look

I'm so far behind that I'm basically lost.  Let's just say the summer has been a blast thus far: from newfangled AC45s to oldfangled Tall Ships to tall tennis players (as in 6'9") to outdoor movies (on an inflatable screen!) to Surf Fest to Folk Fest to Jazz Fest to ... well, the general feeling is blink-and-you'll-miss-it.  But all that "big stuff" aside, I'm still partial to the little stuff, like an impromptu hairdressing session at Second Beach over which I stumbled sometime during the past week.  Seriously, I had to do a double take, i.e., what's going on here?  Then, once I'd figured it out, I was like, "Why not? Sign me up ... "

the cup

I tend to start each day telling myself (in spirit if not in actuality), "OK, today I will get my life organized."  But, of course, that doesn't happen.  It'll never happen. It's just way too beautiful out there, and there's way too much going on in the way of worthy distraction. Take this weekend, for instance. Newport hosted the America's Cup ... sort of.  It was actually the America's Cup World Series. Totally different animal.  A mere preamble (a very cool global preamble) to the real deal, set to take place in San Francisco in the coming year. Still, who can resist? So I hopped on my bike — despite having so much other stuff I really could/should have been accomplishing, and having already experienced the AC spectacle from the water a day prior — and pedaled out to Fort Adams to soak up the scene. Along the way, I passed some kids who had set up a lemonade stand.  I stopped, as it was hot, and lemonade struck me as just the thing. The cost was 75 cents.  So I handed this cute young girl wearing a red-checkered apron (with pockets! how practical!) a dollar and said what seemed the only natural thing to say: "Keep the change."

And that got me thinking ... about the America's Cup and all manner of things.  There's been so much talk about how "it's just not the same" and "remember when?" But perhaps keeping/embracing the change isn't such bad advice, to oneself or to anyone else.

And making lemonade is pretty sweet, too ...

monday

I like to think I have good intentions.  I mean, I do have good intentions for the most part, especially on Mondays when a whole new week filled with the promise of time (precious time) to get everything done stretches ahead on the calendar. There's no erasing the past, of course, including what may or may not have gotten done during the weeks and weekend just prior. Not that anyone should want to erase the past ... OK, certain aspects of it.

This past weekend, though, was a BEAUTY.  All manner of boats, big and small, modest and otherwise, were out on the bay as participants in the New York Yacht Club's Annual Regatta presented by Rolex.  Other boats were just tooling around, in the harbor and elsewhere, including a collection of Beetle Cats recently built and launched by students at IYRS (the International Yacht Restoration School). After a long gray stretch, all this was particularly sweet. Even the lost shoes ... leftover from a hopping Saturday night??

My impulse — as a person of good intentions, and that includes picking up litter — was to place them in the nearest trash can.  But I didn't do it, because I thought maybe-just-maybe someone would realize they were missing something and come back looking for them. Which reminded me of something (someone) left behind on a bench at the corner of Bellevue and Memorial last summer ...

And here we are again.

Summer ......

all wet

I usually follow instructions. 
When I drove past this sign yesterday — corner of Warner and Gould — I stopped, parked, got out, and did exactly what was suggested.  
Must say: It was pretty nice. 
It didn't matter that the sky was gray.  
Or that the weirdly reflective STOP sign overhead was all bent out-of-shape. 
Or that I didn't last the whole minute (probably more like 15 seconds).  
When I got back in the car, I felt revived.  
If I followed those instructions today, of course, I'd get a faceful.  
Of rain, that is.  
Which I suppose might be enlivening in it own way ... 

bounty

I'm just back from the annual day-before-Easter egg hunt in Touro Park, where I stood peering through the rusty fence and aged arches of the Old Stone Mill at all the little people gathering all their little treasures, sometimes to an excessive degree, and all I could think — alongside the strangeness of being part of it yet not part of it at all — was, "Geez, it's been a while."

Still, I remember those little shoes (with Velcro straps). Those little tights. Those little hands. The Easter Bunny.

So I walked over to see him — the bunny, standing over on Pelham Street, outside Channing Memorial Church — and he gave me a shrug. Actually, the shrug was intended for the scared little boy behind me who wanted no part of of it: this giant funny/fuzzy Easter Bunny. The accompanying mom was so disappointed. "OK, I guess you don't HAVE to say hello to the Easter Bunny," she was saying with a big dramatic sigh.

And that reminded me, just 'cause one thing always leads to another, of an occasion not long ago when I was picking up some cupcakes from the Mad Hatter Bakery on Broadway. (The Mad Hatter's a rabbit, right? So it's not totally illogical that I'd be reminded?) As I stood deliberating over the wealth of colorful cupcake choices, including a full host of Angry Birds (with whom I'm essentially unfamiliar but recognize in a generic sort of way), I spied something on what must have been the employee bulletin board. The baker/proprietor, Audra, let me step behind the counter to take a quick pic, just because it really cracked me up.

Actually, now that I think of it, the Mad Hatter isn't a rabbit — that's the March Hare — so I guess what I really am is cracked. Or just forgetful. Or both.

In any case, before I knew it, it was over. Seriously, the egg hunt didn't last more than twenty minutes before some guy reeled in the colored tape delineating the areas for different age groups, and everyone went back to their usual sunny pasttimes ...

yesterday