Voice Mail Archives

I went to a different library branch today than I usually frequent to pick up a couple of nerdy books about Chaucer. I hate going to a different branch, even though almost all of the town libraries have more convenient hours of operation than my local does. I hate it! Those strange, unfamiliar librarians! Those strange, unfamiliar floorplans! Those strange, unfamiliar Belarussian seasonal workers emailing home that are not MY Belarussian seasonal workers emailing home!

Hooray! I made it safely back from a stunningly fantastic trip to NYC, which you can read about here. It was a great break from the insanity of the end of summer on Cape Cod and the ramp-up to Labor Day weekend, during which I intend to revert to my old hermit ways and stay locked up in the house, and I had a ton of fun admiring the hipsters with their extremely Never-Seen-On-Cape-Cod clothing, and just reveling in being surrounded once again by people speaking lots of non-English languages, with lots of non-WASPy features and such.

We're leaving tomorrow early in the a.m. to take our wee vacation in NYC. Up at 7, catch a train in Connecticut at 11, then two glorious fun-filled nights at a posh hotel on the Upper East Side. All of this is, as usual, courtesy of the greatest Mother-in-law that ever lived, mine. She is the same benefactor that made our epic trip to Amsterdam possible last winter.

I've signed on to another massive project at work, which is why I woke up at 4:30 in the morning today and was unable to fall back asleep until I had churned out the documents that were dancing the mazurka in my head. So now, of course, I am fully awake and entirely insomniacal, and I don't have to be at work for hours and hours, which is probably about the time I'll feel like falling asleep again, so I got that goin' for me. Which is nice.

Wow, that was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

It was time for the annual barbeque at my mother's church today, and I was free, and so was the food, so I graced the joint with my majestic presence.

I realize this is a song we're all singing these days, but it is just stupid hot out. And don't give me some sob story about how it's hotter where you live, because your little game of oneupsmanship won't make either of us less hot. Although I'll admit that it probably is hotter where you are, because I live on a breezy ol' sandbar stuck out in the middle of the Atlantic, not in some foul city where the subways are ovens and the narrow streets trap the heat and restaurants stay open past 7:45 pm and serve something besides baked scrod and there is a chance of hearing music at least slightly more fresh and innovative than Don Henley.

I was a band geek when I was a kid, and a pretty damn good one at that. By which I mean it was equally true to refer to me as both Band Member and Geek. I played the euphonium, which if you're not a member of the Glorious and Resplendent Order of the Band Geek, looks like this.

In the latest episode of a seemingly endless series, I seem to be somewhat strapped of cash these days. Waifish in the wallet. Touchy with the tender. Light on the liquid. If you catch my drift.

Quite some time ago, I mentioned that my lame-o neighbors had decorated their lawn with lobster traps that have bright red plastic lobsters in them. Apparently they are unaware that lobsters only turn red when they have been boiled or steamed to perfection.