Tag Archives: blogcation

Blogcation Day 8

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Last night I noticed as I parked the rental car that the outer casing of the driver’s side rear view mirror was missing.  Oh, great, I thought.  Did some aggressive Escalade driver nicked me in an East Hampton parking lot? Or was it some Hummer dude (because one’s driveway is technically off-road driving) who couldn’t fit his tank into four parking spaces and tapped my ultra-safe, unpretentious and family-like Volvo sedan?  I was still a little wrecked about it even though I realized that buying all of that rental insurance paid off big time.  That, and the GPS and the EZ Pass are all worth it, because family vacation drives are epic enough without the added excitement of not knowing where to go or scrounging for cash and change at the toll booth.  I am sure Suze Orman would say that these are unnecessary add-ons that cost me money which, if properly invested, would pay for my son’s education.  Well, I will figure out another way.

We went back out to Long Island to visit with friends who are just wonderful people.  Our son swam in the pool, while the adults just kept eating and talking (someone was always watching him and poised to save him).  Seriously, there was food to feed an army, which worked out well because people actually dropped by.  In New York City, if someone dropped by unannounced, the person would be labeled a stalker and a restraining order issued.

I had to stop eating because, well, I didn’t wear loose enough clothing.  Our son didn’t want to leave — why would he, when he got to swim, explore the nooks and crannies of a big house, and he was lovingly plied with cupcakes and given huge goody bag (big like a serious Halloween trick or treating night score) from the “candy drawer”.

We didn’t stay long enough (I was concerned about the Sunday afternoon traffic back into the city) and we love seeing them.   And it was nice that we had the rental car so we did not to have to ask them to schlep to us in the City. (One of these days, I will recount the crazy story about how we met this couple and what we have lived through together — but no names and not now.)

I was very apologetic and self-conscious about checking my blackberry for texts from potential sitters for our son and constant phone messages from the owner of our beach house rental.  My partner said she would speak to the owner and I was scared for the guy.  She will put an end to his hysteria — either with (i) a charming and gentle touch or (ii) a verbal dressing-down that would be grammatically correct with poly-syllabic words for which he would need the OED (Oxford English Dictionary — when we were dating, my partner had to tell me what the acronym meant and she didn’t break it off — see, she DOES suffer some fools).  All depends on his approach.   Be afraid.

We just finished a rousing game of FDF (Fresh Direct Football).  I stand in the foyer and throw the unbreakables to my son in the pantry who then runs them to my partner in the kitchen.  No spillage and no bruised fruit (although I am worried about the orange bell pepper).

Our son is now reading his encyclopedia of trains (a gift from our friends some months ago).  Recently, he said to me, “I am not angry at you, [Mom], but I just get very frustrated that you don’t remember the names and types of trains.”  Oh, sweetie, if only I could remember most things I once knew.  If only I were young with a sponge-like brain.  If we were really smart, we would take you to the gambling tables and you would win because you would remember all the card that were played.  Then I would need a faster car than the Volvo family sedan because I would have to out-run child protective services agents.

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Blogcation Day 7

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We decided to leave the rented beach house a day early and beat the horrendous weather. 

The owner of the house has been in a constant freaked out state that people would ruin his “expensive” stuff (not to be a snob, but it was IKEA and CB2 stuff; if it were Design Within Reach I would understand it), so I took pictures of every stain we saw on his self-assembled finery.  I also took pictures of the garbage piled up. 

I even emailed him the picture of the joint that gave way on the IKEA futon in the downstairs living area.  I tried to explain to him that we didn’t cause it but we discovered it when I, 120 pounds sopping wet, felt it give way as I sat down so immediately got up.  First he heard: I put my sopping wet dog on the couch.  I told him we don’t have a dog.   Then he asked if he could get this straight — that we dragged the couch out into the rain so that it was sopping wet, got warped and gave way. Ok, ok, ok, ok.  I am going into an alternate universe.

So, I continued the conversation, mostly intrigued about how far down the rabbit hole we would go.  I told him that I took down the outdoor umbrella so it wouldn’t do any damage in the strong winds.  I told that the umbrella was also bent a little.  Then HE got bent out of shape.  We started down the road of the sopping wet dog and I told him that we never opened the umbrella because the outdoor table was rusted over and we, as a rule, don’t eat on rusted surfaces, especially without a doctor present to administer tetanus shots.  He couldn’t imagine how this could happen.  I have no idea what others did in his house, but we were clean and careful and frankly out doing stuff all the time.  I had to climb out of the rabbit hole before I would do irreparable damage to my mental health. My partner listened to my side of the conversation and thought I was insane.  Then I told her the other side of the conversation.  She wondered if Verizon charges extras for receiving phone calls from Mars.

