The beginning of something amazing.
June 27, 2023
I haven’t been swimming yet and it’s almost the end of June. We tried yesterday; made it to James Paul’s pool, peeled off clothes and settled on lounge chairs. While I waited to feel my skin grow hot and ready for a plunge, thunder clouds rolled in, followed by thunder.
If there hadn’t been kids’ watching, I probably would have jumped in, just to say I’d been swimming. But there were, and so I slid back into shorts, folded my towel and went inside to watch golf. The afternoon improved drastically over dinner at Legal Seafood’s, which is even more of a treat than a ten second dunk in ice water. The Cucumber Margarita was a revelation, but, and James, don’t take this the wrong way, calamari is better fried, sauteed, the tentacles just look too damn naked.
This summer, Sophia won’t be back at her post near the fence in our tiny yard, yelling at people, then daintily nibbling treats from their hands. But Bernie and Nell have taken up the job. They have also continued the cookie party tradition, and gobble biscuits every night before bed. These last longer, since they spend a lot of time sniffing around under the covers, snorting and looking for crumbs. Sophia never looked for crumbs.
I thought summer would feel different, now that both my kids are older, and don’t rely on me to remember the sunblock, nag them about jobs, or a curfew.
It doesn’t.
I grew used to swimming at our town pool by myself by the time Katy was nine. When she was twelve, the only time I’d see her at Canobie Lake Amusement Park, was when she needed money for snacks or souvenirs.
When Katy, me, and some friends, went to the amusement park last Friday, she ate dinner with Amy and I, and paid for her own burrito. I did Venmo her money for gas, but she hadn’t asked, and let her take the car so we could leave early. She left fifteen minutes after we did. I think Katy’s almost my age, sometimes, at nineteen.
I do not miss the days of helping tiny bodies wriggle into swim suits or tracking Colin’s movements on Find My Iphone- (though the only outcome from that fun game was a series of mean text messages I’ve managed to forget and the knowledge that he needs to figure out where is he is and where he wants to go, without my help. That might take some time, but I’m not watching the clock or the calendar).
I will spend more time in the city, exploring the neighborhoods I used to live and remembering who I was when I lived there. I will check out a concert or three at the pavilion by the water. I will swim in the ocean at Nantasket, and in the lake at Ponkapoag. I will get to know the attendants at Cunningham Pool, so they are forgiving when I forget my pool tag.
I will use sun block and eat local. I will help Sheldon with the garden and check out the comedy at the Milton Art Center. I will spend time with friends, in person, and will learn how to use SnapChat because I look so damn cute in the filters.
I will stop fussing that it’s the end of June and I haven’t been swimming.
It’s only the end of June; I have time to go swimming. I have time to go back to Canobie Lake Park to try the roller coaster we didn’t have time for, ride my bike to Boston along the new bike path, and eat ice cream in a parking lot, quick before it melts on my shirt.
It will end up on my shirt, anyway.
And, honestly, who cares.
It’s summertime. I usually have a change of clothes in the car.
What’s on your list?
Happy Birthday
July 26, 2013
Today is a big day, it is my birthday. For three days, I’ve been thinking- Do I write about this? Do I not write about this? Do I have anything profound and/or funny to say about birthdays in general or my birthday, specifically?
At first, I considered writing about the time I truly realized that I was going to die someday. I was in my 20’s, never really pondered mortality that much, (kind of strange considering my father had done just that a few years before,). I remember laying there, on this huge bed, trying to figure out how I felt about the fact that someday I was not going to be around. I was eating Greek pizza from a place down the street. I remember wondering if maybe I should try to go back to college so I could get a really good job and have the money to buy organs of the black market. I remember putting on the soundtrack to Dangerous Minds and dancing around to the song “Gangsta’s Paradise” so I’d stop thinking about it. Twenty years have gone by since my obvious revelation and I’m still not happy with the idea that my life has a preordained, unsatisfactory conclusion.
That’s a little too gloomy, and besides, it’s a bit boring.
So, I approached my topic from another angle. What about if I simply examined…
Me. I could talk about how I’ve changed thru the years. These days, I’m sunny and easy going; before I was described as flighty, dramatic and moody, ( the vodka gimlets and copious amounts of wine might have had something to do with the latter.) I eat salads with fruit on them, and l admit, in the midst of my very closest friends, to listening to country and western music. I am a dog woman, formerly a devout cat worshipper. I am even tempered, where as before I was one of my very favorite hobbies was to indulge in the great pleasures of the wallow.
And I want to go back. Just to the wallowing, (I really like salads with fruit, and easy going is kind of a nice way to be). I would like nothing more than to put on a pair of ugly pajamas, poor myself a glass of wine with a screw top cap and indulge in a boatload of self pity.
My one birthday gift was that Colin consented to help Katy clean up the dog poop in her room without me having to beg him.
There is no cake anywhere in my immediate future.
And it’s raining just enough so that I have no hope, even with the assistance of a blowdryer, product, and a straightning wand imported from Italy, of having even a tolerable hair day.
I shouldn’t feel bad. My girlfriends took me out to dinner the other night. And they remembered without me dropping even one hint. And it was good. I only wish that in our little foursome, I was still Samantha, the tall blonde with the sexy voice and nasty sense of humor. These days, I’m afraid I’m Miranda. With thicker thighs and less promising career.
But-
My brother in law sang me happy birthday this morning.
We are taking my son to Six Flags on Tuesday for his birthday and I really, really love amusement parks.
And though it’s raining, and there is no hope for my mane, it’s not raining hard enough to keep me from walking the dogs.
And, if I really want cake, I can stop at the store and pick one up on the way home.
Because that is the person I am now.
I let myself wallow, but only for fifteen minutes at a time.
julierichmond 