tedwords

Saturday, we went to the family beach house, as is often the case on the fourth.

My sister Kerrie has been quite stressed about it this year, in part due to the heat wave that had hit New England for the past few days. But more, because she was hosting 22 people. Mostly my family, too.

Corb and I made sure that we did our share of the work, because we didn't want Kerrie to be so stressed. It helped, too, that the heat wave was starting to break, and the temperature was a bit lower than the day before. A nice breeze along the water really helped, too.

The crowd was similar to Father's day, although my brother Tommy and his wife Lisa were away in Block Island. His son Jack went, however, along with his girlfriend Emma, and that was nice. We really like Jack and Emma, and I enjoy watching them interact with Theo. They really get along well together, which is sweet.

Tommy being in Block Island did prompt Mom to tell her story about Dad would always go to Block Island and leave her with 4 small kids. This must be a core memory for her, as she tells the story quite a bit. I was amusing Jack by seeing how many times I could get her to tell the same story. Seven was the final count.

Another addition was Dan's family, including his mother and sister. Samantha's boyfriend Bryan went, too. They are all very much theater people, so I enjoy my conversations with them, although Bryan is somewhat on the spectrum and Dan's mother does not say a word about anything.

Josie came to the beach house with Tim. It was kind of awkward, and I don't really think he gets me or Corb. We also suspect he is a bit conservative.

We tried to be as nice as possible, but I think Josie feels a bit uncomfortable, too, and doesn't wish to upset him, which is understandable. But it makes things feel a bit off. Corb said that when we went for a swim, he was alone with Josie and Tim, and she acted like she barely knew him, which hurt his feelings, since they have known each other for 23 years. Kerrie said he shouldn't be hurt, because Josie was there, but the real Josie we all know really wasn't there.

Life changes things. I get it. I did try to be lightly flirtatious with her, because it amuses me that it might upset him a tiny bit. But most of all, I wish only happiness for Josie, and understand that not everyone is going to be as tolerant about our amicable relationship as Andrew was.

Corb also said Tim wasn't aware that Ashes and I had made up and clearly appeared to stop himself from saying anything when Josie told him we made up a few months ago (it was actually about four months ago). That is probably for the best. I still have some anger toward him for saying that I needed to "man up" and make up with her, since it was my duty as a father. He truly, truly does not know what the fuck he is talking about, or the full situation, and has no right to say anything.

But this is not anything we need to ever discuss. I respect his world and feel no need to ever have that conversation.

The big thing is, it was a lovely day, everyone got along well, and the swim was fantastic. I spent a lot of time playing in the water with Kaeden and I think he really appreciated the interaction.

I think my favorite part of the day was at the end, when folks started to leave and Kerrie was able to start relaxing. Corb, Kerrie, Clark and I sat on the deck talking, and it was so nice to see Kerrie stop running around and just enjoy herself. Despite the loud fireworks and the bugs descending, I enjoy the conversations the four of us have. And Clark is a conservative! But we all know what borders not to cross and respect that, and it makes me feel relaxed around him and helps me trust them so much.

One thing Kerrie mentioned: the beach house next door is up for sale. I might honestly have an interest in buying it. I like the idea of have a family compound. Kerrie said she would ask the next door neighbor how much they were looking for.

###

The next day, we went to Scott's house for a cookout. As usual, both Corb and I were dreading it, although to be fair, Corb was dreading the day before, too. Socializing is exhausting.

Despite the usual dread, as usual it wasn't as bad as were expecting. It never is.

We always think Greg is going to say something upsetting, but really, he rarely does, and all in all, Corb's mom was the grouchiest, as is usually the case, because she gets to be so self-pitying. In this case, she is upset at Greg (because she drove over to his job and upset him by asking if he was drinking again) as well as Scott's daughter Jackie (who has an eating problem and lives in a bit of a fantasy world, but Diana was hell bent on talking to her about it and only made things worse by calling her "unattractive.") It made conversations at first a bit awkward.

She is also upset with us, as she elected not to go to the beach house the day before even though we had invited her. It was totally understandable (at 80, the thought of a humid beach house is not a fun prospect), but she was also annoyed we didn't take her antiquing in the morning (we were too tired from the night before.)

Greg was absolutely fine.

As with my family, the gatherings tend to have a pattern. There is light chatter and snacking. Then we dive into dinner. Then Greg, Scott and Corb talk about Greg's lack of belief in the supernatural and we all discuss the afterlife, or what happens next, as basic atheists (save for Scott and Diana. I think.) Then Scott and Greg discuss the Civil War battles, which bore me to tears. Finally, in an effort to bring things back to the broader group, the two discuss how they used to pick on Corb as a child. Which of course Corb always loves (not).

This pattern has been followed for well over a decade. It's as tried and true and Core Memory as my mom discussing Block Island and having gone to four different high schools in four years at every gathering we go to.

One discussion I was a bit appalled by. Scott indicated he has never been, nor had any desire to, visit New York City. He is about 57 years old. His son chimed in to say that New York City is just the same as Boston, so what's the point? All cities are the same.

I was aghast at the ignorance. Actually, I felt kind of sorry for them. How can anyone make a judgement like that without at least having gone so they know what they are talking about?

But this does get down to the essential philosophical difference between Corb and his brother. It's broader than liberal vs conservative. It's small and limited versus broad and expansive. I am so grateful Corb was able to escape that mindset and feel so, so sorry for people who have it.

At the very least, I can be proud that I raised my kids to be broad minded and tolerant. It's a big world out there, and the more you know of it, the better you are.

"That's just the way it is, my man, sometimes you get true love and sometimes you get macaroni salad." — Echo Johnson, Tarantula

Of course, my Friday night martini post SHOULD be about the upcoming 250th tomorrow morning.

Still, I know for many, the thought of celebrating the 250th is a source of some ambivalence, given the decidedly anti-freedom, self-aggrandizing, pro enhancing-his-coffers approach our fearless leader has taken this past year or so of so-called leadership. In fact, for many, the thought of celebrating the 250th is about as popular a thought as the prospect of joining the tens of people who attended the Great American State Fair in our nation’s capital this week.

That may sound irritating to others who would prefer to live with their head in the sand, but as George Orwell once noted, "If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear."

So with that said, tonight, while I will talk about freedom, I will focus instead on the freedom I am feeling in 2026. Because from my personal perspective, I’ve felt a great deal of freedom these past few months, by “freeing” myself back in April from the shackles of the Corporate world. It was not an easy decision to make, because it would have been far easier to keep working and enhancing my own coffers. But back last November, I made the decision I wanted to jump off that carousel and focus on other important things, and I am so, so grateful I had the courage of my convictions to do so and cross that Rubicon, because these past two and a half months have been so, so gratifying. The travel, the reconnections.

And, the rediscovery I’ve been making as I prepare stories for Queer Birds. I love this part especially. Yesterday I spent half a day locating a story about a man named Thor that Corb and I had an apartment next to than 20 years ago, and it was so much fun to locate the story, to revisit the person I was back then. As John Green once observed, "One of the strange things about adulthood is that you are your current self, but you are also all the selves you used to be, the ones you grew out of but can't ever quite get rid of.”

It’s been kind of fun discovering that again. It’s freedom in a different sense. A lot of us ignore those previous selves. But by doing so, you are ignoring how you got to be the person you are today.

So, here’s to convictions, to making plans and sticking to them, to knowing who you are.

And, to one more thing, I think ALL Americans can agree on: to the wonder that is macaroni salad.

Yes, you heard me right. Last week, when we went to dinner with Mama Sue, we ended up talking about macaroni salad, and this vitally important subject has been on my mind all week as a result.

Mama Sue told us a story she once acted out about making macaroni salad for a party she was attending. It sounds like Sue makes a pretty solid macaroni salad, but with this accomplishment comes consequence.

In this case, Sue knew since she had been conscientious enough to make her world-famous macaroni salad a few days before the party, she now had one big hurdle to overcome: making sure her husband Tom didn’t discover said world-famous macaroni salad and help himself to a big helping before it had a chance to travel.

To solve for this, Sue said it was like committing a murder and trying to get away with it.

