Voice Mail Archives

It's starting to be all dark and spooky weather all the time around here, especially with the strong winds we've been having lately because of yet another fake-out-teaser of a hurricane/storm that is only coquettishly brushing our cheeks with the back of her hands. But at least the leaves are mostly still on the tress, because once they get over with that whole Gorgeously-Striking Colors and the Glory of Nature's Bounty in Autumn thing that they do, then they will just be bleak and skeletal. But hey, then I'll be able to see the river again.

I can always tell when it's time to take out my contacts for a day, put on my glasses, and give my parched eyeballs a break. It's when I have any dream that centers on me trying to find my favorite bottle of Sensitive Eyes eyedrops, and then I wake up and have to force my eyes open with hot, sterilized tongs.

Today was a day for fall chores, as I've got a big project coming in tomorrow and they're forecasting frost on any given night this week. I think it's unlikely to frost this early here on the coast, but whatever, I'll use it as an incentive.

How is it that another month has already passed by and I'm no thinner, richer, or more virile? Oh, right, because I never order products from late night television infomercials. Alas, then all I have left to console me is my

My brief experiment with catering on Saturdays is officially over, due to widespread protests from the lower back and quad-muscle lobbies. (I'm nothing if not responsive to my constituencies.) If I hadn't made this decision after last week's grueling experience, I would be working some seaside wedding right this moment. Instead, I am sitting on my ass, reading blogs and catching up on my Tivo'd Whose Line Is It Anyway (I'm an improv geek, and Wayne Brady is smoking hot.)

I really resent it when weather forecasters assume what kind of weather I prefer. Who decided that everyone's idea of "a beautiful day" was the same across the board? And who said they could make their cutesy little newscaster grimaces when it looks like rain and fog are on the way?

Ahhh, I love the glory that is Provincetown, that endearing terminus of Cape Cod, that swaggering shanty town that turns into an imported carnival every summer... even though every time I have an admittedly sumptuous dinner there, the consistently snooty, obviously transient, overtly gay waiters somehow manage to make me feel like a loser.

The plans and schemes for our trip to Amsterdam grow faster and thicker with each day. I have contacted everyone I know who has ever lived there, been there, or who might have thought about it in my presence, and as a result have unearthed three (3!) great good friends on the ground in Amsterdam who will be around to show us around. (In addition to my online friends who have supplied very welcome hints and links and information.)

Earlier this summer, we cleared the backyard of the rampant growth of Japanese Knotwood that had taken over back there. Knotwood is a vile, pernicious invasive plant that has taken over many roadsides and vacant lots around here, so we felt no remorse in opening a can of herbicidical whoop-ass on it. Also, the method used was groovy and organic, so we can preen about that, too. It seems to have worked, and all summer long I've been poking around back there to see what opportunistic planty things will move in now that the big nasty weed is gone.

The remnants of Hurricane Ivan blew through yesterday and took us all by surprise. We expected rain, but not the gale force winds and torrential rains of biblical proportions, as my husband put it. Of course this was the weekend of the wedding on Martha's Vineyard, so we were ferry passengers on the mighty Atlantic during all of this not once, but twice.