A Long List of Excuses

Well, I’m back from my seaside idyll in Cape May, New Jersey…an idyll in which I intended to blog every day or so in an effort to impart the Victorian nuttiness and maritime mystique of one of my favorite places on any American seaboard.

But as it turns out, the sun, the lull of the waves spilling over, family togetherness, Lali Arlene, and excessive snacking left me with little time or energy for writing. By the middle of the week my to-do list contained such lofty goals as:

3) Purchase and Consume Thunder Dog from Hot Dog Tommy’s

and

4) Sprinkle Talcum Powder Down My Back

Both of which I achieved.

I was going to write about our pathological need to share every experience with others in real time. I was going to say some very scathing things about social media engendering displacement and detachment from the very places we are documenting. I was going to go all soapboxy about public documentation of moments as a form of acquisitiveness and a desperate attempt to ward off death.

Which all sounds good. Blaming our fear of death. But it discounts the fact that the real reason I didn’t blog was laziness. Because I was having a helluva indolent time sitting on the front porch of our rented house on North Street eating homemade ricotta and jam, reading my novel, and watching my mostly naked four-year-old nephew John appear and disappear from various bushes and corners.

Here he is standing stock still in a tree.

Here are sea sponges for sale:

Here are some larger-than-life plastic ice cream cones:

The point is: My point is this: the time to write about adventures is when you are back home. And not surrounded by gopher-like children and salty breezes, and giant ice cream cones, and sea sponges for sale. And your cousin’s homemade ricotta and exotic fruit preserves. And horse-drawn carriages. And sparkly chandeliers. And THE SEA.

Stay tuned for my very super interesting next post about the outlandish Victorians at Congress Hall–what they ate, what they wore, how they avoided sexual titillation on the beach. Yes, we are back to Victorians at the Seashore!

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5 thoughts on “A Long List of Excuses

  1. And let’s thank Gawd that the giant ice cream cones were aptly labeled “Safe-T Cup”, indicating, of course, that if they toppled on top of you, it was for your own safety — thus, no lawsuits could be filed in a court of criminal law in the jurisdiction of which you were located at that present moment! If, in fact, you existed at that very place at that very time! (Hey, it’s “JERSEY” after all…)

  2. I just watched a document about Queen Victoria last night. That lady was certifiably nuts. She seemed to base all of her political decisions on which politician wrote her the prettiest letters and agreed with her that women should stay subordinate. No wonder her subjects wore wacko bathing gear and convict dentures.

  3. Queen Victoria has always given me the creeps. Instinctively.

    And Valerie: Apparently the makers of Safe-T Cup are now out of business…perhaps for that very reason–litigious parents of small children stupidly crushed by giant ice cream cones. I see that they are collector’s items, like you could buy one on e-bay for your mantle.

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