Sunday, September 23, 2007

Melancholy and the infinite longing for summer

So this was the last week of summer. I don’t really know what happened to summer – went by so incredibly fast. I managed to get my white ass to the beach a whopping one time. Who needs a new bathing suit for that? I certainly didn’t – which is why I wore the old one, crunchy elastic and all. You know, just hoping for the best but bracing for the worst, should gravity take over. Luckily, I made it through one more summer without having to go through the über-humiliating experience of buying swimwear, and than being further humiliated by having to wear it in public. And yet, summer is still my favorite season of the year. I suppose I’m a glutton for punishment.

To celebrate the passing of the season, I was the lucky recipient of a nasty cold. Sore throat, coughing and green snot! As I sit here sucking on a cough drop I can’t taste, I wonder why is it that summer used to seem so long when you were a kid?

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Monday, September 17, 2007

Pickles and Wieners

I’ve noticed something as of late – weekends seem to be ever shrinking (in duration, that is). There is never enough time, and this weekend was no different. I’m told this happens when one gets older: time goes by faster (our asses get wider, too. Coincidence? I think not).

Our friends Kevin and Lauren were in town because Lauren was competing in a girls-only triathlon. I didn’t know this before, but a triathlon involves running, swimming and biking – all in the same day, all back to back. No ice cream break, no napping under a tree, no kick-off brunch with a few mimosas. No, none of that. Just a giant burst of physical activity bright and early in the morning. I get the distinctive impression that some people actually enjoy it, but even thinking about it brings on that shooting pain under my ribs that makes it hard to breathe. But Lauren is super fit and looks like she belongs among the athletic crowd. The likes of me should stick to being a spectator, which is where I belong (even more so if there are snacks).

The event was taking place at Sandy Hook, a skinny protrusion of land off the Jersey Shore, the site of a coast guard outpost and home to some wacky WWI and cold war relics like old cannons and really big machine-gun-thingies. Since none of us had much of a clue as to where this place was, or what was there, we went to check out the lay of the land the day before the competition, so that Lauren could get oriented….. and that is how we accidentally stumbled upon the Clothing Optional beach. There were actual naked dudes there, in 60-degree weather, strutting their stuff. There were not many women, perhaps because women don’t long to go naked when it’s cold and cloudy, or perhaps because that area was more of a guy locale. Don’t really know, but regardless, it was fascinating because it was also, uh, odd – who knew….

Sunday, the day of the triathlon, we stayed at home. The event started at 7 am, which meant getting up at like 4 am to be there in time. So, in honor of all the women exerting themselves, we conserved energy by sleeping late, something I hadn’t done in months. We spent the day in such a lazy fashion we missed the Pickle Festival at the Lower East Side. Lauren did well in the triathlon, finishing among the top of her group – which is way cool.

So it is now Monday. Weekend is over. Back to work. Didn’t get to do everything we wanted to do. There were drinks to be head, friends to laugh with, and triathlons to be competed in, but somehow, the time never seems enough, because we constantly think of what we could do, or wanted to do, or should do. And of course, the pile of laundry continues to grow, and the oil in the car still awaits a change. But really, is that what weekends are for?

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Monday, September 10, 2007

Who does such a thing?

In a new section to be named "HEY, PUT THAT DOWN....."

As I walked to my car this morning, I noticed something was weird. After staring for a few moments, I noticed that the antenna was missing. I tried to remember whether my antenna was one of those that retracted when the radio was off, but to the best of my recollection, it wasn't. The first logical conclusion would be that that it was a victim of gravity, but closer inspection revealed that it was actually lost to theft. Yes. Someone stole my car antenna. They didn't break it off. No. They carefully screwed it off. There is an inch long threaded piece of metal - which used to hold the antenna in place - that now protrudes from my car. Someone worked hard at getting the thing off it's perch. My car is pretty old, and rust should have been a deterrent. But besides that, why? What exactly can you do with a detached car antenna? Is it some sort of sick game of tag, where someone steals yours and you steal someone else’s? I can't imagine any other use for a used car antenna that was recently liberated from its owner. Unfortunately, I can't tell my antenna apart from any other - but from now on, I'll be on the lookout for everyone sporting a coat hanger wrapped around the little stump on the hood of their car. Potential thief, or another victim?

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