you can’t always get what you want

This is a state park near us. We go to walk, to picnic, to lay about – actually that’s what I go for.

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My family goes there to bike.

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I think I’ve told you before. Haven’t I? It’s no biggie. Everyone has something. Some people can’t eat a peanut. Some can’t have dairy (the horror). Some are diabetic. I too have a debilitating challenge. I can’t ride a bike. Well, technically I may be able to actually ride a bike without killing myself, but I really really don’t want to.

My family tried to have an intervention a couple of years ago. They were horrified for me. My husband lived on his bike throughout his childhood. Both my kids adore their bikes. They gave me a long list of reasons why I’d love it. The freedom! The independence! So I finally caved in and they bought me a fancy bike. Took me out every night to practice. And I tried. I acted excited. I seemed enthused. It was awful.

I don’t like riding a bike. It makes me nervous. It makes me feel out of control. It gives me zero happiness. Freedom and independence are not for me. Sorry.

This causes great sadness in my family. I’m like a traitor among them. An alien. They’ll never be able to ride like a full family.

They’ll get over it.

 

 

 

Downer Abbey

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For all of those folks who haven’t caught up on this season’s episodes of Downton Abbey, please stop reading and go enjoy your short-lived happiness with the show. What I mean is…SPOILER ALERT. Meh.

Sorry, I’m pissed. I know it’s an English melodrama. I know it’s not real. But really? Really?

Must I be raked over the emotional coals on each character? The maid who has to give away her little Charlie…Edith and her endless basket of bad luck…and Cybil.  Oh lord do not even get me started on Cybil.  2 doctors in a room and she still dies while they look at each other by the fire. Even Thomas and his tortured, closeted life makes me sad.

And then last week they kill Matthew. No. Wait. They kill Matthew after he and Mary joyfully welcome a son. After Mary tells him over and over again that he is the only person who knows her. AFTER a speech from the Earl of Grantham about happiness finally coming to the abbey.  I know, I know. Contracts expire. Actors have to move on. Couldn’t they have done a switcheroo a la Darren on Bewitched? Or the older sister from Rosanne?

It’s really bad when you are praying for more time spent on O’Brien just to avoid the sadness.

I know I still have Bates and Anna. And maybe Mrs. Patmore will get lucky soon.

Sigh.

Say Uncle!!

My mom is one of 5 – she’s the second oldest.  When I was little, I was basically an only child for 11 long, glorious years.  It was dreamy.   But I was a spoiled brat.  You need to know.

One of the people who had the biggest hand in turning me into this brat was my older uncle.  He’s always the life of the party.  I don’t ever remember him not laughing – or not trying to make other people laugh.  This picture would not be possible if I was standing next to anyone else.

He was (and is) so cool.  He ate dinner at 11pm every night (the height of coolness right?)  His house was full of noise.  It was loud and fun.  My house was always quiet and full of people reading.  I loved his house.

Here’s my favorite story of his awesomeness:  When I was 6 or maybe 7, we all went to India for a wedding (actually we went everywhere together.  There was never an outing with just 2 or 3 people.  It was always a caravan of 8-9 adults and me.  That’s how we rolled).  My grandparents still owned the apartment my mom grew up in.  They hadn’t updated any of the original features – think no AC and no tv.  Their neighbors, however, had completely gutted the place.  They had all the “Western” goodies.  Being the über brat that I was, I asked why the neighbors had a tv and we didn’t.  Although – full disclosure –  I didn’t ask…. it was  more like an annoying whine or a fitful tantrum.  My parents immediately started the “you have no idea how luck you are” lecture, wagging finger and all.

My uncle….no lecture.  Know what he did?  He went out and bought a tv.  Twice the size of the neighbor’s tv.  Who’s better than him? Nobody. This episode may also explain my massive tv addiction, but who cares!

This is one of my favorite pictures of us. Take your eyes off my smashing outfit and notice the war like conditions of the subway stop where this picture was taken.  What was happening in Queens!

We’re gonna need a bigger boat, or a better vacation

I’m not the only freak in my marriage.  Here’s proof.  Last year, my kids and I got bamboozled into what we thought was a vacation on Martha’s Vineyard.  It was actually the Jaws“ tour.

Brody’s house? Saw it.  The beach that the Kinter boy’s raft washed up on?  Went there.  The docks where Quint took the Orca out to kill the fish with Brody and Hooper?  Spent an afternoon there.  Oh well – my kids will need something to tell their future therapist, this is good enough.

Why should we have to suffer alone….below are a few of the stops on the tour.

   happy naive family gets off the ferry expecting vacation

 the aforementioned docks…

. Town Hall where Brody fought to shut the beach down    Something happened here, but I can’t remember

Cast/crew stayed here during filming (yep, stayed there)

  Jaws bridge – spot where the shark went from the ocean to the bay (or something).  Apparently everyone jumps off it. That’s my girl jumping off – squeezing in some fun.

Let me know if you’d like to go, I’ve got a very willing guide.

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