It seems as if I’ve spent the last few days waiting for giant storms to move in and consume us.
Sometimes they come and other times they just disappear, diminished by unknown, at least to me, meteorological forces of the nearby Long Island Sound and something called the Atlantic Ocean, across the way.
It’s kind of a drag because, right now, for the most part the skies are clear and blue, even though the radar shows an approaching hoard of green, yellow and orange blobs.
It was kind of this way yesterday, too, until the blobs did eventually deliver their promise of deluging rain.
Last week it was hail.
So I forgo the tranquility of the shore today and sit instead in the serenity of our little garden out back. I figure I’ll just sit and write and see what nonsense transpires from this once again tired brain of mine.
Part of it is that we’re in the dog days of August, which is a thrill for the dogs, but not so much people. Not that I’m in any rush for the summer to end, but the constant heat and humidity of the northeast does have a draining effect by this time of year.
But summer’s not done yet; not by a long shot. No more than winter is done in the second week of February.
Anyway, we went to a family wedding on Saturday and lo and behold…I had a good time, which kind of surprised me.Z's niece Kate married her boyfriend Michael, which I thought odd since I couldn't quite figure out why Kate would want to marry Z's boyfriend and not her own.
But Z seems okay with it; it's all good.
So it wasn't that I didn’t like the folks getting married—I do, very much—or the invitees, which I also do, except for the ones who were double dipping the shrimp.
You know who you are....
You know who you are....
Due in part to my delicate freelance sensibilities, and my general disregard for conformity, of any sort, I just don’t like the idea of putting on a jacket and tie, not to mention, long sleeve shirt, buttoned tight around my bulging neck, and sitting out in the 85 degree heat of an August sun.
Or…putting on a jacket and tie, not to mention long sleeve shirt, buttoned tight around my bulging neck, and sitting in the air conditioned comfort of the reception hall.
And did I mention the dancing?
But that I did, and since it seemed like the sport of the day was to see who could drag me out on to the dance floor and embarrass me into dancing the most, I suddenly found myself having a good time. Not as good as some others who had fueled their fun, more so than I—way more so than I—with a variety of specially concocted potions.
But I guess that’s what you do at weddings.
Do you remember Ronald Reagan? I mean the actor, not the President….
This was my first "second generation" wedding, where I was actually one of the “old” people who had once upon a time inhabited all of the previous weddings I had attended in my misspent youth.
They usually sat at that odd table in the corner, not far from the parents, not ancient, but certainly not young. They were the ones making lots of weird noises and clinking those obnoxious glasses.
They also liked to mix in with the young folks on the dance floor and show that they still have moves. The frug, the monkey, and did I mention the bugalloo?
I have to say my moves really haven’t changed a lot from my past moves; basically because my past moves pretty much sucked in the first place.
Hey, getting your arms and legs to move in some sort of rhythm is actually harder than coming up with a good idea for a blog post; so, based on this, you can imagine how that went for me.
Actually my best move is to allow whoever is dragging me around the dance floor, to mix in with the rest of the crowd and then I stealthily back away and hide under the table.
And oddly enough, no one usually comes looking for me.
So, as I said, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself honestly enjoying myself. Good people, music, food and booze and booze and booze seems to be the formula for success in that regard.
And after the wedding, the party moved to a suite at a local hotel, where security guards were posted at the door, but not to keep people from getting in, but to keep the partiers from getting out.
At least that’s what the 19 year old with the pint of beer in her hand was telling me.
Some cloud cover has moved in and the wind is picking up a bit so maybe it is going to rain, after all.
Just to keep you up to date…weather wise.