August was heavy on fiction for two reasons. One, it included our vacation week and when Michelle asked what I wanted to do on the Cape, I said: read. Two, I wanted to really seek out, read and study the genre books that I like as I prep to (finally) get back to writing my own this fall.
There were a lot of weird things that happened in the 80’s: Bunnicula, Mr Belvedere’s employment situation, those weird vinyl E.T. dolls, Noid, Muppet Babies, but somewhere up near the top of the list must be the musical Cats. How did this become a hit?
It would be easy to blame Michelle, but I really only have myself to blame for this one. As a joke, I put on the cast recording in the car one day and later showed them a few YouTube clips. Cecilia was appropriately horrified. Allison, on the other hand, was smitten. This was the greatest thing since glitter tattoos and warm chocolate chip cookies.
She has spent the entire week begging to listen and learn more about this strange tribe of cats. She has been prancing around the house singing Magical Mister Mistoffelees. I have spent it cursing Andrew Lloyd Webber.
After a cross country trip and dealing with one child’s new found phobia of giant costumed characters, we decided to spend our summer holiday this year closer to home. We would spend a week in Brewster and do all the touristy things we typically avoid when we are only there for a weekend.
Cape Cod is a hang out place. Just about everywhere is near some body of water whether it’s the ocean, bay or a lake. Strange as it appears on the surface, in a lot of ways the Cape vibe is similar to Hawaii. Once you’ve finally made it, you mostly just want to chill out in a chair, have an adult beverage, stare out at the water or read a book. All of which is completely possible with two kids under the age of 10!
They are gone. The house is quiet. Only the sound of the wind shaking the last drops of rain off the trees to keep me company. I can’t tell you it doesn’t sound like bliss nice right now.
We survived the first morning. It ran the roller coaster of emotions, from sleepy breakfast eaters to hair brushing banshees, but in the end everyone (mostly) remembered their parts and we were able to get out the door and down to the bus stop without strangling each other.
Ally was happy to show off her shiny new backpack and head off to one last year at pre-school.
Cecilia was her usual mix of bristling nerves and confidence, but when the time came she shed our hugs quickly and charged onto the bus with her friends. The door closed and the bus was off to the next stop.
Third graders don’t look back. She was ready to go.
It’s coming. I can just about hear the diesel rumble and smell that burning oil as the bus driver climbs our hill to whisk the kids away. The crunching thunk of that door closing is one of the sweeter sounds of the season.
I’m sure I’ll miss the girls in two weeks, but I’m ready to get back to the school routine. I’m just tapped out. I’m out of swim games. I’m out of crafts. I’m out of clever eye spy objects. I’m out of bourbon. It’s time.
Ah late August, the Sunday night of summer.