Last weekend I went food shopping at the shore. I live across the street from a high end supermarket but can't justify the prices there for a real big food shopping. I drove over to the next little town off shore and went to the regular ShopRite. I like to take the back roads and sing as I drive thru the lush green streets. To me, this feels somewhat like the country. Tractors are used as yard art, gardens are colorful and full, there are even men in overalls. The people all look generic white. Signs say: Vine ripened Peaches, Fresh Herbs, Geraniums 3 for $10.00, free firewood (in the city, nothing is free). I am thrilled as I drive and look. I do not practice nursing here or sell real estate so I can't really get INside these homes but I could imagine what they look like inside. ...country curtains, hardwood floors, rocking chairs and pies in the kitchen. Bathrooms are probably plain but cute with homemade soaps. A good long hot soaking bath is how they remove their grime here, I'm sure. Many yards have self built fences, some very fine, and above the ground pools with tree swings. I even saw a tree house that I had to get out and take a closer look! I think to myself that I have to start working on my husband to figure a way to make a tree house or hut or hide out shed for our grandchildren. By the time he is 65, I'll have him whittling wood.

I feel like setting my hair in pin curls!

After shopping, I took another road back...of course I went way out of my way and wouldn't have minded but the groceries were starting to melt all over my car. ..."you can take the girl out of the city but you can't take the city out of the girl"...as I speeded up, I saw a large sign that said "rabbits for sale". I thought of all the Italians I know that love roasted rabbit with fennel. I thought of the person who raises rabbits in a surburan setting to sell and profit. I thought this all very interesting and wished I wanted a rabbit for dinner or for a pet, but, I didn't and couldn't convince myself as such. And besides, what would Olive think?

In the city, we have to swerve sometimes when we drive to avoid hitting a disgusting wobelling pigeon or a running squirrel. As I climbed over the little bridge that takes me back to the island, I noticed how some of the cars were swerving ahead of me. There, crossing the street, was a turtle, moving like an old man with a cane. It seems as if all the cars avoided him and I was glad and wondered if he was looking for his rabbit friends.

What is up with bathing suit shopping and why can't I just learn to stop buying them?

I cannot even enter the dressing rooms in the stores. If I would, maybe I would buy less. Never shop on an empty stomach...that is when you think you are skinny but really you are just yourself. omg!
Yes, I went out to return something for my son, with just a little breakfast in my belly and felt "on the small side" and most of the other shoppers were way bigger than me so it just confirmed my grazing the bikini rack. Knowing those monster mirrors were lerking somewhere in the back of the store with too small curtains, the brightest lights that were made for the up-all-night-to-study college students and ladies with big sticks and large numbered discs, I ran right to the check out counter. The 300 lb. check out lady smiled and I rationalized how, at 45 years old, I should wear a bikini.

Then, I got it home...now starving for lunch, I changed and thought I looked half good. My house was breezy and calm and shaded. I worked on getting the computer up and running while I made nerve grating phone calls to the cable company. The stress triggered an unconsciously eaten lunch and a snack and plenty of iced tea. I started to work and after my carpel tunnel diseased wrists could take no more I took another snack break. I took a walk to check on the kids and then came home, cooked and ate dinner with wine and a happy chat with my mom and kids and a shore friend.

Back to work...another needed break..I decided to get out of the bathing suit and cover up I never really made use of today and take a hot shower. Now, my house lights were all on and I was stuffed. A quick look in the mirror turned me right in. Guilty. Who was that tired looking lady trying to look like a teenager? I was shocked to see myself. Why would I buy such a small suit? I thought of all the skinny teenagers on the beach.

I decided Lights are the real problem.

I remember once complaining about the dust in my house to my friend Lisa (who is one of the smartest friend's I have), she said, just dim the lights and everything will be fine..You know what..she was right! Everything goes away in the shade...fat, wrinkles, dust.