First, she had to dispose of the evidence. That meant cleaning up all the utensils. Wiping the knife clean, moving it into the dishwasher and back into the drawer. Then, sneaking out the evidence of her crime: the empty macaroni boxes, the mayonnaise jars. The onion skin. Bagging and sealing, sneaking the bloody remains into the garage for trash pick-up. And next, hiding the body. In this case, moving the mac salad into a refrigerator downstairs, where Tom wouldn’t be looking.

It was a dirty job but somehow Sue managed to pull it off. Viola Davis would have been proud.

That story in turn led me to remember my own macaroni salad story. A tale of BAD macaroni salad. Or at least, I played a part in it. Some of my friends may remember this one, even though it happened well over 30 years ago. Back then, I had a gent working for me named Bob (name changed) who was very kind anda super smart math whiz. He had been known to travel to Las Vegas and get kicked out of casinos because he was so good at playing blackjack—he could just discern the order of the numbers. They don’t like that.

But that said, he was a bit forgetful. Just really sweet but would kind of get lost in his own thoughts.

One day I was discussing this fact with a friend of mine. My friend laughed and said, “Tell me about it. Last year, we were holding a big summer party and invited Bob to it. He told us he would be bringing macaroni salad, and honestly, no one expected him to remember that. But the day came for the party, and wouldn’t you know, there was old Bob with a big container of macaroni salad.

“I was impressed,” my friend continued. “And I went up to him, and said, Bob, wow! I didn’t think you’d remember to bring the macaroni salad.

Bob just looked up at her and smiled. ‘I was afraid I would forget, too!’ he replied. ‘So, I made it about a week ago and kept it in the back of my car all this past week so I wouldn’t forget to bring it with me.”

Funny thing. That macaroni salad somehow never made it to the table that day.

So tonight, I raise a cool razz martini and toast to the freeing taste of the beloved macaroni salad. Good or bad, I am sure that most of us will be having some at some point this week end.

And, to having more things for all of us to agree upon. At least, at some point, someday. May we all look upon that moment with the anticipation of being invited to Taylor Swift's wedding.

Cheers, my friends. As always, I raise a cup to my friends, and to all the awesome members of the Friday night Martini club! And love you, mom and pop! You truly mean the world to us.

For today's story, I am going to intersperse photos from our recent trip to Salem on Sunday, and a lovely garden behind a building known as the Ropes mansion that we wandered into after having dinner in the city. The garden was absolutely charming. Fun film note: the Ropes Mansion was featured in the 1993 Disney film Hocus Pocus where one of the main characters named Allison lives. It has since been nicknamed "Alison's House" by fans of the film. I didn't know this fact until today.

Given the expected heat wave taking place later in the week, which will involve two days of over 100-degree weather (note: Europe is not impressed), we decided to make today one of our shop days. We are actually taking it a bit easier this week than we usually do, and focusing on the

The first order of business was to head over to the Norwood location, where Corb has been emptying one section we call the Gallery for about two months now. Brittany gave up one of her stores recently, and the Gallery is a hallway connecting Shiplap to the now-closed location. Although not technically store space but more of a corridor, Brit had asked Corb to spruce it up and he had transformed it into a lighting and art gallery. But that was a few years ago, and with the Furniture Store closing down, Corb and I have been moving the items out and relocating them throughout the other three locations.

Today we were determined to wrap the move up, and with the effort would come a nice reward: located in within the Furniture Store was a heavy stone floating waterfall, valued at well over a thousand dollars. Brit said she would give to us for free, if we could get it off the wall and move it out of the store, to spare her the time and effort. Did I mention she said it was heavy as hell? Be that as it may, we've been sprucing up our backyard pool area and decided it would look just perfect there.

So, off we went, and once we arrived at the store, as is wont to be the case, once Corb had positioned a ladder by the stone and arranged all of his tools, he moved a hand to his chin and frowned. "Hmmm," he said.

Attuned as I am to his every noise after more than twenty years of experience, I knew this meant he had encountered a roadblock. "What is it?" I asked.

"We're going to need to get a hex nut driver," he replied. "I need to loosen up the bottom of this, and it's not going to be easy without one."

So, off to the local hardware store we went. And twenty minutes and fifty dollars later, we were back at Shiplap, driving down to park our car.

"Hmmm," he said again.

I knew what the complaint was this time. Parking is always at a premium at Shiplap, and although the spaces are intended to be either for customers or handicapped folks, the sad truth is that most spaces are claimed by the vendors who work there, forcing everyone else to park at a larger parking space at the very end of the building. With the prospect of having to lug a stone slab weighing more than 100 pounds back to the car, Corb was clearly looking to park as close to the front of the store as possible.

Such was not to be the case today, as the front of the store was occupied by a white van that was parked perpendicular to the store, taking up about three spaces. Outside the van was a lady in her forties, who was looking rather flustered and carrying a large cabinet.

Le sigh. Down the drive we went, ending up at the very end of the lot and then trudging back to enter the store. As we arrived, we encountered the frazzled lady, a bit closer to the entrance and now with two chairs. She looked decidedly grumpy.

"Hi there," said Corb. The lady looked at him, shooting daggers, with a slight snarl on her face.

Okay, fine. The two of us entered the building and I punched in the key code to Shiplap.

I looked behind me, at the snarling lady. "Should I hold the door open for her?" I asked.

"We don't know that she is a vendor here," he replied. "She could be at one of the other shops."

Fair enough. I closed the door and we headed back to the Furniture store, which was in the process of being reconverted into a series of offices. The workers had returned from lunch and the place was quite a bit noisier than it had been before we left.

Corb stared at the heavy stone waterfall. "Hmm," he said.

This one I could not decipher. "What's the problem?"

"I'm just worried about how we are going to get the stone off the French cleat," he replied. "It's at least 100 pounds and once it's off the cleat, I am afraid about the two of us moving it safely to the floor."

"Oh!" He meant me. I am not a great heavy lifter. I am good at many things, but heavy lifting is not one of them. My eyes to look around the room, at the men who were busily working on office space.

One handsome Portuguese dude caught my eye. I stared at him until he responded. "May I help you?" he asked, pleasantly.

"Would you be able to help us for a moment?" I asked, trying to sound my sweetest. "We need to get this stone of the wall and I am not the greatest help on account of the fact that I'm...old."

He laughed and nodded his head. "Sure," he replied.

Corb and him were able to lift it and move it down in about five seconds. After dutifully thanking him, we started on to our next order of business: moving it to the car. "There's a dolly in the Gallery," Corb said. "It's not huge but we should be able to move it more easily with that."

Now it was my turn. Dutifully, I headed back to the Gallery to retrieve the dolly. As I did, I passed the door that led into Shiplap. Right outside it was the glaring woman, still holding her two chairs. Oh! Clearly, she did have a space at the shop. In fact, I had mentioned to Corb that I liked her taste in furniture as we were entering the gallery.

She saw me but lowered her eyes the minute I passed. I ignored her and moved to clear the space to gain access to the dolly. I lifted it, went back to Corb, and we started to push the heavy stone toward the Gallery.

Once we arrived back, I looked at Corb. "You think you should move our car closer now?" I asked. "I don't think we really want to push this all the way to the end of the warehouse."

"You coming with me?" he asked.

"I'll stay here and guard the waterfall," I replied.

While he was away and I was waiting, I heard some noise outside the Shiplap door. Muttered conversation. Suddenly, an older lady with a smiling face poked her head into the hallway. "Hey there!" she said. "Is there a dolly in this hallway?"

"There is!" I replied, trying to match her cheeriness. "Corb's using it to move a heavy stone. But it'll be free once he's moved it to the car."

She nodded. "No worries," she replied. "Just curious."

I nodded and she went back into Shiplap. I heard some additional conversation. Then Corb returned and we got to work removing the remaining lighting fixtures in the Gallery.

Once we were done, we started pushing the stone out with the dolly. It was tough going, as the path to the parking lot was windy and the dolly was in danger of falling into the grass.

The older lady was standing outside Shiplap, and ran over the minute she saw us. "Corb, are there any other dollies around?" she asked.

"There should be," Corb replied.

"Too bad you can't use that like a skateboard," she joked. We smiled, weakly.

Five minutes later, the waterfall was safely loaded. We headed back into the Gallery. "Think we should offer the grouchy lady the dolly?" I whispered to Corb. He nodded.

