In which a baggy old kayak woman and a grumpy old growler provide great entertainment for some cool left-coast kiddos
It is one of those days. I have about 55 half-formed blahg posts in my head but I can’t flesh any of them out into something intelligible and coherent. Y’all (all five of you) are thinking a couple things: 1) your blahg posts are unintelligible and incoherent *every* day and 2) why the heck do you blahg every day? Yes to #1 and it feels worse lately. That’s not because I don’t have anything to talk about. It’s because the twists and turns of my life lately have been entwined too closely with those of others. It is a fine line between telling your own story and mangling someone else’s story. On the internet, no less. #2? I dunno. Because I am afflicted with hypergraphia. Anyway…
It was late afternoon here on the Planet Ann Arbor. We tore ourselves away from an absolutely gorgeous beach day in the Yooperland this morning and slogged along down the I75 SUV Speedway home. We are (regretfully) missing the Piedmont 4th of July party yet again but my personal and work lives are balanced rather precariously at the moment and I cannot afford to take days off here and there if I ever want to take an actual vacation. You know, the kind where you actually don’t go to work (or telecommute) for a week or two. So, here we are. The GG was in train-wreck mode, crashed out on one of the couches in the Back Room and I was hannnggging around on the internet…
My phone vibrated. A text message. With a photoooo… From the Callyforny Beach Urchin. On Ocean Beach, to be accurate, with friends from the Mission Mission blahg. A short text conversation ensued and it is warm on Ocean Beach (fairly unusual) and BBQ and faaarrrworks and I fergit what else are on their agenda and I guess everybody was getting a kick out of yer fav-o-rite blahgger’s goofy texts. Which is okay with yer fav-o-rite blahgger. Our agenda? A ‘hattan and maybe we’ll throw the salmon I got this afternoon on the grill. We’ll see. We are so boring, we’re turning into our grandparents… Er… Not that they were exactly boring…
And, to those who are wondering (and I know a lot of people are). When Elizilla moved to Callyforny five years ago, she told me that she would move back to the [god-forsaken] midwest someday. Not yet. Not that I know of. I may be the first to know when she actually has a plan to move back “here” (the Midwest covers a lot of territory) but I will not know before then. My kids do not talk to me about every little detail in their lives and that is [usually] okay with me. I certainly didn’t tell The Comm everything either.