Monday, August 06, 2007

In which Poppy risks death for her art

I was thinking of taking the kids to the beach, going on another photo safari, and maybe getting the car washed. And so, of course, it rained.

Then I decided to run a couple of errands and take the kids for lunch--fried calamari for them, and a lobster roll for me. I'd take awesome foodie pictures of the local clam shack and ice cream joint--I'd show off my mad food photography skillz for my blogging audience, and they would leave me all kinds of comments about how awesome I am! And so, of course, my camera battery was dead.

Therefore, you'll just have to take my word about how awesome lunch was. My son and I shared an order of steamers that were so good we moaned aloud and thrashed about orgasmically, and we'll never be allowed in the restaurant again. Then my children ate their fried squids, and I had the first lobster roll of the summer.

That damned lobster roll was so good that when a blob of lobster salad fell on the deck, I did what we all spend years teaching our children not to do. I mean, how disgusting to pick your food off THE FLOOR and eat it, but I did. I sure hope nobody saw me do this. It would be so embarrassing to have anyone except the entire internet know how I wallow in filth.

OK, maybe not filth. After all, we were outside, so my salad didn't fall on a creepy restaurant carpet; it fell on some weathered deck planks. We were overlooking a marina, listening to the cries of the gulls, and admiring the boats. So I think I'm safe from everything except cholera, e. coli, and tapeworms.

You did realize that I'm disgusting, right? OK.

Then I came home and found a working camera.

gutter

See? It really was raining. And just look at that gutter. It's practically falling off the house. And now you know why this house--if it actually had a name, a la "Windy Acres," or "Upson Downs" or some such folderol--would be named

bignapkin

I spent the rest of the afternoon walking around Deferred Maintenance taking pictures of the sublime

chandelier

and the ridiculous.

treeface

9 comments:

  1. Oh man. Is the creepy face on a tree? Because that's what people seem to do down heyah. Well, not out here in the Happy Valley, Behind The Tofu Curtain, but over theyah, in Worcester County, where trees are only meant to be decorated. Or desecrated.

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  2. I still think you're awesome.

    Even if you ate a blob of lobster salad that fell onto the marina deck. Anyone who wouldn't have done the same doesn't deserve to eat any yummy lobster roll goodness. Bastids.

    Like cholera, e.coli or tapeworms would stand a chance in the face of your awesomness...

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  3. Love your chandelier.

    Think of the lobstah (as MB would say!) roll diving as protecting the children.

    It is, after all, all about them, right???

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  4. Major B: The creepy face is supposed to be on a tree. But it was a Christmas present, and that means I can do whatever I want with it.

    If I do put it on a tree, it will be the tree I eventually hang my "SEE ROCK CITY" birdhouse from.

    Suzanne and Days: This is how the pros handle the situation. First say "Do NOT do this!" and then, in one smooth motion scoop lobstah salad off the deck and pop it into your mouth.

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  5. Where did you find that chandelier? I love the "bubbles."

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  6. You ARE awesome. No doubt about it. Lunch sounds yummy - and the dropped bit could come with a built in toothpick in case you need it

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  7. I was worried that what had fallen upon the restaurant deck was not, in fact, a wayward glob from your lobstah roll, but, rather, a hunk of steak that had stayed out on the kitchen counter overnight.

    THIS is why we love you. Because you have antibodies the size of oysters.

    -J.

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  8. The 5 second rule applies anywhere for me... unless there is a strong chance for seagull poop being present...

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  9. if it makes you feel any better, i'd have fought you for the blob of lobster salad.

    and that chandelier dealio is so cool.

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Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.