Turdy-Poor

I know, I KNOW, already. What? We just teleported from St. John, New Brunswick back to Barryville a fuckin' week ago and I had nothing to say about it? Welcome to my world...I'm all about the fun, fun, fun of the first few days and wanting to share the load and then, somehow, logging on at .75 cents a minute from the ship to explain how we ate lobster rolls in Halifax seemed somehow...less, if you know what I mean. The vacation actually ended up amazing at the little town of Bar Harbor, Maine and a quick trip up through Acadia National Park to the peak of Mount Cadillac, though. If you can go, GO. Jeff and I are definitely going back to snark around. It was pure New England in the very best sense of the word.

Then we got back and had another week off work. Two week vacations are now going to be mandatory in my life. While we were inside sewing pillows and having hot sex all over our new carpet (as IF, Mary. You have to know that if Jeff's not letting me eat cookies on the new carpet then I'm damn well not hanging out the vacancy sign on my ass), the workers were tearing out part of our wrap-around porch to frame and screen it in. The whole of it should be done sometime next week and then we can enjoy long, late evenings out on the porch without bugs and all those other pesky rural country thingies that make being outside in the fresh air and woods so annoying.

Sunday I had the pleasure of bolting down to Philly for a work conference. Strangely, I absolutely fell in love with the area I was staying in, somewhere called the Old City and just around the corner from the Liberty Bell. You could wander the streets and find amazing old, brick townhouses and churches with ancient cemeteries stuffed in the strangest, most out of the way corners. Beyond that, I happened on a corner restaurant/bar that seemed to be the hippest martini bar in Philly and I'm NEVER at the center of any hip Universe but there I was last night. I honestly have to say it was the first time I missed living in the city, but not New York City since I was never within four blocks of anything even remotely hip or happening there. So maybe my aversion isn't to cities as a whole, but just to NYC. Maybe there is city life left in my yet.

In all the getting-fat of the last two weeks, my vacation is ending today as I just happen to be turning 34. I woke up with this humongous zit this morning which I'm hoping is good luck in some other culture because it just made me feel that much more self-conscious today. I do have to say I don't have crow's feet and other than a few anxiety furrows on my forehead that are badges of some real, gut-wrenching worry-warting, I seem to be holding up fine. I know I've had older friends in the past who were on steady courses of Botox and chemical peels at this stage of the game so something must be working right. Regardless, the other day after Jeff and I picked out the silliest, gushiest b-d card for me, he let me know that for my birthday, he was going to let me toss his salad. That being said, I want to toss his salad like I want to lick a bowl of anthrax so I politely declined and opted for more...me-focused monkey love, which I collected on after getting home from Philly...all over the new carpet. It's my birthday and my will must be submitted to.

That's the story and I'm sticking with it.