family affair

Ok, so there we were on the family compound: the ex-sister-and brother-in-law, the wife, the husband, the former girlfriend. If you can parse this you must know my family fairly well. And it was a beautiful evening of sunset and clams with the interactions flowing every which way, old times and new, art and greed, island gossip.
And here's a bit of a roundup.
Speaking of family, Hannah's Calm-A-Mama products are soon to be on the shelves at New ngland While Foods stores. Demand them in your local emporium. And she tried to calm a famous mama suffering postpartum depression here.
Speaking of Hannah, her friend Rachel Hulin continues to get great press for the First Instagram Novel, here in the Washington Post and Wired.
And speaking of ex brothers-in-law, John's friend Jeffrey Millstein has a big photo exhibition of aerials.
And speaking of photographer friends,  Chien-Chi Chang is giving a talk in Bangalore, if you happen to be there; David Burnett is interviewed about his astonishing career; Maggie Steber's pictures of New Orleans 10 years after Katrina are featured in a new book (Donnaa Ferrato is also featured, but more on that later).

desert island

Taking defunct porch furniture to the dump. Doing wash. Paying the lawn service. Putting away the chaise lounges. Turning off telephone service. You know, like that.
   And starting to book for next summer! It hasn't even gotten cold yet! The seasons are starting to bleed into one another like a sunset and the sea.
  

why i haven't posted

. . . and then some! Yes, it was a gala last-gasp weekend with Donna and family and Ali and family and me and family. Six kids under five. We had mostly gorgeous weather and great food. And today the island is dead silent. Empty. The stores are closing. This is the end of season.

happy birthday!

. . . to Ed. May tout va bien!

Seduced by Jamie (and her niece Maggie, aka Gallery Girl), I acquired some kultcha at the new Whitney. Beautiful day, beautiful building, beautiful people and a surprisingly beautiful collection of awt.
No regrets.

island bound

On an island the weather seems like a bigger deal than elsewhere. The days when the ferries don't run mean no mail and milk, no dentist visits or hospitalizations. You're very much on your own.
   The tides were high and the swells were swelling, but I made it across the sound and to the mainland, the last car to get on the boat of the hoards lining up. I left my tenants with trepidation, but apparently they are rugged sorts—their adult children made it over for the weekend on the last boat. I arrived, providentially, in Providence.
   Tomorrow I plan to head south, with a stop at South County Hospital, where a Block Island friend (Edie, for those who know her) is stuck until her missing gall bladder and the weather cooperate to allow her to get back home to the cottage her grandfather built well more than a century ago. Speaking of rugged.

battening down

It's going to blow. That much is known. Whether the ferries will run  or not, whether hurricane Joaquin will come up the coast—these things we don't know. But I am going to make a bolt for the village. See if I can get on the boat standby this afternoon.

the girl stands by her work

Others have work as well.
Per Time magazine, Hannah's friend Rachel is publishing an illustrated epistolary novel on Instagram.
Also per Time, Chien-Chi's book Jet Lag, which I helped edit, is about out.
Hannah's high school friend Lin-Manuel Miranda just got a MacArthur grant for his work, including the musical Hamilton, which can be streamed here.
Our doctor friend Robert Bobrow has started publishing a column on HuffPost, and you can read his second entry, The Sunny Side of Depression. Please like him on Facebook so he can garner a following.
And, just for fun, here is an archive of Ozark folk songs from folk who toiled in obscurity pre Internet.

it begins

View of eclipse  from the porch of Claudia's Surf City.

and it ends.  A total eclipse. And we begin again.

let the fall festivities begin!

Now arriving from NOLA

This time, it's my season. One more rental week in one more house and then—fun and frolics! Hannah et al arrive today. And but for a dash to NYC next weekend, I plan to stay til Halloween.

two views

John's big house and kite store (taken from Hannah's) for sale $1.2 million

Kate Knapp's view of John's house (and Hannah's) from the beach.

blown away

Well, something's growing on the dunes in front of the house—not the rosa rugosa that was deplorably planted (according to the President (Emeritus) of the Garden Club. Dusty Miller (wormwood, call it what you will) is thriving as are a few clumps of beach grass. I hope they cling to life, as hurricane season is upon us.
BTW, Internet issues at my dwelling (as always).

summer's end

One last beach day, and now the wind has begun to howl. Better than a hurricane—it's sunny—but unless you want sandburn, the beach better wait. I have moved into Claudia's Surf City after a weekend at Hannah's Hideaway. Will be here for the rest of the season. There's one more week rented at Hannah's, but it's all houseguests all the time from here on out.
  Also, does anyone want a washer/dryer or refrigerator? They have minor issues.

post prexy

 You will be charmed to know that I had the treat of visiting with the ex President of the Garden Club and her delightful and talented seedlings. And the ex-prexy's gardens were looking fabu too, though she claims a long dry summer.

child's play

Child's play: The Wend in the Willows

Adult's play: Hold the Phone

piece of cake

The theme, as you cannot tell from this picture, was unicorns. The weather was uncooperative but still permitted of  cake and a pinata in the back yard. They came, they played, they ate and they sang. Camilla requested the piece of cake with the 5 on it. Happy birthday!

first day

And off to preschool, nervously speaking with a Larchmont lockjaw accent.

boing

Just can't make up my mind: city/country. Love both, so keep on boinging between the two. Boinging off again tomorrow, to see some country friends in another city.

hot town

 Some cityfolk stayed in town this Labor Day weekend. Partying in Tribecca with Donna Ferrato and a cast of real characters. Partying on the Upper White Side with former Time Inc types. Good food, good company, good times. And no traffic!

labor

There are no unions for waitresses. And every night when I saw the waitress who works at the cafe across from the Goose putting the chairs on the tables and mopping the floors after a long day of few customers, I felt terrible. (Disclosure: The woman in the picture is not the waitress but a friend who I asked to stand there—I felt too awful for the waitress to ask to photograph her in this depressing way.) The real waitress always seems cheerful, doesn't complain about the dearth of diners and so of tips. I think her mother is the cook. There are women all over this country trying to support their families on 50-cent tips and dollar-an-hour wages. Even if a higher minimum wage is enacted, it won't affect them. All I can do is overtip.