I entered Shiplap. She was at her space and looked at me warily as I entered. "Hey there!" I said, trying to be cheerful. "Did you need to use the dolly? We're all done."

She looked at me as if I had committed a mortal sin. "That's okay," she said, clearly unhappy with me. "I got through it."

I was not taking the bait. "Okay!" I said, as if it aint no thing, and exited.

"That lady was not happy with us using the dolly," I said to Corb, as we drove home.

"She was angry from the moment she saw us," he replied. "I think she was offended we didn't drop everything and help her move her furniture in."

"And maybe that I didn't hold the door open for her?"

"But how were we to know she worked there?" he replied. "She didn't introduce us or anything. I only realized she was a new vendor when I saw her near the Gallery."

This was a good point, and one we talked a lot about on the ride home. It was almost as if this lady was angry with us from the moment she saw us, or at the very least stressed about what she had to bring to the store. But that's rule number one when it comes to retail: make sure you have the resources you need, and if you don't, reach out for help.

Corb knew he was going to need help with the waterfall today, which is why I went. When we realized it was a heavier job than I could handle, we nicely asked a worker there to help us.

This lady didn't even introduce herself. We had no idea who she was or what she was doing. She expected us to read her mind and was angry with us when we didn't drop everything to help us with her task. And, angry when we didn't just hand her the dolly right away and clearly complained about it to the older lady in the store (who Corb has a really good relationship with).

In my mind? That suggests to me a retail person who probably won't be selling at the store a year from now. She clearly has the talent, but her attitude is a bit lacking. Half of the game in retail is not what you make, but how you present yourself. It's kind of like PR in a way...it's not just about the product. It's about the presentation.

The truth is, no one should be expected to be able to know what you want, unless you are able to give voice to it. That's just the way the world works. Note: this is not saying don't help people. It just means, you need to speak up nicely and represent what you need. People cannot anticipate your needs without being asked.

What's the worst they can say? As author Nora Roberts once noted, if you don't ask, the answer is always no.

"There is no passion to be found in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living." — Nelson Mandela

Friday night martini club with Mama Sue. One world traveler to another. We are raising a toast to a dear friend who received some encouraging news today.

Sue returned from Scotland about a week before we headed out for Paris. This is our first moment to catch up.

I think we both agree, if travel offers nothing else, it gives you a broader perspective. I have been continuing looking back on my early college journal entries this week, and this is by and far the biggest thing I notice. My world was so limited back then! Travel, coming to terms with who I really am and what really matters in my life, and a dedication to hedonism has made a world of difference.

This has been a big writing week for me. I finished a rough draft of the Elton John project I am working on for the Singers, as well as started mapping out my next big writing project, which came to me on our long flight to Paris. I'm calling the book Queer Birds, based on a painting of Corb's I love, and it's part of the reason I am working on my digital diary project. It will be mostly Corb, part Josie, and part what came before. Shake well.

And, stories. Which is why we love to get together with Mama Sue. Stories, always.

So tonight, I raise a blueberry lemon drop martini and toast to Queer Birds, to martinis, and to the art of the story. And to the end of pollen. This persistent allergy cough is driving me crazy!

Cheers, my friends. As always, I raise a cup to all the awesome members of the Friday night Martini club! And love you, mom and pop! You truly mean the world to us. Have a great weekend, everyone.

***

The rest of the week: This week really felt like what I think the rest of my life will feel like, when we aren't traveling. I was really on a roll with my writing, and we also devoted a lot of time to the business. Wednesday we traveled to Worcester to pick up some lamps and make purchases at some shops, and Thursday we spent time at all three stores, but mainly Shiplap, to weigh and measure all the chandeliers so we can upload the dimensions on to Etsy. It was time well spent, and always fun to work while the stores are open to get reactions from folks. There were two lovely ladies at Simply who were going on and on about Corb's space.

It's been a slow sales month, due to the World Cup taking place in Foxboro. The whole world is watching. But not buying merch.

We also attended the Eldredge Players annual elections. I agreed to serve as artistic director again, although Melissa joined on the board, and I feel like that gives me a chance to train someone to take over in the future. Which is a relief. Also, Rachel is not on the board, so no drunken texts at all hours of the night, which really did stress me out.

Friday I met with her husband Ted and we had a very efficient meeting budgeting for the Elton show. I do enjoy working with him.

A lot of yard work was done as well. I cleared a ton of bamboo and knotweed, as well as some bittersweet, and the pool is almost officially open. There are a few trees in the backyard that need to be removed and we are having them priced and spoke with our neighbor about allowing a lift to go into his yard to remove them. That, frankly, was the most stressful part of the process. I am not good about talking with neighbors. Especially to ask for favors.

Thursday night we saw the Supergirl movie. Both enjoyed it. Corb says he just likes these sorts of movies when they have female leads. The male lead movies bore him to tears.

Back to working on the pool. It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

The morning after our return from Barcelona, I woke up after the most vivid dream.

I’m sure the reason for the dream had something to do with the time-stressful circumstances my body was enduring: going to bed at what was purported to be midnight when just 24 hours before it would have been six in the morning…and then, waking up at what was purported to be six in the morning when my body felt like it was noon.

Perhaps no surprise, then, the vivid dream I had involved defining the parameters of time. At least, from the perspective of the fragile fleshy bodies we both blessed and cursed with.

In my dream, I was sitting at an easel, mapping this out as if I were a cartoonist. And fully aware that it bore some connections to crucial passages in A Wrinkle in Time. Only, my dream moved things in a slightly different direction, in a manner that only pertains to a human’s limited perspective, not the broader world of time in general.

DIMENSION ONE

In my dream, I looked at the process of time and aging. As you age, of course, you have a linear, frontal perspective, limited (but from our perspective, seemingly unlimited) by a finite flow of days. Every day, every hour, every second, we walk through a series of hypothetical doors constantly. We choose door A, we choose Door B. The world unfolds. This is called the present. Everything we live in is the present. Hence the saying, every day is a gift, because you don't know how many you will receive.

Unless you believe in reincarnation. Which I do.

SQUARING THE PRESENT

But if all we can see is front forward, that suggests there is by necessity also a longitudinal view—what has come before. This brings one greater depth and meaning as one ages but can also be a help—or a hindrance.

This is a most decidedly shaky camera, as most of us rely on memory, or nowadays, prior Facebook posts. This perspective also tends to be rather skin deep, unless the memory was especially vivid.

This deeper view can be enhanced, however, through photos and videos and exponentially if you happen to journal. Which I do.

CREATING THE CUBE

In my dream, I posited you can break across these dimensions—cross the latitude and longitude, by reaching back to the past to reconnect with a certain location, event or person. This crossing, however, is subject to a variety of limitations—most notably, the passage of time and mortality.

But it can have a powerful impact. I remember when I first met up with some friends from high school after ten years, back in my thirties, and realized how familiar everyone look, although slightly distorted, like a warped photograph.

I also thought it could be impacted by any strong links you may have made to a location. I remember establishing a "grounding cord" when I visited Edinburgh in my twenties and have done that at many other locations throughout my life. I do this by laying down and imagining you are creating an unbreakable golden cord burrowing deep into the ground that forever connects a part of you spiritually to that place.

CUBING THE CUBE

As my fever dream started to fade, I realized that there was a fourth dimension to this, by harnessing potential timelines. This is a bit more difficult to achieve but is achievable if one thinks through the many different possibilities (what might have been) combined with different dream recurrences (what could have been that you dream of 20 years ago) and the strengths of connections you helped create...or, conversely, break.

AND AFTER THAT?

There may be a cubed dimension to even that, but unfortunately, a) I woke up from my dream at that point and b) I am nowhere near smart enough to figure that out.

Of course, after waking up from this strange dream, I immediately had to jump out of bed to scribble it down, before I forgot. It's been sitting there on my drawing board every since. Reminding me. Taunting me.

And then, I had to head back to bed, to try and wring out a few more minutes of sleep.

Corb looked like he was waking up, so I forced him to listen to my theory.

Corb told me this was an awful lot of information to try and understand at six in the morning.

Sigh. He is probably correct. It may be a lot to try and understand no matter what the hour.

But now, it's in your head, too.

