I know I’ve been remiss around the blog lately, but I have vacation as an excuse. We’re in Maine, smack in the middle of a prolonged heat wave, in a rented cottage that was built eons before air conditioning was even a spark of genius in anyone’s imagination. The view from the windows is pretty spectacular, what with all the crashing waves and seafoam-specked boulders and Canadian men in poorly chosen Speedo bathing suits. The view from the inside is…well, allow me to demonstrate:
And there you have it: how a seagull looks a second before he’s going to poop on your car. True fact.
Anyway, we have spent the majority of the time sweating and eating. In particular, Aura has been cutting a wide swath through the regional seafood supply, inhaling chowder and lobster at an alarmingly expensive rate. Every now and then we try to tempt her with cheaper fare, pointing to other children in whatever restaurant we’re in and saying things in a cheerily optimistic tone of voice, such as “Just LOOK at that $1.99 grilled cheese!” or “That $2.50 hot dog appears to be FANTASTIC!” But nothing. She just brandishes a lobster cracker at us, drawn butter dripping down her chin, our dreams of early retirement seeping away with her every bite.
Hope everyone is enjoying the beginning of September. We’re supposed to have a hurricane right around the time we get home, so you can already tell what kind of month THIS is going to be.
(The lots-of-peanut-butter-cups kind of month. Obviously.)
If I had to choose. I’d rather have a framed photograph of a Canadian in a mankini in need of a manzillian on my wall over that fugly seagull picture.
Be careful in that storm!! It totally thwarted any plans we had to go to the beach this weekend.
Haha I said “thwart”. And now I want lobster.
Your girl’s got good taste! I can’t even imagine how good lobster bisque on the EAST COAST is.
Have some chowder & lobster for me, will ya?!
And FYI – Canadian men don’t wear Speedos. They wear cut off jean shorts.
Oh yes! I have one of those educated palette, expensive eaters as well. Except mine is 8, a football player and edging up to 80 pounds.
Imagine the dollar signs I see leaving every time we walk into a sushi restaurant or a steakhouse.
We want to be proud that their tastebuds are so refined but in reality we just cry because our cute shoe fund is going down our kids’ gullets.
Ah, to be a child again and blissfully unaware of how hard money is to come by.