Smoky Pig at Pooky Beach

Ahhh, yes, well, you're wondering the same thing I am, I can tell! WHY am I not at the beach? Why?

Let's see, we'll go over the criteria:
1. Gorgeous, hot, sunny July day.
2. Puffy clouds.
3. No obligations or activities requiring that I be elsewhere.
4. Plenty of sunblock and reading material in my beach bag.
5. Car loaded with beach items.

So, where am I? I'm at Pooky Beach, a.k.a., the first floor deck of my apartment. I am watching the smoker. Husband has tucked a seasoned picnic roast into the smoker, and in exchange for my vigilance, I will be treated to mouthwatering, melty, delicious, lipsmacking smoked pulled pork, roundabout, oh, 9PM tonight.

Pooky Beach has a lot of advantages, including wireless access, a conveniently located loo, cold beverages, and a nice breeze. No waves. I have to fault it for that.

And, on a side note, last night, I was transported back to my senior year in high school/freshman year in college. Husband and I attended The Police reunion concert at Fenway Park. It was hot, muggy, disgusting, amazing, loud, incredible. I wouldn't have missed it.

And to think I almost did.

You and Your Planet

This is a very cool site from the New Economics Foundation. There is a Happiness Index survey as well, so take it and learn what I did: I have the same happiness index as someone living in St. Kitts, Nevis, or the Sudan.

Who knew?

Personally, I wouldn't mind moving to St. Kitt's or Nevis. Perhaps my Happiness Index would go up!

The One Ring

Okay, so I admit it. When I first became engaged to Husband, I referred to the ring he gave me as The Eye of Sauron. But, in all honesty, it did look like that giant, red pulsing eye poised between the two pillars at the top of the Tower of Mordor.

But we had it reset.

And I fell in love with it.

Which brings me to yesterday, one day after my second wedding anniversary.

I managed to accidentally flush my beloved, custom, Daniel Spirer-made engagement ring down the industrial strength toilet at work. (I'm not making this up.)

It used to be on my hand, covered with memories. Now it's in a sewage pipe, covered with poo.

I am so devastated. I spent most of yesterday crying. Today, I'm just tired and angry with myself and really sad.

The One Ring has returned to Mordor.

Brief, Midday Work Rant

Oh, I'm sorry....I've only been writing and editing for 20 FUCKING years, so I'm really, really sorry that yet again, I turned a complex piece around on a DIME yet, you, oh petite Vice Bitchident have decided that my short, sharp, powerful, memorable headline "sounds funny" and want me to rewrite it.

Oh, goodness gracious! I guess I must have once again FAILED to think about my word choices. Oh, yes, that must be it! I was once again dumping loose mental stool all over the page! Silly, silly me.

I will now be in the bathroom, trying to extract the painfully pokey disappointment stick from my gut.

ARGHHHHHH!!!!

Random Post-Vacation, Pre-HP7 Post

And yet again, I am shamed by my utter and complete lack of skill with the English language. The GFY gals have pulled another literary gem from their collective bag of cultural couture criticism with this beaut: "The flame of my hate candles..."

WHERE do they get this? Am I just not reading enough of the right stuff? Is it too much nonfiction history of the world via some specific subject Mark Kurlansky inspired kinda stuff? Do I need more Jane Austen? Is that it? I'm Austen-deficient and so will never really be lyrical, right? I was the lame English major who thought that nonfiction was more interesting but could never really embrace journalism.

Okay, so vacation was nice. Good to spend time staying up late talking with my husband. I really, really missed just sitting and talking with him. And yes, we did more than talk, I mean, I'm not that boring.

Here are the top ten chunky nuggets of vacation fun:
1 fabulous beach
2 bored but adorable lifeguards I've known since they were about four years old
3 delightful women in the prime of their lives
4 tuna sandwiches
5 bottles of Trimbach Pinot Gri
6 bags of recyclables to bring home to Cantabridgia
7 weeks of summer left to enjoy
8 tomatoes from the Cape Ann Farmer's Market
9 stripers caught and released
10 hours of the densest fog I've ever seen

And that's plenty, I think.

Happy Independence Day

Long time, no rant. I'll spare you all the Scooter Libby commutation comments, in honor of our foreparents, who are, I'm sure, rolling in their respective graves.

So, try to celebrate the original spirit of this country, because the current practical reality is sure a long way off from that.

So Happy Birthday, US of A. This year's gift: More executive hubris. More corruption. More King George.

Maybe next year, we'll do better.