Throughout the conversation, I had this image of the CSI: Miami team determining who did what damage so the cost could be properly apportioned to the appropriate security deposits.  I don’t even like Horatio Caine on my TV set let alone in my head.  eeeeeewwwww.   

And, we were such considerate renters.  Really. Not only did my partner SCRUB the slightly gross kitchen, but we left soap, toilet paper and paper towels for the next renters (no such amenities were afforded us) and I called to ask what I should do to batten down the hatches because of the crazy weather from Tropical Storm Danny.  We wiped down the bathrooms, stripped the beds, etc., even though there is a cleaning service (well, um, precisely because we experienced the “quality” of the cleaning service).

It is good to be home with our stuff and our urban wildlife.

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It doesn’t get better than this

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My son is watching me blog as he lies in my arms after another excellent vacation day.  A little whining over eating dinner before his creamsicle dessert, but he is a great kid.  Every day, I love him more.  And I love that he still wants to cuddle.  I hope he will always find security in my arms, even when he is a grown-up.  He is the best thing that happened in my life (after meeting my partner, his other mom). 

I yell sometimes and I make him mind his manners and I am not always popular or on his top ten list of favorite people, but I act out of love.  Sometimes I am wrong, but my heart is in the right place.  I hope that he will think of that when he has kids of his own.  Teaching right from wrong, respect and manners are never easy.  But I do it because I love him more than he will ever know.

And with my son in my arms, we end another excellent day.

the end.

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Blogcation Day 6

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I surprised J and K by being awake at 9AM [my sloth is legendary notwithstanding having a 7 year-old alarm clock who loves to jump on me at all hours of the early morning and then my beloved gets up with him.  Do I have a charmed life or what?]

Unfortunately it is overcast, so at the crack of 10:10AM we all venture to the beach to beat the rain.  J and I start to run along the beach and she runs fast [remember she is 21 years YOUNGER than I] and I am keeping up.  [I am not letting a whippersnapper whipped me at running.]  I am stiff from exercising the last few days [but, of course, I don’t stretch because even though I have a body of a 45 year-old, I have the attitude of a 2 year-old].  At some point, K wanted to stop!! I wasn’t even gasping yet!! We walked and talked.  We ran back (sort of) and just in time, because it was starting to rain.  My partner and son had gotten in some time in the ocean.   AND I had kicked a 21 year-old’s butt in running.

A good morning notwithstanding the rain.

My sister emailed to make sure we weren’t in the ocean.  I didn’t want to tell her that I kept swimming out even though the life guards were calling everyone in, because I wanted to body surf the big waves.  The lifeguard had to save me.  Sister, if you are reading, you deserved to read this and have a moment of fear.  OF COURSE, we didn’t swim in rough water.

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Blogcation Day 5, part deux

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J and K came up to spend two days with us at the beach.  [J baby-sat for our son all through her college and post-college years.  She became family almost immediately (so let’s not discuss that she went to law school against my better advice) and K is her partner who is also family.]

They arrived after an epic 5 hour trip.  So we went immediately to the beach (we can walk through an established path along a coastal reserve), then my partner and I hopped over to the IGA [which was rehabilitated from the UGH, see prior blog entry] to buy provisions.

We got back asap and I began preparing the grill.  [Ok, let’s have a moment about this:  I am a city girl through and through.  I know nothing about barbeque’ing.  I am now grilling for a suburban girl and a country girl.  I am a little scared.  They like their steaks well done.  I only know two settings — medium rare and burnt like shoe leather.] 

The steaks turned out to everyone’s liking (or so they said) and the table was full of food and family.  K and I decided to go for a run at the crack of 10AM. [I sounded brave and sure, but she IS 21 years younger than I.]   Our son was so well-mannered that he offered to share his stash of creamsicles with J and K.  We were proud.  There were other kinds of ice cream [we ARE on vacation, after all] so we all had our full. 

and life was good.

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Blogcation Day 4

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Today was a great day. 

