Poolside

I watched it. So what.

The Victoria-Beckham-Coming-to-America thing on tv last night, that is. I don't know if it's going to be a weekly show or not based on the spanking it took in the early show reviews.

Having not knowing really anything about her, besides being British and the ridiculousness of the Spice Girls, I was kind of charmed by the show. Not charmed in the way that I would be if, oh, I don't know, SIMON LE BON of DURAN DURAN walked up to me during one of my walks with the dog and baby to offer me a chilled Evian right out of his backpack and to say that he's been thinking of me ever since that letter I wrote to him in 1985 where I said that I was his biggest fan and that we should get together and have lunch sometime in London when he gets a break from his hectic tour schedule; but charmed, nonetheless.

Having done it three times, it's now a habit

For the last week or so I've been sliding into this bizarre routine of swinging by the drive-thru window of Wendy's for a small frosty (I hear it's made of soy, which I don't really believe), stopping the car somewhere (Friday it was in the parking lot of the state tax office) and sharing it with Rosemary.

Then upon entering the house proclaiming, "This is not frosty on her shirt", when it very clearly is just seems to crack me up.

Family camping 101

The family (dog, babe, husband) and I spent three days and two nights at Shades State Park recently with several friends and three campsites to accomodate the pack. This being Rosemary's first camping trip, we spent most of the week prior to the event researching family tents via the internet and local shops.
Our previous tent had been of a small two-person, lightweight backpacking variety, which was perfect for our 60 mile trek though the Washington mountains a few years back. Ready to purchase a new sleeping abode, we confidently strolled into Sportman's Warehouse (there isn't actually a reputable outdoor store here for hiking and the like, to my dismay; but, hey, if you want guns and reloading gear, they'll hook you up) the night before our trip and were ready to shell out the cash for a 4 person tent. After looking around the tent area for several minutes and a few too many uncomfortable glances at photos on the oversized bulletin board of local folk with bloody deer and turkeys in the back of their pick-ups, we noticed that they were out of the smaller sized tent and we were promptly offered the larger one. Some discussion ensued.

"A 6-person tent for two and a half people, and maybe the dog if she hasn't spent too much time in the creekbed smearing the decay of animal carcasses into her hide? Seems a little large to me."

"Come on, we'll grow into it. How big can it be?"

We purchased the tent; and after setting it up at the campsite and having to stand in the poison ivy ten feet away with tent poles that extended to an embarassing length, I'll still say that I very much prefer an air mattress with fitted sheets and room to stand over pumping and filtering a mud puddle for drinking water and pooping behind a tree.

My favorite season

I really can't get enough of summer.

Just when I think it's gonna last all year, I start seeing fall junk in the stores and flowers go on clearance. Shit.

Summer girl