Friday, August 04, 2006
Big Big Man had a birthday yesterday. Happy birthday, dear husband o' mine! We went to the restaurant on the water at Crab Meadow Beach, where someone was throwing a farewell party on the patio for their son, who was en route to the University of Scranton. Why throw an expensive party when your son is going to such a mediocre school? Why not save the money for tuition, which will be overpriced for the education your kid actually gets, anyway?
Anyway, the place was jammed with groups of women of a certain age who looked like the ladies who lunch with my mother -- beautifully done hair, perfect makeup, stylish outfits -- all out for someone's birthday or someone's retirement, or just because it was too damn hot to cook. They all sat Last Supper-style at long tables, handing gift bags back and forth, ordering wine and mussels marinara and more bread, and cackling loudly at each other's comments. "She's pregnant?" I heard a table address one of its ladies. Then she got a raucous cheer.
After we ate, we went outside and picked up a wiffleball and plastic bat left by Scranton boy's friends, and Big Big Man tossed me a few balls. I stood there in my dress and heels and tried to hit them. The wind was blowing a few raindrops on us, the sky was inky gray over the Sound, and Scranton guy's friends were drinking from red plastic cups and playing horseshoes and beach volleyball. For about the millionth time, I told Big Big Man the story of the giant, purplish jellyfish that was, I'd say, oh, at least 15 feet long my sister and I found splayed over the jetty at the end of that beach when we were kids.
And then, on our way to "Pirates of the Carribbean," just to continue the nautical theme, we stopped at the East Northport Fireman's Fair and I won a stuffed jellyfish by getting a rubber frog to jump into a box. I love him. I will call him Squishy.
Anyway, the place was jammed with groups of women of a certain age who looked like the ladies who lunch with my mother -- beautifully done hair, perfect makeup, stylish outfits -- all out for someone's birthday or someone's retirement, or just because it was too damn hot to cook. They all sat Last Supper-style at long tables, handing gift bags back and forth, ordering wine and mussels marinara and more bread, and cackling loudly at each other's comments. "She's pregnant?" I heard a table address one of its ladies. Then she got a raucous cheer.
After we ate, we went outside and picked up a wiffleball and plastic bat left by Scranton boy's friends, and Big Big Man tossed me a few balls. I stood there in my dress and heels and tried to hit them. The wind was blowing a few raindrops on us, the sky was inky gray over the Sound, and Scranton guy's friends were drinking from red plastic cups and playing horseshoes and beach volleyball. For about the millionth time, I told Big Big Man the story of the giant, purplish jellyfish that was, I'd say, oh, at least 15 feet long my sister and I found splayed over the jetty at the end of that beach when we were kids.
And then, on our way to "Pirates of the Carribbean," just to continue the nautical theme, we stopped at the East Northport Fireman's Fair and I won a stuffed jellyfish by getting a rubber frog to jump into a box. I love him. I will call him Squishy.