Mickey’s Cartage Company picked up the gross garbage from the prior renters and added a second dumpster.  Throughout our travels today, we kept seeing a Mickey’s Cartage Company truck on the road.  We wondered whether someone was just driving our garbage around because there was no room left at the landfill. 

We had a lazy morning.  My partner read on the porch and our son played games, read and watched a little TV. I zoned out.  Then we set out for my partner’s dad’s beach house in East Hampton where her sister and nephew live for now.  I snuck out to go to the gym and work on the sagging around my long-ago arm muscles. Here’s the fab thing about the Hamptons: the prices are unconscionable regardless of the quality of the services.  $30 for an underground gym with old equipment and no amenities.  You just have to pretend it is in pesos and pretend it is a good deal.

Ok so far.

Feeling guilty for leaving my partner and sister-in-law to contend with two 7 year-olds who, when together, feel like ten deranged alien beings, I drove back to the house.  The noise level was deafening.  The two moms were beleaguered and trying to create order around the pool.  I jumped into service (literally) by jumping into the pool, which is freezing cold because it never occurred to my father-in-law to get a heating device.  It is refreshing only in August when you are in the sun; otherwise, it is a little like falling into an ice-fishing hole. 

The great day is being downgraded to a hurricane.

Having kids around a pool is one of the most nerve-wracking experiences I can imagine.  Danger to life, limb and brain development is everywhere.  Might as well toss a 7 year-old the keys to the car. 

The boys were intent on having a sleepover, even though this was an afternoon playdate.  The last sleepover was a misnomer.  It was a shriek-a-thon and finally ended when my son came into the livingroom and asked to sleep with us because he was really tired.  Of course, he doesn’t remember that insanity.

Hurricane now downgraded to a tropical depression. 

My son needed to sulk over dashed hopes of a sleepover tonight.  Then, he wanted to go back to the City.  No more vacation.  He NEVER gets to do anything HE wants (dude, we’ve had 3 hair-raising playdates with your cousin within 4 days).

How do all kids know how to sulk this way?  It is part of the human genome in which I have the most interest.  I don’t care what makes his eyes blue or gives him a slightly weird looking big toenail.  I want to know why all kids whine exactly the same way and say the exact same things when they don’t get what they want.  Then we could replace those chemicals in the genome with Stepford Wives-like chemicals (a boon to the pharma companies) and, presto-magico, we would never have to fantasize about separate vacations from our children.

Schlepping from Montauk to East Hampton and back again, with all of that traffic and all those lunatic drivers in their fast cars is exhausting.  So, my understanding partner told me to take a nap (it was either sleep in bed or lie on the floor moaning, “woe is I”), so really I didn’t give her a choice. 

We grilled, we ate, I am blogging.  My beloved, our terrific son (even with the whining) and I are together, chilling out listening to Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.

Tropical depression upgraded to a great day on the road to Utopia. 

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Blogcation Day 3

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Really wonderful sleep in a room cooled by ocean breezes. Still in pajamas at 9am on a Tuesday.  It is a beautiful day.  Down the path is a gorgeous “surfer beach”.  Last night we walked along the water and it was that beautiful, relaxing scene you think you’ll only see in the movies.  The erosion of the beach makes getting onto the beach tricky.

Today I have to work, but that is ok.  I feel the cynicism and snarkiness drifting away . . . . but wait I got an ALL CAPS email from a work colleague.  Ok, the cynicism is creeping back in . . . .

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Blogcation Day 2, part 2

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It is a very tricky business living in someone else’s house for a week.  The kitchen is never clean enough.  The outdoor furniture is rusty.  The grill needs to be heaved for a new one, with the implied promise of regular cleaning.  This house is not equipped with detergents and other cleaners one might find in a “good home”. 

The attached picture is the amount of garbage that greeted us, courtesy of the prior renters.

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We cleaned as best we could and bought extra detergent and cleaning supplies, toilet paper and paper towels. 

The scene is stunning however.  Steps away from the ocean.  The smell of the ocean.  The cool ocean breeze.  Beautiful view of the sky at dusk.  Really picturesque. 

The house itself is designed to maximize one’s enjoyment of the ocean, the breeze and the vista.  So, it is really wonderful, all in all (especially after we cleaned).

So my bottom line is:  Until we can afford to buy a beach house (and are willing to commit to going to it on the weekends), I am just going to take off my glasses and not look too closely.

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