michael, di and sarah

The news of Sarah Palin's resignation hit me hard coming so soon after the news of Michael Jackson's death.
There have been a few news events in the past, say, 20 years that have made me long for my journalistic roots at People magazine. Yes, I was there (okay, I was a copy clerk) for the very first issue in 1974.
When I heard in May 1994 that Michael Jackson had married Lisa-Marie Presley, I didn't believe it at first. It was too good to be true.
Then, on one Sunday at the end of August in 1997, I was sitting in a tiny church in Missouri listening to a Christian Identity preacher rant against homosexuals, African-Americans and the media ("the business of the journalist is to destroy truth, to lie outright, to pervert, to vilify, to fawn at the feet of Mammon and to sell his country and his race for his daily bread") when I heard that Princess Di had died, "hounded to death by the Jew media."
I was working for Life magazine at the time, and oh, dear god did I ever fiercely wish that I was fawning at the feet of Mammon right then at People magazine in the Time-Life building in Jew York City instead of singing the Doxology at the Rose Hill church wearing a borrowed skirt.
And now Michael Jackson/Sarah Palin. If only he had willed her custody of the kids.

wow

dreamers

When I woke up this morning, I had to keep my eyes closed until I could remember where I was. I started with the place and worked my way up to the 15th floor and into my old bed. It took a while. Last night I slept on the couch above (though not with the Animal) and the night before I surfed the couch at Claudia's Surf City and the night before I was in the big bed there.
Then I remembered that it was Independence Day, which may account for the troublous dreams of mother, daughter, past and future lovers.

next adventure—not!

She was in the left lane, traveling fast. As she was passing a black sedan, the tire exploded. She sledded to the right verge and stopped just before ramming the caution sign.
As this is the third truck mishap this season (to recap: alternator, brake lines), I believe she is trying to tell me something. This just as I was planning to drive to North Carolina and points South.
I think not. Graceful retirement is at hand.

darkness at noon

Midday yesterday it suddenly got dark. And then kaBOOM!
And then, of course, it rained and rained and rained and now there is a lake under Hannah's Hideaway. Thankfully, it's on piers.
I am taking the 10 o'clock boat off island today and wending my way home for the fireworks over the Hudson River.

are you old fashioned?

Today I have to wash and try to avoid ironing the dresser scarves. When was the last time you heard the phrase "dresser scarf"? Do you even know what one is?
At Claudia's Surf City we also have a record player. And a lot of records. Remember those?There are as well dominoes, a sifter, a potato masher and an eggbeater.
What old-style stuff do you keep around?

matching profiles

The past month on the family compound, on the banks of La Mer Gasnerre has been an anthropologist's dream vacation. First came my family, in all their tall, blond glory, who have two generations of lasting relationships with my former in-laws. Then came my ex-family, in all their dark and shining splendour, to pay obesience to the matriarch and patriarch (age 97) of their family. Then came the children of my former husband, the eldest 39 with children of his own the same age as my ex's youngest: 5. The grandkids call him "Ampa Ougie"; their uncle is a playmate. Needless to say, we all tried to learn the iterations of kinship. I once more learned the difference between a second cousin and a first cousin once removed, which I will have forgotten by tomorrow, and rediscovered the pleasures and perils of living in an extremely complex clan.

brothers and sister

All of Dada'a children—and one very happy puppy—reuned at the compound.
Depite all the innoculations, Ruca has some tick-born disease, Lyme's or Rocky Mountain Spotted fever, and has to take doxycycline for a month. However, as long as it's disguised as a piece of cheese, she doesn't mind a bit.

sick puppy

What is wrong with Ruca? No one knows, and so she has left the island to go to dog hospital. Stay tuned.

luck o' the irish spring

It's hard to know what has discouraged our ten-point stag from chomping down the garden so far—the fact that the tomatoes are not fruiting yet or the fact that I took Ricky's advice and festooned the perimeter with tin cans containing Irish Spring soap. Supposedly it smells as nasty to deer as it does to me. I read a study done by a state agriculture department showing that Dial soap worked better than any of the commercial deer repellents, but Ricky swears by Irish Spring.
Ed says it works because leprechauns whack their shins with little shilelaghs.

find the sailboats

the storm trisail

Waiting for the Storm Trisail race to pass—and the storm too.
I have always heard that if you want to know what owning a sailboat is like, you need to get into a cold shower with all your clothes on and tear up hundred dollar bills. That seems to be especially true this Block Island Race Week. But there's plenty of wind.

great second act

She lost her husband tragically to brain cancer; he lost his wife publicly to another woman. Now they're happy together.

happy solstice

It seems to be a good thing for many that the longest day of the year is drawing to a close. Let's hope things improve starting tomorrow.

screw the acupressure bands

If you're prone (or prostrate) to seasickness, you should really get one of these babies.