For once the weather in my head matches the weather outside: warm, transitional, pointed toward tomorrow, serenely and endlessly blue. It’s not the business end of summer yet, it’s the part where all roads run forward and the novelty of leaving the leathers at home has not worn off. Sweating is still cute.
The three-day weekend for you was a four-day weekend for me, since I generally don’t work Fridays anyway; by the time Tuesday morning rolled around and the workaday began again, I was halfway to going native. “Sorry buddy, Linus isn’t here. He left a note. Dunno. It just says Croatoan. And then there’s a picture of, uh, never mind. But it’s circumcized.”
The vacation stretch was lovely, and it fell easily into two parts. Friday and Saturday were the Central Park days, and Sunday and Monday were the Boat Trip days. On Saturday night, as a sort of semicolon to the weekend, I saw Revenge of the Sith at the big-o huge-o Lincoln Center IMAX (those are technical terms), where the monstrosity of Hayden Christensen‘s whiny Anakin Skywalker loomed vast on the seven-story-high screen. Frankly, acting and writing aside, I loved it. I was so swept up in the intricate joy of the thing — just like the old Star Wars days! — that I tried watching Episode II: Attack of the Clones again on DVD, to sort of harmonize with the convergence or summat.
Big mistake. Don’t try this at home. It was even worse than I remember, and that’s saying something. I’m marooned in Chapter 31 and I keep trying to use the Force to make them shut up, but it doesn’t seem to be working. I’ve got the remote, but that’s not the same somehow.
A propos of nothing, my nod for best lame attempt at domain-name squatting goes to the guys who are holding revengeofthesith.com. Check it out. I’m picturing them looking innocent. “Revenge of the Sith? Is that a movie? Never heard of it. But if you want to buy our domain I’m sure we could work something out.”
The weekend before last we had the first technical boat trip of the season, which is to say that we showed up at North Cove and boarded Ventura, oooh-ing and aaah-ing at the new refits and hearing the tales of how the carpenter made the rebuilt mast ¾” too wide for the holes it needed to fit into.
Captain Pat: You have to imagine this 2,000 pound mast bearing down onto the deck, trying to force its way into holes that are just a little too small.
Linus: Sounds kind of like high school.
It commenced to pour and then commenced to not stop pouring, so we hung out below and drank beer and told stories. This past weekend we actually left the dock, which was even more fun. Sunday’s weather was splendid and luxurious and some of the pictures are posted here on Flickr (more images to come). Monday, when my friend Ann Vriend and her friend Steve joined us, it was a bit chilly and overcast. But the boat led to the post-boat obligatory slushy margaritas (mine: passion-fruit), which led somehow to The Waterfront and soft-shell crabs. It was Memorial Day, scattered, warm, irrelevant, ephemeral. Everything it oughta.
When I mumbled “Croatoan” Tuesday morning, I wasn’t kidding.