For as long as I can remember, Father's day has followed a similar pattern: we travel to my parent's beach house in Westport as a family, some of us eat a lot of lobster, and all of us enjoy the day and the company. It's all quite lovely.

These days, my sister Kerrie and her husband Clark own the beach house and take care of the festivities, and Mom and Dad kind of sit back and enjoy the day. Back when my parents first purchased the place from Cathy's parents forty years ago, the took charge of the festivities, and Cathy's mother and father started to take a back seat. This beach house is like our family's version of Thorton Wilder's The Long Christmas Dinner. So much tradition.

We got there at one, after scrambling in the morning to get Father's day presents. This year, when I arrived, Dad wanted to get his walking count in and made it a point to have separate walks with me, Kerrie and Tommy, all solo. We walked from the beach house to the end of the road and back. Nothing particularly revelatory, just your typical mundane conversation. We talked about our European vacation.

On my end, all my kids were there, along with Corb. Tommy brought his brood, too. A family recap follows:

Annie is looking great these days, having lost so much weight and with her hair in a colorful short bob. Kaeden, her son, is now 14 and seems to have suddenly become a teenager but still does a lot of kid-like things, like perpetually wants to play tag.

Ashes was there with Dan, and this was really the first family get together with her there since the BIG FIGHT. It was awkward at first, but it's just a matter of pulling the band aid. She seemed to relax, and then Dan did. She was talking about coming to the 4th, so things are looking fine.

Theo brought McKenzie with them. Theo and McK have been best friends since childhood, and sometimes I worry that it is hard for Theo to find someone because of this. McK is headed off to Estonia to reunite with their wife in about a month, however, and Theo has a somewhat virtual relationship going on, right now, with someone else. I am hoping he finds happiness.

Mom and Dad were both in good sorts. Mom's memory felt a bit worse today, especially as we played Pay Me. When we played last summer, she had trouble remembering what cards were wild each hand but could at least remember that twos and wild cards were. This time she had to be reminded about that, too. Kerrie said that Dad was just as bad.

Tommy we were worried about, as Kerrie said he is off his meds and was a bit grouchy. However, he and I got along well. He even apologized again for being grouchy to me last summer. Said he was off his meds for that, too.

He and Lisa have put their house up in Plymouth up for sale, and plan to live full time in Florida. He says his neighbors in Florida are all right wing and have found Jesus, but he stays on pleasant terms with all of them and they don't bother him that much.

His son Jack just graduated from college and already has a big paying job. His stepsons, Cam and Trevor, were also there. They don't talk to us much. Trevor lives in New York and loves to travel but does so because his mother has rigged the system and takes in money from his Aspergers diagnosis despite clearly being high functioning. It causes others in the family some stress, especially as he is a bit of a show-off. He is gay and somewhat right wing. I don't get it. His brother Cam kind of lives in his shadow.

The day typically consists of: getting there, socializing. A swim in the afternoon for some (I didn't this year). A game of Pay Me, followed by lobster fest. Possibly more Pay Me afterwards, but lately my parents get tired at this point (as does Tommy) and it's a quick dessert and then goodbyes.

My family stayed the longest this year. We always do. Kerrie and I promised to get together soon.

The place is in some need of repair. You can't really use the bathroom anymore, and boys must pee in the outhouse.

Still, I have loved this house for 40 years, since Josie and I were young and in love and we would come over with Annie, who was maybe two and playing in the sand with her bucket and shovel.

This is one tradition I never want to see end.

No photo description available.
May be an image of twilight and lake

The past two days have been very busy. I think, though, that I will have to stop saying that, because I have yet to encounter a day in retirement that hasn't been packed.

Wednesday morning we met with a lovely lady named Carolyn Tibbert, who had been helpful with Corb's mom when it came to handling Jim's insane daughter who wanted her booted out of their condo the week after Jim passed away. It's been four years since we last saw her, and it's sad that Corb's mom has yet to resolve the estate, due to that horrible woman.

Carolyn is helping us with our will and estate planning. It's time to finally do that. It is crazy to me that I spent years doing interviews with folks about the importance of estate planning and yet never actually took the time to get it done for myself. Now, we are getting it done.

After that, a ton of yard work around the pool, which we are starting to open up.

I also posted a few 1983 entries onto DW, and I am kind of debating the wisdom of doing so. Part of me really wants to do it so I have my whole life in front of me, digitally accessible. It makes for a great reference tool. Also, I am finding many behaviors that help me better understand my kids. For example, this entry:

"It was not to be. When I arrived home I was yelled at by my parents and almost didn't get to go out with Joyce. But I staged a real temper tantrum and walked out of the house. Mom was wicked pissed when Dad let me have the car, claiming "the baby got his way."

When I read that, I messaged Josie and said, "Who does that sound like?" And she immediately said: "Ashes." And then I said, "Who does my dad sound like?" and she said "You!" And then she asked, "Who does your mom sound like?" And we laughed.

I guess we all kind of repeat family patterns. We're just living in different timelines.

So this is helpful, but there is another part of me that worries that by doing so, I am reliving past hurts and maybe opening up old wounds that I've been able to heal through the passage of time and finding ways to "talk back." In addition to the Ashes story, I also read a story about Steven's birthday that was really sweet, but two days later, there was yet another entry about how sad and depressed I was and I hated the person I had become. This was the third entry like that, although at least it didn't mention suicide.

As I recall, it took me quite a bit of work to learn to talk back to that really negative voice that was eating away at me and making me so unhappy. A lot of it was accepting who I was, and I am so grateful to Josie and cognitive therapy for helping me grow and mature. And therapy, a decade later.

I don't want to fall back, though, and while I know I won't, I will say that reading the entries--and typing them up, which reinforces what is being stated--then has echoes within me. It's like reawakening a sleeping beast.

From what I have read, there can be a danger to reliving past traumatic events by revisiting your journal entries. You have to have the right frame of mind to do so. I plan to tread cautiously, because as I said, I do see value, especially for my Queer Birds project.

***

Thursday morning, we went to Shiplap for a thorough cleaning of the store, which we haven't done since the European vacation. The stores are not selling a ton right now, as a result of the summer and also the World Cup events taking place in Foxboro. It's a good time to move things around, so I switched up a lot of my books, replacing Nancy Drew for Tom Swift in the main area. Selling my books isn't the big priority at the stores, the lighting is, naturally, but I look at what I add as window dressing. Plus, it's fun!

That night, I went headed to Boston to meet some former Fidelity friends for the retirement party for my friend Jonathan. Jonathan was basically given the ultimatum--the day after my retirement party--to either retire or find another job within Fidelity. He decided to retire but made it clear to everyone that it wasn't his choice; his job was being eliminated.

This is part of why I am happy I made the decision to leave rather than be asked to leave. It gave me the control.

His boss was at the party, and he is a huge d...windbag. Tried to ask "insightful" questions to Jonathan's wife about what he is like, and she could barely stand to answer them. He tried to give her a hug as we were leaving and she blocked him before he could. I almost had to sit next to him around the table and frantically found ways to avoid such a fate.

After the drinks for Jonathan, I went with my friends Kim and Jen and his family out to Smith & Wolenskys for a quick bite. Getting a quick bite at such a busy location on a Thursday night was practically an impossibility. Kim and I were able to negotiate a Caesar salad with jumbo shrimp. Which is a relatively healthy option.

Huge hugs and promises to reconnect followed. I would love that, as I find JA's wife charming. Both have a love of the musical Chess, and I adore that.

Kim and I then took the train back home. With the Cups going on, there were a number of Scottish men in kilts and a lot of drunken conversation.

I have had a recurring dry summer cough for the past two days, and it started to get really bad during the dinner and especially on the train ride home. When I started coughing in the train with Kim, at one point, my chest really started to burn and it made me a bit anxious. When I got into the car, the first thing I did was take cough medicine. I also took my BP when I got home and it was quite high, but that may have been because of the cough meds plus the fact that I was freaking myself out.

The next morning, my cough has disappeared, after a good night's sleep. I checked my BP and it was down significantly. I think part of this is that it will be four years on Saturday since I had my HA. What I learned yesterday? That's the same day as my wedding anniversary to Josie.

I'd rather remember the wedding anniversary, but perhaps there is some irony here.

