That's what's going on. There's just too much for me to share it all effectively. So, to summarize, this story about the teacher in space leading her first class sent me right back to high school where I heard someone talking about the Challenger exploding when I was coming down the stairs to go to biology. I choked up thinking that, for Hunter Frye (the kid featured in the story), that isn't a part of his reality at all.

I'm doing a workshop this week in a school that has this totally automated "bathroom of the future" thing going on. Everything- lights, flushing, paper towels...they all just do their thing on their own. Makes me feel like a widget on an assembly line- plus it's just freaky when the lights go off while you're still, um, *engaged*- you know?

Took the kids to Storyland last weekend. Camped, had a bear in our campsite, went three days without a shower, got cranky...you know, the usual.

And the Candidate-O-Rama continues with my new total at a whopping 47 points- one Obama staffer (7 points because he actually *called* first- so that's worth bonus points because he was calling to make an appointment) and an Obama speaking event for which I gave myself extra points. (15) I was 10 feet from the man, for pete's sake. It deserved more points than the time I stood in the back of a 700 person auditorium to hear Edwards talk.

When I was in college, I prided myself on making my birthday last a full week. I'd go to a different fraternity house each night, announce, "It's my birthday!" and drink free beer and get treated like a princess. Molly has apparently inherited that sense of entitlement- her third and final birthday party is tomorrow afternoon, a full 12 days after the actual anniversary of her 7 hour labor and delivery. Tomorrow we'll have 4 munchkins here for sprinkler fun, and (of course) cake, candles, singing and loot. No free beer, but I'm sure that day is coming...

I feel like I need to capture the high points of our trip, just so they don't *totally* disappear into my addled brain. All in all, it was the best of times, it was the worst of...oh hell, I may as well just get on with it.

We set up our tent in the rain. (TMOTH disputes this, but I believe that is because TMOTH's end of the tent was under a tree. I suppose only the tent knows for sure and it ain't talking.) I had a brief (like, under 10 seconds) breakdown at the thought of spending my primary "vacation" designated week in a tent in the rain with H & M. Then I sucked it up and moved on. In response to my intestinal fortitude, the Powers that Be allowed it to clear up the next morning and we spent two glorious days on the beach. *This* year I actually got off my ass and played with the kids. I also read The Manny- a high quality beach read if ever there was one. Castles were built, forts were dug, kites were flown, marshmallows were roasted, waves were chased, ice cream was eaten...the cuteness was abundant. Our first night there was Molly's birthday and I'd brought 4 cupcakes up for the occasion. (Let us not undervalue the effort it takes to transport 4 iced, decorated, homemade cupcakes 4 hours from home when they're packed with 5 days worth of gear and groceries and then to *locate* the aforementioned cupcakes in the rain- or the mist, as TMOTH contends. In any case, props to TMOTH for the locating. I'll take credit for the rest.) Unfortunately, our campfire-lit celebration turned into a lodge celebration with 15 people we've never seen before (or since) singing Happy Birthday to Molly right on cue (though I suppose that lit candles *do* kind of give away the moment).

The hardest part of the whole thing was showering. Kids + sunscreen + hours outside = sand in all kinds of places. Seriously, I was concerned that Molly might actually make a pearl by the time we came home, considering where she had sand. So that meant that we had to take the kids into the showers each day. The showers weren't *awful* really- not the worst I've ever experienced by any means. They were just...inconsistent. Too hot, too cold, no way to adjust the temperature. Plus the water pressure was seriously hard, which is doubly painful when you have a little sunburn. But the sand was an issue- it had to come off. I took Molly in and tried to get her cleaned off, but she screamed and screamed and finally TMOTH insisted that he take her in and try. Of course, she was *perfect* for him and trotted out of the shower proudly proclaiming "I did it!" Okay, no jealousy here- obviously TMOTH had done something different, right? He'd worked out some detail of the showering process that I'd missed. So I asked her- "Sweetie, what did Dada do differntly? Why was the shower so much easier for you when he did it?" and my lovely, sweet daughter, freshly scrubbed and looking like an angel looked up at me with those amazing blue eyes and answered,

"Because I love Dada more than you, Mama."

Ouch.

