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Shout out from New Hamp-shy-er
Jul. 11th, 2004 06:18 pmI am typing this from my mom's new computer, which is to say my old computer, which took only about ten hours to fully set up. Blame most of this on RCN, her craptabulous ISP, which has the most godawful customer service I've encountered in a while. (I shouldn't have to explain to them what a domain name server IP address is, and why I want them to give it to me. Argh.) Between my tech support woes and my mom's constant passive-aggressive manipulation, I am on a fairly short tether just now. *growl, snap*
K. and I spent most of Thursday and Friday on the road, driving across Canada, New York, and Massachusetts. We stopped at the Toronto Zoo on Thursday (or, as I now call it, the Goose-Poop Zoo), where the beavers were once again delightful, and a gang of hoodlum kangaroos watched us warily while pestering an emu. We found a nest of baby birds which were photoreactive: every time the flash on my camera went off, they, in unison, stretched out their necks and opened their little beaks. *flash-cheep-sproing*, *flash-cheep-sproing*.
Friday, on a whim, we stopped at the Old Stone Fort in eastern NY. It was a church that had been converted to a stockaded fort during the Revolution, now with a museum on the second floor, a cannonball hole in the back, six additional outbuildings full of guaranteed Old Stuff, and a button on a pole that said "Press button for fort history." Kinda neat, kinda kitschy; one of the buildings was full of old electronics, including a movie projector from the early 20th century and a lovely display of vacuum tubes. The (cute, bodice-wearing) curator kept it open past 5:00 for us.
Portsmouth is pleasant and sunny, with threads and eddies of nostalgia clinging here and there. Yesterday, strangely enough, I saw my ex-girlfriend Maura for the first time in fourteen years. She and I had a turbulent, albeit sexy, relationship during my senior year, from which neither of us made it out unscathed—I perhaps a bit more scathed than she. She's working in an upscale beauty salon in downtown Portsmouth; she's married, with two kids, and seems to have done pretty well for herself. It was actually quite good to see her; I'd always wondered what had happened to her, and was glad to see her life took an upturn after high school. She has published some porn, just like me, which I found somewhat amusing.
Tonight we are planning to eat Thai food and look at my mom's vacation pix from the British Isles. If we are all very lucky, I won't commit matricide before leaving for Pinewoods tomorrow, where two soothing ponds surrounded by buxom young things in bikinis await me. The hoosegow would be considerably less pleasant, so I will try to control myself.
I imagine my next entry won't be 'til after Saturday.
K. and I spent most of Thursday and Friday on the road, driving across Canada, New York, and Massachusetts. We stopped at the Toronto Zoo on Thursday (or, as I now call it, the Goose-Poop Zoo), where the beavers were once again delightful, and a gang of hoodlum kangaroos watched us warily while pestering an emu. We found a nest of baby birds which were photoreactive: every time the flash on my camera went off, they, in unison, stretched out their necks and opened their little beaks. *flash-cheep-sproing*, *flash-cheep-sproing*.
Friday, on a whim, we stopped at the Old Stone Fort in eastern NY. It was a church that had been converted to a stockaded fort during the Revolution, now with a museum on the second floor, a cannonball hole in the back, six additional outbuildings full of guaranteed Old Stuff, and a button on a pole that said "Press button for fort history." Kinda neat, kinda kitschy; one of the buildings was full of old electronics, including a movie projector from the early 20th century and a lovely display of vacuum tubes. The (cute, bodice-wearing) curator kept it open past 5:00 for us.
Portsmouth is pleasant and sunny, with threads and eddies of nostalgia clinging here and there. Yesterday, strangely enough, I saw my ex-girlfriend Maura for the first time in fourteen years. She and I had a turbulent, albeit sexy, relationship during my senior year, from which neither of us made it out unscathed—I perhaps a bit more scathed than she. She's working in an upscale beauty salon in downtown Portsmouth; she's married, with two kids, and seems to have done pretty well for herself. It was actually quite good to see her; I'd always wondered what had happened to her, and was glad to see her life took an upturn after high school. She has published some porn, just like me, which I found somewhat amusing.
Tonight we are planning to eat Thai food and look at my mom's vacation pix from the British Isles. If we are all very lucky, I won't commit matricide before leaving for Pinewoods tomorrow, where two soothing ponds surrounded by buxom young things in bikinis await me. The hoosegow would be considerably less pleasant, so I will try to control myself.
I imagine my next entry won't be 'til after Saturday.