"I thought we all were children of God."

The day after our return home was kind of a blur. I remember jet lag hitting us big time, and waking up at around six, even though we had gone to bed at midnight. Couldn't sleep. We were still in that weird middle phase between Eastern Time and Barcelona Time.

After that, the weekend was upon us, and it was basically all Hunchback for the second weekend of the Eldredge Players production of Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Three shows. We attended the first, just the two of us, to see what the show was like. The second day, we spent the day with Corb's mom and then took her to see it at night. And the third, a matinee, we helped with the house and also with set destruction.

It was absolutely phenomenal. The director we selected knew his stuff and executed the show to perfection. I heard so many people say it was the best show they have ever seen the Eldredge Players do, including Corb (half joking. I think?)

Since this is my journal, I can write about how that impacts me, having directed for the group for twenty years, more or less consecutively. It's only the last two years I haven't directed but instead headed up the selection committee to pick the director, and also serve as a producer, to help select the main production folks for the shows.

And how I feel? Very happy, frankly. First of all, I haven't had any interest in directing the big June productions for a few years now, and secondly, I wanted to focus more about the April retirement and then our big retirement trip in May. Directing was absolutely the last thing I wanted to do.

But also? I am really happy that the group is did such an amazing job this time. It's not all about me--it's about the group learning and growing and expanding and getting better and perfecting each and every time. And I feel comfortable that I contributed by picking someone so capable to handle what is a difficult task even though I was going to be away for the last two weeks before the show opened and also making sure that really capable people were there to assist him, to ensure that the play was successful. I am in particular thinking about Melissa and Tina. I also did some great work with the PR and Corb and I built several of the set pieces.

The other thing I like is that I can be more myself when I go to the performances. With the heat off and no need for me to be "on" (although I still do to a certain extent, as artistic director), I can be a bit more relaxed and not feel the need to make everyone like me. That was such a concern for so many years.

This year, not so much.

During auditions, I felt no apprehension about giving it right back to a really needy older man who has complained to me for the past twenty years when something didn't go the way he wanted it to. This time, when he wrote to me to complain that he wasn't cast and that the group "discriminates against 70 year old white men," I quickly wrote back to point out I was not directing the show and he should take it up with the director, and that he really wasn't a friend of mine, just someone who liked to complain to me whenever things didn't go his way. And to please stop doing that. Oh, and since he was a councilman, he no longer had the privilege of putting his election posters up on my front lawn (this past fall although I had begged and pleaded for him to be in our 80th no less than 4 times, he said he would only try out if the director drove to his house to audition privately. And then complained that we discriminated against 70 year old white guys when the director wouldn't. That broke it for me. This time around, he refused to let the music director play for his audition but insisted his wife play. It's ridiculous. It was high time to push back.)

Or, when I saw someone from a nearby theater company who routinely treats me with a bit of disdain (including one evening I will never forget where he and two other folks absolutely treated me and Corb like second class citizens while eating dinner with us), I felt no need to kiss his butt. "Oh, hi XXX," was all he was going to get from me.

I focused on loving the people I loved and not worrying about the other folks. I told people I loved them freely, I laughed with the people who make me laugh, and I just tried to enjoy things more. I avoided the bloviators who only want to hear themselves talk. It made life a bit easier, not having to worry about being "seen."

I think that is a good way to approach life.

Yesterday was a huge day outside, starting to clean up the backyard now that we are back from vacation and no longer have any excuse. And, we started the process of opening up the pool.

Weighed myself this morning. I am down ten pounds since retirement day. That makes me feel good.

Okay, back to the outside.

All good things must come to an end at some point. I guess.

With the Pope's blessing creating quite a frenzy in Barcelona, we chose for our final 24 hours at a place we now loved to be a low-key sort of day. We decided to have one last breakfast at the almost-like-a-pâtisserie next to the hotel and then use the spa accommodations to chill out before heading for our flight in the afternoon.

We chose a very nice couple's massage for an hour and then used the day spa, particularly the pool, although I was more adventurous than Corb and also used the sauna. We were the only ones in the whole place, and it was a little eerie.

With so much going on in Barcelona, we decided to head off to the airport and gave ourselves plenty of time. We were three hours early, so after checking in, we treated ourselves to some food. As it turned out, after eating, it was time to board, so we timed everything perfectly.

And then, the long ride home.

We arrived in Boston at midnight. In our minds, of course, it was six a.m. We were unable to sleep at all on the flight home.

Needless to say, we slept soundly that night!

That night, I had a very strange dream about time and dimensions. I woke up and had to graph it out. This trip has been exciting and tiring and also has fed the creative bug in me. I am hoping to leverage that in the months to come.

“Barcelona is a very old city in which you can feel the weight of history; it is haunted by history. You cannot walk around it without perceiving it.” - Carlos Ruiz Zafon

This was our last full day in Barcelona. We took a gondola ride and spent a lot of time this morning at the beach, people watching, and eating pizza with strong mojitos.

First off, we made the trek to the gondola. The path was only two blocks from our house, meaning the spa we were at was ideal because we had easy access to the beach as well as easy access to the center of Barcelona. Oh, and a spa...tomorrow we are getting massages before we head off.

The view from the gondola reminded us of our sweaty trek to the cruise ship the second day in Barcelona. Imagine starting here in heat wave weather with four suitcases...

We made our way to the beaches, which are clothing optional. We kept our clothes on. After walking around for a bit, we sat down, had some pizza and mojitos, and people watched for a few hours.

When we were ready, more walking. The foliage is just incredible.

The Pope arrived in Barcelona this afternoon so there were a lot of crowds and pope spotting. We missed his limo twice by mere seconds. This pope was quite a slippery fellow. He did a blessing for all of Barcelona so I am counting us in that mix.

At the end of the day, one final meal in a beautiful restaurant. Tonight we ate at My Way. What a great choice. It had a 50s vibe, with lamps shaped like martini glasses. Dinner was superb. I had tuna, Corb had steak.

And, have to mention this...the bill for this meal? For four glasses of wine, for two tapas, for two main meals, two desserts and espresso? 96 euros, tip included (in Europe they ACTUALLY PAY A LIVING WAGE to waiters so you don't tip unless the service is exceptional). This is the impact of Trump's inflation. Compare what we got and the quality to...I don't care, Brack's? Cibo Matto? Even at an exchange rate of 1.2 (Trump's idiotic policies have made the Euro stronger than the dollar), there is no way you would pay 110 dollars for all that. You'd probably pay twice that amount. Give me Europe any day of the week. Okay, lecture over.

And then back through our favorite plaza one last time. Where our love for Barcelona began. We are going to miss this place so much. But, I suspect we will be back soon.

“I went to have a look at the cathedral, a modern cathedral, and one of the most hideous buildings in the world.” George Orwell

On Monday, I didn't take as many pictures, but we ended up walking 27,000 steps, which was our highest since Paris.

We started the morning, at a friend's suggestion, eating at the Brunch and Cake, which he said had an interesting take on breakfast. He is correct, it is what the marketing hype described, "an award-winning, all-day dining destination known for iconic locations, stunning interiors, wholesome dishes, and generous portions – designed to delight." Still, it seemed almost designed to be the toast of Instagrammers (we saw so many people posting while having breakfast), so that it almost had an artificialness to it. We didn't say that to my friend, though.

Of course, we did take in some Gaudi. It is impossible not to. Including, that place the Pope was going to be visiting in a few days. It was beautiful.

Then we walked to a huge open air flea market. Not as much good stuff as in Paris, but fun to walk through and they love haggling. We did end up picking up something small. After haggling.

Corb surprised me by bringing me to George Orwell plaza. George Orwell is a favorite author and I make it a point to read a book by him each trip we take. I know everyone knows him from 1984 but the dude was really into exposing poverty in England and France and would actually live life in impoverishment to get a true feel for what life among the folks at the lowest rungs of society is like.

The book I am reading this trip is The Road to Wigan Pier. In it, Orwell attempts to explain why the very poor, who would most benefit from Socialism, are inclined to despise the concept. I am interested in seeing if his thoughts in 1935 correspond to the average MAGA supporter. That's in Part Two (which his publisher disliked and felt obligated to publish a preface for pointing this out.)

