damn it. I want to drink cocktails and go out to dinner and shop and hit the beach. I don't want to hear any crying or whining at all--this is true for my kids and especially true of me.

Sooner or later, things will get dramatic. Meanwhile, I'm boring.


1 comment:

  1. No fireworks, huh? Will your next blog entry detail your pact with Satan?



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