On the way home we stopped at Camp to celebrate Molly's birthday again with various and sundry family who spend their summers working there. Again with the cake and the singing and the candles...plus there was an unreal amount of Angelina Ballerina stuff to be had, and the eldest nephew built a shelf/ stage that was the hit of the evening. After three (unscheduled) days there hiking, swimming, playing and chatting, we *finally* headed back to the land of PS2, Tivo, junk food and AC. Also to the land of mildewed tents, stinky clothes, and moldy dishes that didn't *quite* get washed before we packed them in Maine. Oops.

So we're back and I'm chock-full of post vacation panic. Vacation itself was amazing- but more about that later. At *this* point, I'm in a tizzy over the following:

1. Mountains of cleaning and laundry to do.
2. Mountains of dishes to do.
3. Weedy garden.
4. Shasta Daisies being eaten to nubs by damn Asiatic Beetles.
5. Kids start daycamp tomorrow- ask me if I have *any* idea where their lists of "stuff to bring" are.
6. Back to work tomorrow, to face the grumpitty grumps there.
7. I want to make a blueberry pie, but don't have whipped cream or ice cream so, really, what's the point?
8. Must mow yard before we start losing neighborhood children in it.
9. General post-vacation malaise.

But... I *did* make it to the grocery store this morning, and TMOTH took care of all the unloading and equipment storage (no mean feat since beach camping = bringing 2 tons of sand home with you). And the kids are napping so I have a few quiet moments to post, and I suppose I can just run down to the gas station for a pint of ice cream if I *really* want to make the pie. Plus I have corn on the cob, tomatoes, melon and my entire green bean harvest (just enough for two servings) for dinner tonight and at least I have a job to go to tomorrow, and TMOTH has an uninterrupted week to get his classroom set up and vacation simply rocked so I suppose that, on balance, I can still consider myself blessed, can't I?

Not *last* last, just last for a week or so. The kids, TMOTH and I are headed here for the week. Molly turns 4 tomorrow, but that's another post for another day. *This* post is about the ridiculous errand I tried to run this afternoon. You might remember that the kids and I stopped at the library yesterday to get stuff for the trip. They wanted books to listen to in the car. The library, being the underfunded municipal agency that it is, has just that. Books to listen to in the car, aka Books on Tape.

But I don't have a Walkman anymore. In fact, I don't remember the last time I actually *saw* a Walkman. So I went to Circuit City and looked for a cassette player, which I should have known was not only an exercise in futility, but *also* a sure fire way to humiliate myself in front of the 18 year old kid behind the counter. The kid looked at me *exactly* the same way I looked at my mom when she bemoaned the fact that they didn't make 8-Tracks anymore. The kid actually snickered, which made me want to bang him over the hand with my cane. Not that I *have* a cane, but it seems like if I'm going to be considered geriatric, I should at least get a cane as part of the deal. Damn whippersnappers...

Needless to say, the Books on Tape are going back to the library before we leave town tomorrow.

We went downtown for a concert tonight. Keene does this really Mayberry thing where they have free concerts on the square every Wednesday night in the summer. The square, which is actually a circle, looks like this:

Ignore the bubbles- while they certainly are a fixture in the summer, there were no bubbles in evidence tonight.

Tonight's band was Guitar B Q which turned out to be a lot of Skynard covers, not too bad in general. But that's not the point of the thing. The *point* is that these events bring out a serious cross section of the Keene community. Between the residents of the hospice and assisted living apartment building across the street, to the college students who just wander in, to the families like us- you see a little bit of everything. And tonight was no exception. Harry and Molly spent most of the evening running in circles around the gazebo, chasing other kids and generally behaving like poster children for All American Summer. Then, thanks to their new friends, they discovered that the water fountain could be made to squirt upwards of 10 feet (right into the aged-and-infirm section of the 40 or so folks on the square) if the held a thumb over the hole. That, combined with the rain that turned into a downpour right around "Sweet Home Alabama" made for really, really wet kids. And really, really happy kids. Later, as we were putting them in the shower, after TMOTH chased us all around the yard (in the rain) spraying us with his water bottle and holding the housekeys hostage and Harry had accidentally flushed Molly's spankies and TMOTH had done the unthinkable and used his he-man strength to retrieve them from the pipe with his bare hands, Harry's closing words seemed to sum up the oddness of the evening nicely.

"Mama, will the world ever run out of yarn?"

My life is a Fellini film.