There is an expressionist statue built for Orwell. It is ugly as sin.

Another perk: Orwell plaza had a fantastic Greek Tapas joint with great spanikopitah. And Pina Colatas. We were a bit tipsy.

And at night, we ate in style at Los Catacoles. Established in 1835, Restaurante Los Caracoles (Casa Bofarull) is one of Barcelona's oldest and most iconic dining institutions. Located in the Gothic Quarter at Carrer Escudellers 14, it is famous for its namesake snails in rich sauce, roasted meats, and traditional Catalan cuisine.

They kind of like their snails. We didn't order snails. Corb had the chicken as it roasts outside the restaurant as you enter. I had an amazing seafood paella. The prawns were to die for.

The head waiter, who was lovely, was dissatisfied with the chicken that Corb had ordered and chewed out the cook while we were eating. He felt it was too salty and almost didn't let Corb eat it. Since all Corb had been dreaming about that day had been that chicken, he said he would take the chance, especially since a gent sitting next to us tried it and said it was just fine. Indeed, it was.

All in all, a very foody day in Barcelona. You would think we have been packing on the pounds. I was very nervous about this when I got home. In fact, owing to all the walking we did this trip, my weight stayed exactly the same. PS: I still need to lose weight.

"Barcelona, archives of courtesy, shelter of the foreigners... in site, and in beauty, unique." Miguel de Cervantes

Back to Barcelona for four days. The first day off the ship was a very sad day for us. We really have loved this cruise and this trip so much.

And just as a small contrast, I should compare this cruise to the one we had the year before, to the Southern Caribbean, which headed out from Miami. That was a smaller ship, and the vibe was so much different. We had so many encounters with right wing MAGA idiots on that cruise and it made us uncomfortable to actually talk to some folks, just thinking they may have that mentality.

None of that on this cruise. Not even a whiff. Everyone was so welcoming and accommodating, even Clare, our companion on the Pompeii tour, who was quite Southern. I think the fact that we were on a large ship, not one of the smaller ones, coupled with the fact that we were leaving from Barcelona, helped immensely. There were many Americans on this cruise, and many Southerners (you cannot miss that accent), but not a whiff of homophobia.

We've already booked our next cruise--or our next European cruise. It will be on the newest ship for RC, the third Icon Class ship, Legend of the Seas, and will be a 14-day trans-Atlantic cruise from Ft. Lauderdale to Barcelona. We have always wanted to try a trans-Atlantic cruise, and coupled with a new ship and going back to a place we love, we cannot wait. We are thinking for Barcelona we can then take a train back to Paris or London, so this may end up being a three week vacation.

The world is our oyster. Now we just have to figure out how to tell this to Corb's mom. We are thinking of avoiding the subject until she brings it up. Which she will.

Anyway, we headed from the port to our hotel in Barcelon, a lovely place called Grum's Hotel & Spa, that is central to the historical areas as well as an easy connect to the beaches, by gondola.

This is a photo of our balcony. It was lovely although there was so much construction going on in Barcelona due in part to the Pope visiting to bless the Sargrada Familia, and our pergola roofing was a bit wonky and would roll back after five minutes. Even so, although we did log in 15,000 steps the first day, we did spend quite a bit of time reading in these seats. Warning: they are comfortable but hard to get out of.

There is so much and architecture in Barcelona. So many photos to take. Here's the Aduana de Barcelona, a historic neoclassical customs building located at Port Vell.

The streets remind me a bit of Venice, which I absolutely love. So many windy alleys opening up to something else that is cool. Even though you do walk through certain sections that smell like pee or even worse, I think that is an acceptable sacrifice.

We had lunch at Ocana, located in Barcelona Square. This is where our drag queens hung the first day we were there.

Miss Lily was our drink of choice today. Miss Lily was strong! And our lunch was divine. That cheese in the center was to die for. The Russian salad was basically potato salad with tuna, capers, carrots and onions, but you couldn't tell. And of course, while eating, we spent our time people watching on the Square.

Then, more adventuring. Here's the Basílica de Santa Maria del Pi, a renowned 14th-century Catalan Gothic church located in the heart of Barcelona's Gothic Quarter.

Our entertainment for the evening was at the Palau de la Música Catalana, a concert hall designed in the Catalan modernista style by the architect Lluís Domènech i Montaner. It was built between 1905 and 1908 for Orfeó Català, a choral society founded in 1891 that was a leading force in the Catalan cultural movement that came to be known as the Renaixença (Catalan Rebirth). You know, the Barcelona version of the Norton Singers. This space was a maximalist dream come true. Every inch was covered in beauty.

We watched Gran Gala Flamenco, which was fantastic. At almost two hours, we certainly got our money's worth.
After that dinner. There is nothing more romantic to me than a European alley in the middle of the night. And usually so much safer than American streets. We watched Gran Gala Flamenco, which was fantastic. At almost two hours, we certainly got our money's worth.

We wandered and ending up eating at a new location, the T Born Brasa. I had the tomato barrassa, along with the Sirloin steak paella. It was great food and the head waiter not only let us go in after the cutoff (we arrived at 11:15) but gave us complimentary shots at the end of the dinner. They are a new business and wanted the word to spread. We would definitely go back!

Another day done. Even though we were sad about the end of the cruise, this lovely day helped to dull the pain.

A lovely cruise day.

Corb posted this picture, however, so it is clear that he is missing a certain furry someone.

"To the one defecating here. Beware of the curse..." Ancient Pompeian graffiti

Today, we made three stops: Positano, Sorrento and Pompeii.

Corb was excited to visit Positano, because it's prominently featured in one of his favorite movies. In fact, he was expecting it to be his favorite spot to see, even though we were going to Pompeii. However, that was before he realized how huge Pompeii was! He was expecting a small museum with some buildings, when in fact it's an entire city, which really blew his mind.

One thing I will say, Vesuvius really did loom over everything we did today. You could see it on our way to our locations, especially when we reached Pompeii. Our excursion started at seven, which was our earliest, and frankly, after so many early days and an average of 17,000 steps walked each day, we are started to get tired! But in the best way possible, I think.

Our first stop was Positano. This was a super windy trip, and we found our little bus weaving around the windy roads leading up and around. It was somewhat dizzying and reminded me of St Lucia in that regard. But the views were fabulous.

Positano was very hilly and windy, but lovely. A very vibrant arts scene and the foliage was fantastic. And with lots of limoncello there, too, as it turns out. Let me explain.

We were a small group of eight, which included our guide, and that group was actually one less than it should have been, as one of the guests had injured his back the day before in Rome and was not in any condition to go on the trip today. We found this out because we befriended his wife, Clare, who we took a liking to and decided to make her our traveling companion for the day.

One thing we discovered about Clare, however: she likes to drink. In fact, we discovered this in Positano at ten o'clock in the morning, as after wandering through the town, she suggested we order some limoncello drinks to "get a taste of the local flavor."

And suddenly...the world started turning...

This slight detour did cause us a bit of stress. Our return time to the bus was only an hour long, and after the drinks, Corb wished to do some shopping. Unfortunately, that left Clare and I to pay the bill, and Corb's shopping took him away from the limoncello establishment. For so long that Clare and I grew nervous that he had left us. In my slightly drunken state, I actually contemplated heading back to the bus without him! I did have some logic: I thought maybe in his drunken state, he had left for it without us. Fortunately, he showed up before we became too frantic.

All this did make us late for the bus. And Clare was even later, as she wanted to buy a few things.

Once she was back, she apologized profusely to everyone on the bus and said she owed them big time. No one was upset, and we headed off to Sorrento. By the time we got there, I was seeing things more clearly.

Sorrento is a lovely town. After an hour long walk around the area, we had lunch at the Ristorante Museo Caruso. It was a delicious meal, and we dined with Clare as well as a younger couple. But at the end of the meal, Clare insisted on buying everyone shots of limoncello to make up for being late. I accepted mine but drank it VERY slowly. Clare...not so much.

Then, off to the star location of the day, Pompeii. As mentioned, we were surprised that the site was so huge. Amazing!

My favorite placed was the Pompeian whorehouse, of course. Whore that I am. I loved the penis markers indicating that there was a brothel inside as well as the erotic paintings found within. Clare said her father was a student of history and told her there were also penis markers on the roads pointing to the whorehouse, and sure enough, there were.

