Do you know how hard it is to get [free] internet in far-flung places like the upper Cape? Well, I’m currently pirating a signal from the next door neighbor’s cottage, sitting in the back of my Dad’s borrowed Yukon in the torrential rain. It’s like a little office in here. Ooh, that was thunder. Thankfully I’m in a trunk!
Okay, my Dad just came out and bodily moved me back into the cottage, saying something about “the news” and “quick strikes.” Sure, Dad. Fiiine. (I’ll just post this later.)
So. Since getting here (aside from having to jet to the airport at 5:45am and waking UP at 5:50am- we did the Home Alone dash) it’s been pretty uneventful and terrific. I’ve consumed more shellfish than is probably wise (at the Lobster Pot, no less, quite possibly the greatest restaurant ever), built the most structurally sound moat in the Harbor (sure, my two-year old nephew helped, but it was mainly my construction site), and came down with a bizarre and inexplicable full-body rash. Kate thinks it’s an allergy to shellfish HA HAH. (Like that would even slow me down.) Give up now, ocean life! I’ll pretend it’s like that episode of Sesame Street where Bert and Ernie are fishing on a boat and Ernie gets all the fish by yelling “Here, fishie FISHIE FISHIE!” And the fish jump in the boat. And, presumably, he eats them for dinner.
Not to say that it’s been totally idyllic and completely without conflict here. Why, just the other day a pile of dog poo was spotted on the lane to the beach with a sign posted beside it, asking “Did you forget something?” Ouch. And the signal we’ve all been pirating from is called “Lazy Summer Home.” Quite the misnomer, when you consider that seven laptop-laden adults are running around the backyard like crazy people, yelling “I’ve got four bars!” and “Dammit, my signal dropped!” Do you think they’re on to us? Discuss.
Most of the people in this house are the self-same folks that I play Scramble with on Facebook. We’ve adjusted, though, with a game that I like to call “Boggle.” And has anyone else ever heard of “Tripoli?” It’s a fantastic game that includes poker, a variation of Hearts, and Michigan rummy. A veritable trio (get it?) of games designed to pit my family against one another and guaranteed to make at least one person go to bed cross. We tried using vanilla cookies as poker chips but I kept eating them.
Speaking of overeating; I have been. However! I’ve found the answer to my dietary prayers in the form of an exercise system called “Core Rhythms.” (I love infomercials.) We were TRANSFIXED by these dvds and watched the ‘mercial for a good half an hour. Each five minute segment gave you the option to purchase the set FOR EVEN CHEAPER than before. With extra dvds thrown in! (Leaving the question unanswered- if I had purchased them when the informercial started, would I be paying full price for only five dvds as compared to half price for all eight? I worry about this stuff.) So, I did what any sane person would do; hopped on the back of the Yukon and downloaded the series on LimeWire. (Do you think the Feds read my blog?) I did the “quick” twenty minute one and enjoyed learning “hot latin moves” like the Running Man. (My favorite part of the testimonials was when a hefty gal swayed awkwardly from side to side with her hands in the air saying “I love all these great club moves!”)
That said, when I was done I was covered in sweat and couldn’t feel my midsection. Hear that? Sounds like fat-burnin’. Also, I had bumped my heel something fierce so that was burnin’ too. Plus, this rash really is showing no signs of slowing down.
And this is me in peak health, folks. It’s a good thing I’m at the seaside…all I need now is a plaid blanket and for my wicker wheelchair to be rolled down to the water’s edge. It’s good for one’s constitution. And while we’re down there, can someone lend me a couple bucks? I totally missed the ice cream man over at the public beach the other day and my innards are screaming for a nutty royale cone.
But I’m getting work done. For real.
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