Due to the overwhelming (a possible overstatement) reaction to my internet sabbatical I feel I owe all 17 of my faithful readers an explanation.
First – I got tired of the internet.
Just like most of us look at the menu of 864 channels on TV and say “There’s nothing to watch”, I found myself bouncing back and forth between MSN, Yahoo, ebay, and email. over and over and over. I was following threads about the dangers of eating blowfish and how it was affecting celebrity cellulite as well as the possibility that Global Warming may be caused by the factory in China making all the supplements Dr. Oz is promoting.
Finally I said to hell with it and shut down.
Staring out of the basement (or 3rd level) windows, across the burgeoning poison ivy patch to the tranquil North River I decided to write the Great American Novel.
Set in a small town (of course) narrated by a child (to give a different perspective) about a summer full of adventure and peril. Each home on the shady street had a different story and a different cast to explore.
The father, a widower, was considered the most upstanding man in the little town…
It was about then I realized I was writing To Kill a Mockingbird.
So welcome back to the mundane musings of your New England mis-plant.
The weather today is hot. The New England summer engulfs you like a big hug…a big, warm, wet hug. Like the hug you got as a kid from a plump aunt where you disappeared into her ample cleavage. New England weather is like the wet wool blanket of hugs. I’m staying inside today.
Since my last real reporting (after the Sochilist Olympics) I have kept myself busy. It was Spring in New England – when the gas bill spikes and the toilets freeze. This was not a pleasant season – sorta like second string winter. Even the stout and hearty natives were whining like Kim Kardashian at a Celebrity Bake Sale “How much longer is this going to laaaast???”
Evidently the weather gods took pity and sent a big heaping helping of heat and humidity…and so here we are today. We passed our first anniversary of living here (May 30 – and I didn’t get a single card!). The trips for Grandkids birthdays have helped me survive.
If you’ve got a minute – here’s what happened…