Stay of Execution

Wish You Were Here

We threw a party last night.  For years I did a summer party and a winter party.  Lately I haven't done the summer party, so it was fun to do it again.  I picked a tough weekend, the only one that worked for my housemate and I both.  Many friends were away, sailing or at weddings or at a conference.  So I was afraid it would be a dud.  But we ended up getting more than 40 people, who were enthusiastic and friendly, from Vermont and Afghanistan and across the street.  Everyone liked the fake tattoos, and I took it on myself to do a bit of a photo essay documenting the various temporary tattoos.  (You'll notice from the photos that the label maker came out, later in the evening, as did the feather boas.)  Unfortunately the bravest guest, a retired English professor who is over 70 years old, in my book group, and a bit of a shy woman, left before I could take a picture of her henna anklet.  It was pretty cool to see the mixing and mingling. 

I can't decide if it is a good or a bad mark of my hostessing, that the party only ended when I asked the group of six or seven people playing guitars and singing out in the yard to pack it in.  I was beat and wanted to go to bed, and I was afraid my neighbors would be mad at me for having a rousing sing-along after one AM.   So I shut down my own party.  I think that's okay, sometimes.   

Girls' Night Out

On Monday we celebrated the visit of dear T, who has moved away to the south.  I like to believe it's only a temporary move, and that she'll be back.  Here's a picture of me with my fellow sailing galpals Cinderella, Boogie, and Ruby. 

More pictures of the girls are here.  As an extra bonus, there's a picture of the watermelon we placed on a navigational buoy on July 4th, as part of the scavenger hunt I organized. 

Back On The Coast

I could never leave the ocean, but if I could I might be very tempted to live in The Kingdom.  My country cousins grew up there, on a dairy farm.  I visited only a few times in my childhood but they are imprinted in my head with the smell of hay and manure, the sticky sweet hot air of a maple sugar shack, the big oaks and the blue silhouettes of hills across the valley, the unwelcome tingle of an electric fence, the furry feel of a horse eating a carrot from my hand, the wet sandpaper of a calf's tongue, the creamy taste of fresh milk, the ferny shade of the woods, the trickle of a stream, the surprise of a toad jumping on the path in front of my feet. 

At the wedding I roamed up into the milking barns, now empty since Jeff died of cancer.  They still smelled the same.  My country cousins, big hearty boys, two identical twins and one practically identical, a couple of years older, have their own kids now.  I watched the cousins racing around in the fields and the farmhouse.  Several of them caught a toad in a coffee can, and their heads bowed down together, studying it. 

Some pictures from the wedding are here.  I'm no photographer, as you can tell.  My dad, I hope, took some good ones of the bride and groom, the family, the place.  I was transfixed by spots I remembered from my childhood, and by the children themselves. 

This Is What My Kitchen Smells Like

You can only imagine what the yard is like, with the grass, the salt sea air, roses, honeysuckle, peonies, and sunshine. 

All Requests: My Favorite Things

I forgot to mention that one of my favorite things is my small cast iron pan, that's just perfect for cooking one over-easy egg at a time.  (A breakfast including eggs over easy is another one of my favorite things.)

And here's a picture of the painting I bought a couple of years ago from a local artist and baker, Stephen Lanzalotta.  That's one of my favorite things.

Baby Blogging

Here's a picture of the delightful Baby Lucy, who I visited in Montana a couple of weeks ago.  This picture is pretty typical.  Yes, she cried now and then.  But mostly she was smiley and delighted, making you feel like you were sharing a delicious secret. 

Books Worth Keeping

Here's a picture of my bookshelf worth of journals.  I've kept journals since 1985 or so.  I decided to take pictures of some of them, and share them with you in this photo album.  No, silly, you're not supposed to try to read them, just to see what they look like.  Some are scrawled and messy.  Some are dense and tidy.  Some are mostly pictures I drew and bits of paper clipped in.  Some are spare and desperate.  Some are embellished and controlled.  They vary in their subject matter, too, although sailing, friends, what's stressing me out, and the opposite sex are frequently mentioned. 

All Request: How's the Dog, and More Pictures, please

The yellow dog is Haole (pronounced "Howl-ee").  He belongs to Housemate's Boyfriend, who lives here now as a full fledged housemate himself.   As you may recall, he is not allowed to lie on the sofa, but is allowed to crouch/sit on the sofa because it is so comical. 

The black dog is Belle, the one-eyed, three-legged wonder.  She is allowed to lie on the sofa, which privilege she is taking advantage of right now and which must feel extra good because a square of sunlight is falling right where she lies. Her back is all warm and when I touch it I can feel how she's soaking up the sunlight.  My touch wakes her up and she gives me a look of gentle irritation -- do you have a good reason for making me lift my head, or is this an interruption I can ignore.  A moment later she's back to sleep. 

And here is a picture of our Christmas tree.  If you look closely, you can see my favorite ornament, which is the exoskeleton of a puffer fish, painted bright red, with rhinestone eyes.  My second favorite ornament is the Miller Lite can, artfully hanging near the top of the tree. 

I Hope YOU Have Not Forgotten

We've got a virtual birthday party going on, over here, where blog readers can mix and mingle with one another to help me celebrate my 33rd birthday.  There are more than 50 pictures up.  I'll keep taking pictures through Wednesday, December 21, so if you haven't sent yours in yet, I hope you'll consider it. 

I cannot overstate how much I'm enjoying these pictures.  I keep making Housemate look at the photo album, and I point out different pictures and tell what I know about you and grin.  Somehow it's really wonderful to get a glimpse of you, who have been invisible to me all this time.  I know if this were a flesh-and-blood party we would enjoy one another. 

You guys are good looking and outdoorsy and a great mix of ages and geographies.  I'm pleased, but not surprised, to see so many dogs at the party. 

I've been thinking about whether there's an easy way for us to actually mingle.  We could do a web-based chat at an appointed time, and people could sign on with usernames that matched their picture, so the mountaineers could talk to one another or the chipmunk could ask the girl in the red t-shirt a question.  As your hostess I've brought you together but I've not yet done a good job connecting you.  If you have ideas, let me know.  Or just talk to one another in the comments here, if you want to leave a message for someone whose picture you like.... 

Get This Party Started!

Cool.  You guys are an especially good looking bunch, aren't you?  Even you bashful types. 

Won't you join us?  Please come to the birthday party.  You can show up any time until the big day, December 21.

UPDATE: Links fixed.  Those stinkers at Typepad can't keep us from frolicking.  I think I have all the pictures back -- but if you used to be here and you are now missing, please let me know.