And of course, the bodies captured at the moment of death were incredibly haunting.

Pompeii was huge, and we only covered the lower left hand side of the map in three hours.

All in all, this was an A Plus day all the way around. What a great freeing trip this has been. Corb said he considers it the best excursion ever, fueled mainly by Pompeii, and it really is another bucket list item crossed off for us.

But then, Paris, Barcelona, Rome...so many bucket list items have been crossed off these past few weeks. And, we got to visit a Pompeiin whorehouse!

It went by far too quickly, but before you knew it, we were back in our bus and headed back to the terminal. And then, back into the boat, where we were able to witness a perfect sunset.

A perfect sunset, I love that. Tomorrow is our last day on the ship, and it will be a cruise day, so I probably won't post about the sadness of the last day I will undoubtedly feel. Still, four more days in Barcelona after that, so I cannot be too sad!

"Rome is the city of echoes, the city of illusions, and the city of yearning." – Giotto di Bondone

Rome was everything we could want and more. What a really special day; we will definitely be back. As with our Athens trip, I love the integration of the old structures and artifacts with the new. That is so cool, for us.

There was so much to see, and we barely scratched the surface. We want to see so much more.

It helped that HOHO worked better today. Part of that involved knowing what to expect, but we also had an excellent cruise guide who actually did her job and laid everything out up front. We would do HOHO again, because it gave us more independence throughout the day, to set our own schedule.

Spoiler alert: no photos of the Vatican or really any religious iconography. That isn't our interest.

This is the statue of Santa Fermina, which was located outside our boat. She is the patron saint of navigation.

Our check in was seven, and we navigated a two hour entry into Rome, by bus, then train. Fortunately, due to the efficiency of our tour guide, we had seven hours to play.

Perhaps due to the early start, I fell asleep on the train and dreamt of being locked in my cabin with a serial killer. I woke up screaming super loudly for ten seconds. The four older ladies from Ohio next to us were scared out of their minds. One woman worked in a psych ward! Corb is still laughing about this.

Thanks to the tour guide, we hopped onto HOHO right away this time.

I won't post all the photos I took, only certain highlights or something that strikes me as silly. Our first stop was the Pantheon, of course.

A not-so-funny thing that happened on the way to the Pantheon: we ended up in an area that housed a number of antique stores. Uh oh. This became a pain point as Corb started to discover things he would like to acquire. This! And this! And this! For example, this item: this is a Medusa with snake that Corb would like for his birthday. Hint hint. A steal at $6500!

I am not sure I want to pack a Medusa head in our suitcases. Although asking how it got there might be fun!

This is the Fontana del Nettuno (Fountain of Neptune), located at the northern end of Piazza Navona. And then there was the Pantheon.

The Trevi fountain...

The Coliseum...

And after all this antiquity hunting, at long last, we ate. We chose Guenda, a restaurant located directly opposite the Circus Maximus at Via dei Cerchi 73. It is known for its unique setting inside ancient Roman tufa caves dating all the way back to 46 BC. It was really cool.

I chose a caprese salad. The tomatoes were to die for! The arugula was so fresh. I was in heaven. Corb chose a great pizza with similar ingredients and super crunchy crust.

I chose my favorite, affogato, for dessert. These are my two favorite selections for Italian food. I dislike meatballs, my mother made them every Friday night growing up. I thought this being my two faves would be considered odd, but here's what I learned today: Italian Caprese salad and affogato represent the ultimate savory and sweet pairing. The Caprese provides a fresh, savory, and herbaceous flavor to start a meal, while the affogato offers a sweet and bitter contrast to finish it. Go me!

After that, more walking about until it was time to say Arrivederci, Roma. And then, we grudgingly made our way back to our HOHO location. I used as my guide this lady wearing an ugly hat whenever I was afraid we were losing our tour group through the crowds.

Another beautiful day. And cannot wait until tomorrow!

I woke up at four this morning in the middle of a deep sleep. Felt around, grabbed the phone. Groggily responded to an old friend's text message about opening night for Hunchback this Friday.

She said she expected to feel the ghost of an old friend who is no longer with us, upon her return to Wheaton last night.

Dan. I've felt that. When we came back to Wheaton for our second production of Chess, I felt the presence of that person acutely...even thought I saw him briefly and shadowy during the run-through of one number we both really loved. Good old Spyder.

Unable to sleep, I got up and walked to our balcony. Looked outside. There was Mother Moon, shining down overhead, casting a beautiful glow over everything, supportive and loving.

I thought about me and hubby, so far away, adventuring our adventures. But still connecting and communicating and supporting and loving, as if we were only miles away.

My mind turned to everyone I've been in contact with this week, for one reason or another. Friends from so many different points and stages of my life; it feels like an absurdly large number. Work friends, theater friends, beloved family members, friends from 40-plus years ago, friends from the here and now. Like twinkling lights across a night sky, all the stages have been represented.

And I realized, as you get older, your capacity for love and support grows wider and deeper. It expands and is enriched, just by the sheer force of the connections you make and sustain. And sustain. And sustain.

Life is the sum accumulation of the ripples you make. And those ripples grow into waves and last for such a long, long time.

After I finished writing that, I looked back at the night sky.

The moon was gone.

And I realized then and there.

That I am at my strongest in the here and now.

Shining light from afar.

Rippling and connecting.

Guess what? Not only that. Bigger. Broader. We all have that capacity. Right now and even beyond.

"A little bit of mercy makes the world less cold and more just." Pope Francis

The excursion meter absolutely clicked up a notch today. We had such a fabulous day in Marseilles/mostly Avignon, visiting the Pope's palace, enjoying an exquisite lunch, and seriously contemplating not going back on the ship. One for the memory books, but then, this whole trip has been that way.

The ship was docked at Marseilles, but we spent most of the day at Avignon. Our tour guide today was top notch, this time around. She knew when to talk and when to simply let people enjoy the location. That is truly an art only a few tour guides understand.

The Golden Lady loomed over everything we did today. Avignon is a city in southeastern France’s Provence region, set on the Rhône River. From 1309 to 1377, it was the seat of the Catholic popes and remained under papal rule until becoming part of France in 1791. This legacy can be seen in the massive Palais des Papes (Popes' Palace) in the city center, which is surrounded by medieval stone ramparts. That was of course where we were headed.

Into the outer folds we went. Once we breached the folds, we were among the masses, waiting to get in. These young dudes started assuming this pose to stretch before exercising, which was not me with approval by one of the families traveling with us on the tour. The father, a grouchy older man, said loudly, "This is why they think Americans are so weird." No, that's not why. It's not weirdness Europeans dislike, I think, it's arrogance.

We made our way into the entrance chamber. After the popes moved back to Rome, the castle wasn't kept up that well and during the Civil War, things started to get demolished. The fresco on the left in this area is the only one that survived.

We entered the private chambers to meet the first Avignon pope, but he was sleeping.

His bed chamber was beautiful, however. The French at the time did not sleep laying out, as we do, but half up, so the beds were smaller. And, he would have slept near the fireplace.

And then, to the dining room. You can invite a lot of friends into this dining room.

After a thorough viewing, we departed the castle and entered the city. And, when we arrived, we saw this amazing restaurant, where we decided to have a nice liesurely lunch rather than walking about through the tourists. Le Vintage was tops. Cute waiter, too.

Here's the promo for the restaurant: Nestled in a pretty pedestrian street in the heart of Avignon, le Vintage restaurant welcomes you just a stone's throw from the Place de l'Horloge and the Popes' Palace, to offer you its delicious bistronomic cuisine with Provencal accents. The hosts welcome you to their pretty, shaded terrace in the heart of Avignon's historic center, to treat you from appetizer to dessert. Homemade cuisine based on fresh, seasonal produce.

While we were enjoying the local fare, we noticed these stickers all over the restaurant and inquired. This was a way to celebrate the former manager, who just retired. They did this for me at Fidelity, too, for my farewell party! Except, they gave me a crown, as "PR King." Guess they are less enamored of royalty, here in France, than we are in Boston.