The solution is to visit the beach after 8 pm...or stop wearing bikini's. I am sure I will not take my own advice. I am sure I'll go through this torture many more times before I learn my lesson.... for now....I'm Dimming the lights.

It has been three long days trying to get my comcast modem to work. I am behind in all of my computer work and my blogging and have not received any email messages since Friday. I am in such a tizzy I feel as if my right arm was cut off.

Now, with the help of the only person at comcast that knows more about computers than I do (and that ain't much), I am on line. What a relief. Now, life can begin again. I am truly exhausted.

I have transplanted my family to the shore for the summer. I will go back and forth to see my patients and work and then do computer work at the house. School is out and kids are scattered like petals fallen from a flower in a summer's breeze. I am trying to let my kids have care free summer days like I did when I was a kid. Sleep, eat and then do what they want to do...beach, fishing, miniature golf, friends, boogie boards and surfing, shell collecting and some crafting with the little ones. Maybe I'll even get them to read a few books. My mom and dad and sister and husband will help turn that revolving door so that there is always someone here with the kids. I cannot think about schedules more than a few days at a time.

My dog is languishly flopped over the side of the setee in the sunroom. She watches as I plant my geraniums and basil. I think CALM as I watch her..Glad to see she is enjoying the start of her summer!

I am so deeply content that my brother's friend who visited on sunday said my house was so charming. I felt we were cozy and grounded. Father's Day dinner turned out well. We all ate too much and I think my Father and Husband really enjoyed my grandmother's homemade ravioli recipe made with sage sausage, ricotta, and spinach. The kids ate bowls full. My father's three kids were here with all the grandkids. That is getting harder to do.

I think I'll have a beer and a nap to toast the start of the summer...as soon as I get my work done!

My dad was not the type to shower his little girls with unlimited gifts and prizes that some dad's bring home after being away, yet again. My dad's prize to us was, and is, him. He was home whenever he wasn't working or playing cards (his hobby). We were his life. The harshest thing we ever had to endure was an hour of nature shows that I have grown to love as an adult. We would moan. Also, his "rides" in the car that I previously wrote about were sometimes met with resistance. Sundays was for football watching and that was that..I never learned to like football not even as my kids played and husband coached throughout the years. My dad would stand in front of the TV and scream at the images. The score would determine his mood for the day.

My father is the most affectionate person I know, kissing us until we scream for mercy. He'd tuck us in on the sofa or our beds. He went searching for the best pillow or blanket. He'd even make and serve us tea radiating as we were all "stuck" in the house during the very cold, snowy days. If you even mention you need something, anything, he is at your door in a flash: providing endless rides to work, running errands, getting something from some far away place that you really need at that moment. He is a dependable dad. He never drank or spent away our food or bill money. He never had "other women"..the thought of that is actually so funny. Our house was run by two parents that cared more about us than anyone would again. My dad readily let my mom run the whole show: she was like dinner, he was the hor d'ourves and drinks and dessert. My father's love for us sometimes looks like pain on his face. I inherited that from him. I can't think too much about my love for my kids or I too get organically anxious and mentally stretched. I've inherited my father's boundless energy that deflates in an instant and needs short convalescing to revitalize itself. His love for music has affected my whole life and words and books and religion are deeply felt and contemplated. I never appreciated my father's intelligence and worldly knowledge until I was an adult.
I admire his political stance and general understanding of people, cultures and this city where we grew up.

My dad is a neighborhood guy. He moved to the next state over because my mom made him. lol. He drives back and forth whenever he feels like it and makes it all work in the end. He'll ride a bike, wear thrift store shoes and wolf down his eggs and toast like there is no tomorrow. He is not pretentious or boastful. He wears his heart and feelings on his sleeve, therefore, he is no phony. He is sensitive and worries about everything. He likes to be home and as much as he likes to go out and does, it exhausts him as it does me.

I married someone that is a lot like my dad.

How can a little girl ask for much more?

Money has never yet made anyone rich.