Praties

Today was a wholy marvelous day.

I had a relaxing evening last night because my parents'n'bro are up camping on key penninsula. This morning I met MLE for breakfast at the farmer's market, and we emony42 and her friend, also a Lyndsey, joined us. Then I drove up to Key penninsula to visit the campers.

I gave both parentals a talking to about how unpleasant it is to come home from a long day of work while they're out vacationing and discover that they packed every editable veggie or fruit for their camping trip, and left a very deceptive hersheys wrapper on the counter. All they left me (besides a freezer full of nice meat and three frozen pounds of butter), was one slightly rotted potato, only an inch and a half long.

Dad had brought the boat up, so four of us (the Zilks were camping too) went for a ride. I got to steer, and learned valuable boating advice from my father, as follows:

"The most critical thing to know when steering a boat is, avoid the green and brown lumpy bits."

After Dad imparted this sagacity I scrambled up over the wind-screen so I could be a boat-babe. More specifically, a bow-babe. This is not a position nature has qualified me for. I lack size D breasts, long tan legs, and willingness to bleach my hair while broiling my skin. On the other hand, I really like hanging out over the bow of a boat and getting the whole view in panorama, without windscreen, driver, and bow in the way.

I sat down in a very stable position, but mom said I looked like a frog. "Oui? Tu m'appele?" responded I. I scooted around to a more suitable lounge.

Now, to make sure you have the right mental picture - Our boat is affectioanatley named Pea-Green, after its color. Dad bought it from Grandad (that'd be the late GREAT Grandad), when he couldn't really use it anymore. In short, all 14 feet of it are well used and well loved. To top it off as bow-babe I had my normal black, a sweater around my waist, and a lifejacket...hey, I swear, that's just like one step below a bikini!

Back at camp I made sure the Zilks new about the home-food situation, especially in the potato department. A little guilt never hurts. I also made up for all the unpopularity of being a nerd in elementary school, finally having that special mark of inclusion. No, I wasn't picked first for sports.

"Dave, wait! Guy's can walk alone, but girls go to the bathroom in CONVOYS."
Dave (incredibly high and perky) "Ooh, shall we go then?"

Arms were linked and off we skipped.

I always had to go alone in elementary school.

Laters all sang and made melodic and occasionally lewd asses of ourselves around a camp fire. Doozer, for reasons unknown, regaled us with the tale of the day his biology teacher permanently embarassed all the male fifteen year olds by using a healthy and a rotten potato to *repeatedly* explain the definition of the words 'turgid' and 'flacid.'

I pointed out that the sole, inch'n'3'quarters potato left to me by my parents had been, without doubt, a flacid potato.

Dad (quietly): Did you stroke it?
Me: As my father, you should be happy I didn't /eat/ it.

We, er, declined to explain that one to the teenage boys who hadn't quite heard. I'm fairly confident, however, that Amy Zilk snorted some of her taco.

Long'n'short, it was a great day, which proves that no matter how my family drives me up the wall, they're great fun to be around, and we have a great group of friends...now if only I had my own place, the balance of happy-vacationing times to bitchy-day-to-day times would even out a bit...

Lukey's boat is painted green
(Hi, me boys)
Lukey's boat is painted green
she's the prettiest boat that you ever seen!
A-ha, me boys a diddley-i-day.

Turn about is fair play

Today was not a wholly marvelous day. Win some, loose some.

I took my blue mood down to the waterfront around 7:00 and walked down the boardwalk to a cover band playing sad sixties love songs. Soundtrack of my evening.

I was down there to help June & Fred of Moonlighting import clothing take down their booth, a little side job I've been doing every labor day weekend for the last three years. I'm glad I went. When I'm despondent I'm more balanced if I go Out Among My People.

I know, it's weird.

I collect people.

That's not strange for good friends, but I take it to an extreme by collecting good aquaintances. Besides, My People have mutual ties...I help them when they ask. If I didn't they wouldn't be My People. Of course, that's the reason I'm MCing for a festival in booming tumwater despite having no vocal stage presence (or presence of mind on stage unless I'm behind a violin). When one's musician friend asks of one, one does, right? It's part and parcel of my territorial, proprietary aproach to cities. Those words are misleading, though - it's not that I'm interested in keeping others out, but that I work my way in. Where I live is a part of me, and visa versa.

That is a digression to distract from the uncomfortable slow burn of melancholy, expected eventually but still unpleasant. Y'know, if silly, illogical emotion didn't get involved in our human relationships, they'd be so much simpler.

...If your heart breaks, don't wait, turn me away
...
I've been away now, oh how I've been alone...