“Marraige is all about sharing,” Neil is fond of saying, when what he reallys means is, “Why can’t I drink from your water glass? I don’t want to get my own.”
The answer is, “Because it’s mine. And because maybe I’m trying to see how much water I drink in a day and maybe you just screwed up my count. Grrr…” Yes, I growl.

I was reading MightyGirl today and I cracked up laughing, because I so feel her pain. I could have written that post myself. I buy our toothbrushes in girl/boy colors to make it super-freaking-obvious which one belongs to me and which one belongs to Neil. You’d think anyway.

Me: are you using my toothbrush?
Neil: no.
Me: yes you are.
Neil: (looks down at handle) oh shit. oops.

But in all fairness to Neil, this has only happened a few times. It’s the Towel Confusion that reigns supreme in my house. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to take a shower and found my towel pre-moistened for me. How thoughtful, right? Um no. It’s really, really gross.

And then there was this: I walked in the bathroom when Neil was in the shower the other day. There’s a towel draped over the door, and my hook is suspiciously empty. Hmm…

Me: hey, that’s my towel.
Neil: no it isn’t.
Me: yours is right here on your hook.
Neil: that’s not my hook.

Oh really? Looks like we’ll be starting from scratch on this one.

I have lots of good memories of going to the Yarmouth Clam Festival when I was a kid. I think we probably went every year; driving to the playground in Yarmouth, parking the car, waiting for the shuttle to come. The shuttle was any one of the town school buses that were put to use picking up festival goers, bringing them to the center of town, only to return for their fried-dough-stuffed, Tilt-a-Whirled-selves later that night. That one day of the year would be one of the few times that I’d ever ride a school bus over the course of my life. And by way of explanation, for those of you who don’t know me, when your mom teaches at your school, you don’t get to ride a bus. I probably don’t have to tell you, for those of you who do know me, that the bus was every bit as good as the actual festival to me. I mean, it’s a school bus! For kids! Like me!
So this year marked year one of Dashiell’s (and Cathy, Marjetta, Michael, Cory, and Robyn’s) introduction to the Festival. For better or worse. He was pretty thoroughly entertained (the people watching is really, really good*) and only somewhat confused when the Kora Temple Shriner’s came through the parade with their tiny cars and big, old men. Can you blame him?
I think not.

* Highlights include fashion mistakes too numerous to mention and one mom “helping” her kids pee outside by holding them around their waists while they clung to their mylar balloons. Mom: helping might have better involved you holding the balloons so they could pop a squat more effectively. Just a thought. But it was good entertainment, so thanks for not thinking of that.

Could someone please do something to divert attention from Lindsay Lohan and Britney?
I’m bored with them. Thank you.

p.s. Speaking of scintilating celebrity gossip, I hear Pat Sajak and Vanna White will be at the Yarmouth Clam Festival this weekend. And get this. So. Will. We.

I can barely stand it! No really. I’m that cool.

Look out, NY! Here we come. Wah hoo.
I can’t believe that I haven’t been back to the city since I left in 2003. I’ve been upstate (that’s where we got married, after all) but just haven’t made it back to the city proper. I’ve missed it and I’ve really wanted to share my old neighborhood and drink beer from a styrofoam cup with Neil, but something has always come up to keep us from driving down there.
But it’s all official-like now. We’re coming in August, which gives me about a month to plan the trip. Where to stay (friends, that’s your cue to volunteer your fold-out couch), what to see….

For sure:
Take Neil to Brooklyn via the F train. Walk around Park Slope to see what’s new, buy ravioli at that little Italian deli on 7th (sooo good and creamy), expect around every corner we will run smack-dab into ex-boyfriends, shop and meander our way up towards the park and on to Farrell’s for some take-out beer to get us through the last push into my old neighborhood. Mission: relive the past and try not to be too sad about it. There’s a lot of memories there. Good and bad, but mostly good.

Hmm… well that just covers one corner of Brooklyn and I imagine we’ll spend a little time in the actual city too. Show him where I used to work? I have to take him to Jimmy’s Corner, that’s not even up for debate. A lot of time and money was spent here, back when it was still filled with smoke even! I wonder if this is why I could always pay my rent but never seemed to be able to save any money…

Where else? What else? Got any good ideas Internet?

Buh-bye.