lazy, hazy and certainly crazy

summer may be ending, but the warm memories will stay with me. things like:

the pool bag

remember going to the pool or beach when you were single and/or childless? throw on suit, apply some sunscreen, grab a towel and a drink, and in 5 minutes you were out the door.

today, going to the pool or beach requires only slightly less planning than the invasion of normandy. my bag contains:

• 3 towels
• 3 cover-ups
• 3 sets of waterproof mesh beach shoes
• 3 different types of sunscreen (kryptonite-strength cream for first application, spray for later reaps, and gooey face stick to keep it out of delicate eyes)
• goggles
• pool membership cards
• approximately 1,746 water toys
• giant inflatable floatie rings
• sand buckets and shovels
• beach blanket
• life jackets so the girls can bob "by myself!"
• cell phone (in case of emergencies, and the need to bitch to someone)
• epipens (ditto, except for the bitching)
• band aids for the inevitable falls and scrapes
• snacks, oh so many snacks
• water bottles, with ice cubes, puhlease
• picnic lunch complete with napkins, hand wipes and utensils
• and, if i remember, perhaps a crossword or a trashy magazine at which to sneak the briefest of looks

the awkward beach guy

during one of our recent invasion-of-normandy forays to the beach, we sat near the life guards' chair, where a gaggle of guards gathered throughout the afternoon (too many for duty; i think they were just hanging out together).

non-guard friends also began showing up, including one young man who seated himself next to a bronzed beach beauty and began this exchange:

"hey, brianna."

"hey [seemingly struggling to remember name]...there. how are you?"

"oh, just trying to get a sick tan before i go back to school." (note: he was so white he practically fluoresced.)

"oh."

"yeah, i go to nyu. yeah, i'm going to be graduating this year."

"mmm."

the construsement park

by jove, i think i've got it:

amusement park rides + construction equipment = the hottest new summer entertainment

just think of it: kids (and husbands and grandfathers) would clamor to ride up and down in the bucket of a backhoe, or slide down the rising bed of a dump truck, or spin around in a concrete mixer.

and yes, i had to ask the handsome man the actual names of some of that equipment ("that diggy thing [scooping hand motion]" is not a technical term). you'd think all my years of forced reeducation would have produced some result by now, but no.

addendum, tuesday, august 18: bulldozer bumper cars!