You know, 2002, The Good Ole Days

I just returned from a weekend trip to Little Rhody, that's the Biggest Little State in the Union for all those of you who are not in the know. T-Diddy invited me down to see Christopher Guest, Harry Shearer and Michael McKean performing live at the Newport Film Festival. It was, of course, very cool.

First I went to a barbecue at my cousin's house for Jack's 3rd birthday. Baby #8 was just born into my family, we're like a regular Cabbage Patch. Seeing all the kids is a little bittersweet for me, when I lived in RI I used to stop by all the time to visit and play with the kids. They all knew me and loved to climb all over me. But young kids (the oldest is four and a half) are really sensitive and they don't like to be abandoned. Now they walk right past me, and in your head you see them thinking, oh yeah, that lady, she's okay. Maybe they remember that time at Easter I read The Incredibles book three times in a row, making all the different voices. I don't know.

By the way, this is what it sounds like at every family gathering now: "Mom! Mom! Mommy! Mama! Mommy! Mama! Mom! MomEEE! MOMMY! Grandma! Grandma! Grandma! MAMA! MAMA! Mommy! Mommy! Momeeeeeeeeee!"

My cousin's new house has a pool, but my Dad didn't mention this to me before I left the city, so my swimsuit was home in Brooklyn. Part of me was paranoid Aunty Nancy was intentionally left out of the pool; I am a very well-behaved splasher but I may have a reputation as a pee-er due to an unfortunate incident circa 1985.

Then it was off to hang with T-Diddy in Newport and spend the night doing nothing, just like in the good ol' days. It reminded me of all the summers I would come home from college, and be living at home. Of course, during the year I'd been horrible at keeping in touch with the few people from high school that could still be considered friends. I'd have some job, or two, but most evenings I'd be totally bored. Thank God Timmy was usually spending the summers in RI too. Some nights I'd be so bored, I'd call him up and say, please come pick me up right now, I'm so bored, I don't care what we do. We could drive around the block in circles. I wouldn't care. Sometimes we would, Timmy driving with his knees, the windows rolled down, and us singing along to the radio, loudly, and pissing off the neighbors. Or sometimes I'd rent a movie and bring it to his place, although usually only one of us managed to stay awake for it. Or he'd leave the house open, so I could come over and go for a swim while he was out golfing. Saturday night we went to the driving range and I watched T hit balls- he wants be to try to hit a few, but I like to just watch. I'm practicing in case someday I have a boyfriend who likes to go to the driving range, then I can go along and be a good little spectator. Nice shot, honey! Way to hit that little ball!

Although I love my life in Brooklyn, these little trips home are a reminder that what I had in RI wasn't so bad.