All in all, such a beautiful day. Our conversations again turned to just getting away from everything, the shitty Trump administration, the very trivial aggravations that we have to deal with day in and day out in our home life. Just leave it all and find a new place to fly and be free. I don't know, with family obligations, if we could ever really do this. But it is fun to think about. And Avignon was such a beautiful city to dream about these sorts of things.

"The endless wheel goes round and round, chances are you'll never leave this town..." Elton John

Our day in Palma del Mallorca was quite nice, although I swear these cruises start a bit mild and then build up to bigger locations for the end.

Palma is a resort city and capital of the Spanish island of Mallorca (Majorca), in the western Mediterranean. Mollorca is part of the Canary islands, and the region is still volcanically active. So, we were able to see an interesting mix of plant life.

This was a sweet little village, we had a perky tour guide who started us out at a botanical garden in the land of oranges where they made orange cake for us, along with orange ice cream, and it was just what we needed after a week of exhausting days.

The entrance to the Botanical garden, which had some lovely foliage. They also grew oranges, limes and numerous other vegetables. The oranges we saw were a bit smaller than the ones we are used to. Our guide said they are not suffering the blight problems Florida faces due to variation of plant life, although on the way back there were several native orange trees that were impacted.

But, they are also growing snakes! Snakes are not native to this island, which only had mountain goats and pigs until a few years ag. The snakes were brought on from a ship, unwanted. They grow to seven feet tall. And, ick!

After a walk around the location, we had a cooking demonstration. The orange cake that was created was very good, and the chef was adorable and very Spanish. Our very chatty tour guide kept talking over him. He seemed anxious to get on with the demonstration but gamely put up with her frequent interjections.

Once cake time had ended, we headed into the town square. The umbrella in the photo is our perky tour guide, although she is walking in front of the person in purple.

One thing I noticed at this location: clearly, several residents are tired of the swell of tourists overtaking this small quaint town. I can't say I blame them. There were several flags like this, and the town center was jam packed with tourists, making the day to day of living rather impossible during cruise days, I imagine.

Two of the main attractions in town: this lovely old church and the train station. The massive Santa María cathedral, a Gothic landmark begun in the 13th century, overlooks the Bay of Palma. As you can imagine, Corb loved the chandelier. The post office, in the meantime, has a Picasso exhibit.

Then, back to the ship. The tour guide kept up her endless stream of chatter as we headed back. She was quite informative. There were a lot of sandstone structures in this area, as it is popular for building around here, including castles.

All in all, it was a beautiful day, and a nice way to start this trip. It was also a welcome change after all the walking we have done this past week in Paris and Barcelona. But I have a feeling there is more excitement to come.

"To reach a port we must set sail. Sail, not tie at anchor. Sail, not drift." — Franklin D. Roosevelt

Sunday was the day, of course, that we were due to set sail on the Harmony of the Seas, which is a boat we've been on before, ten years ago, in the Caribbean. But before boarding, we decided to spend a bit more time exploring Barcelona, which turned out to be something of a mistake.

The exploring part was a lot of fun. We found a cute breakfast place and had a solid breakfast, which reflected Corb's fascination with pain au chocolate. Hopefully when we return for a few days we can find it again! After that, we did a lot of walking and to pass a bit of time and get out of the sun, we visited the Wax Museum of Barcelona.

Ah, but therein lies our mistake. After we were done exploring, we went back to our hotel to pick up our bags and learned that there had been an event taking place that day until one, making taxi pick-up difficult. We were told our best bet would be to walk to the Columbus Monument, which is a 60 m tall monument to Christopher Columbus at the lower end of La Rambla, where taxis typically pick up people.

The problem: due to the event (and I suspect also because it's a huge hassle for the drivers), no taxis would take us. We were turned down by about ten drivers or charged a ridiculous amount of money. Corb started looking into other options.

There really was only one. With our boarding time looming, we had no choice but to walk in the 90-degree weather toward the cruise port, which was a 40-minute trip, loaded down by four bags. Walking from Barcelona’s main cruise piers (Moll Adossat) from the city center is an intense two-mile journey that cuts through an active industrial area and a long causeway and is hot, loud, and not much fun, especially when you get to the bridge outside the port that is fairly steep.

No photo description available.

We weren't the only ones, of course. In fact, there were literally hundreds of people carrying suitcases making their way to the cruise port. For most people, I didn't think it was a huge deal to walk all that way, and over the bridge, but I did get a bit concerned seeing all the older people in their seventies bogged down by luggage making this walk. Several had to stop and rest as they unsteadily made their way along the uneven streets. I am sure there have been health incidents in the past.

By the time we arrived at the cruise port, every sweat gland in my body was pumping away and I was exhausted. I am just grateful we had uploaded our badge photos before we left for the cruise, because I am sure both of us looked like horrible, sweat drenched messes. We could not wait to board the boat and get into our cabin and start to feel normal again.

But thankfully, we made it! And now we had an intense sequence of places to visit, ended with Rome and Pompeii. We were so excited to be off and running.

One note that I am not sure I will be able to fit anywhere else: while we absolutely loved our dining staff, our cabin attendant did not get along with us. Things started badly because he knocked about a minute after we got into our suite and we were in no condition to talk with him, so asked him to please come back later. They grew worse when during the next knock, with Corb talking to his mom, I asked if we could have some of our clothing dry cleaned from our week in Paris. He grew really agitated by that, since it was before the mid-point in the cruise where they typically offer a cleaning deal. However, from all the walking we did in Paris during a heat wave, we really needed them cleaned.

He promised they'd be done in a day (Corb needed underwear). They weren't done in a day. He grew angry and lost his temper with me when I called the day he had promised.

By the middle of the trip, we were only communicating with him through closed doors. Like, he would knock and we would say "we're leaving soon!" It wasn't optimal.

"I had this perfect dream; this dream was me and you..." Freddie Mercury

This morning, we woke up at 4:30 after climbing the Eifel Tower until all hours of the night. Which may not have been the wisest idea, in retrospect. But, we had an seven-hour high speed train ride to Barcelona to catch, and we had to be off. We were able to sleep a bit during the train ride, although I am really not the best for sleeping while traveling.

Finally we reached Barcelona. We stayed at a sixties style hotel in the Ramblas. It was not the Paris Hyatt but very comfortable and when we arrived in our room, which was available at one, we collapsed on our bed immediately. The hotel is on the small side and is clearly older and reconverted, but a lot of work had clearly been put in to make it fun and hip, and I loved the sixties decor.

It was also very clean. Corb said it kind of reminded him of some of the hotels he stayed in in Instanbul.

But then, after a quick nap, it was off to adventure! We loved Barcelona right away. What a fantastic vibe the city has. I have been messaging with Steve throughout this trip and he told me that we would love Barcelona, I think because it is so gay friendly. He is correct, whatever the reason. It's a very charming coastal city, and we knew that we were only going to capture a slice of it that day, since our cruise was headed out the next day.

After a stroll around the Ramblas, we went to a local restaurant for a delicious meal. I have heard some folks say they dislike Barcelona for its food, but seriously, tapas and empanadas...what's not to love? We were happy as can be, which I think you can tell from the smiles on our faces.

We ended up in the city square, and that evening, the Parisian soccer team won back-to-back Champion League titles after a shootout victory over Arsenal. I have seen some of the coverage, and it looks like we got out of Paris just in time. The soccer fans in Barcelona were just as exuberant, and some of the young men ended up jumping into the fountain behind us just after we took this photo.

I don't know that made me happy, just to be in the center of the celebration. I will admit that I kind of got choked up, watching them cheering and singing and jumping into the water.

There was also a nearby drag show. We were chatting with some of the performers.

Fabulous, fabulous five star evening. I cannot wait to explore Barcelona further.

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tedwords

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Recent Entries

A Tale of two families

More Tales of Alleged Freedom and Macaroni Salad

Presentation

The week in review

Time cubes.

The Long Father's day lobsterfest 2026

Reawakening.

Over the hump

Back from Barcelona

Barcelona (6/9)

Back to Barcelona (6/8)

Back to Barcelona (6/7)

Cruise day (6/6)

Pompeii (6/5)

Roma (6/4)

Night skies and Mother Moon

Avignon (6/2)

Palma del Mallorca (6/1)

Onto the Boat We Go (5/31)

Barcelona (5/30)