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 First day at the beach. It was eighty and sunny; you have to be daft, or regularly employed, not to head to the beach. We built a causeway and a lagoon in the sand, and Gnat played Giant Sea Monster and destroyed them all. I played insurance adjuster, and told all the little people that their policies did not cover the damage. Fun for all. There were some whiny kids adjacent whose personalities just seemed like a thin smear of complaints and demands, and it reminded me again how lucky I am to have a kid with a good temperament. Oh, she has her moods. Don’t we all. But I think I’d go nuts if I had to listen to whining all day.
She made a rock collection. By the time we left my pockets were heavy with stones only a five-year old can find interesting – and that reflects poorly on the rest of us, I think. They were interesting stones, when you think about it. We had a little science conversation about the origin of rocks, how the earth was all melty once, and it cooled down and then some chunks fell off. Basically, it’s all rock down below. The Earth is all rock. (Hence the name.) I showed her how to skip rocks. She showed me how to plunk them. We walked back along the shore. We waved to dogs and ducks. As good as it gets.
I used to walk around the lake every day with Jasper, back when we lived a little closer; seems very long ago. I owe him a walk around the lake again. All our stores of summers are finite, but his more so.
Yes, it’s perfect again. Or was until sunset; then the biting insects came out. I have bats upstairs who will feast tonight, and that’s good. But I also have a leg of welts, which is . . . typical.
That’s all for tonight – I’m having modem problems, it seems. The modem turns itself on and off and hey presto, I’m back in 1982. The internet she no be there. I have no intention of spending all night turning things on and off to reload pages I wish to correct, so you’ll have to be content with this. Besides, it’s Two Column Night. I’m doing medical marijuana, mostly because I came up with a line I really wanted to use: the states are the laboratories of democracy, yes, but this doesn’t mean they should be the meth labs of democracy. I’m actually in favor of medical weed, so it took some work to get that phrase properly seated.
I’m sure there will be Screedblog updates now and then tomorrow. Don’t check more than twice a day, though. I’m not one of those posting machines who puts up nine entries an hour; two or three per day will suffice. Later come the links and all the rest of the niceties. But for now I have to finish other projects, like the interface for the new video page. I have a few clips from a 1950s “What’s My Line” and the 1970 version that provide ample evidence for my ongoing Brief against the 70s.
Oh! Which reminds me. This is a new Kotex ad:
Gah. This is so late 60s early 70s it makes my flesh crawl – the sillouette outline, the long neck, the flowers – it’s all from an era where Florence Henderson was still menstruating. I’ve given up hope that the styles of that era will ever die; they mean too many good things to too many “creative” types, however undeserved the reputation may be. Why no one ever pillages the 30s, 40s and 50s for ideas – eras that had superb graphics the likes of which these patchouli-addled whippersnappers could never craft – is beyond me. I guess they figure they can’t lose: the aging boomers will feel flattered that the styles of their Flaming Youth are still cool; the young kids, having been raised on the idea that the 60s were the apex of human civilization and the early 70s were kinda funky and cool in a weird sort of way, respond the same way I respond to styles of the 50s: like messages from Atlantis.
Only a matter of time before Peter Max comes back.
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