Beach House on the Chesapeake

So we had a family reunion of another sort last week. My husband's family (five siblings, with spouses and children) spent some time at a beautiful house in Virginia - right on the Chesapeake Bay. I'd expected it to be nice, but not THIS nice! The Chesapeake is expansive down where we were - so the view was ocean-like. But the water was calm and warm and the kids were able to walk way out and still have the water be waste high. We all took some great pictures and I wanted to share some of mine here.

Here are some shots of "All the Cousins":

Hanging out at the beach.... And at the house.

The Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel (This was so COOL!):

The little "ghost crabs" who took over the beach at around sunset:

Family togetherness:

The Sunsets were magnificent!






















Yes, we have had quite a summer! Being in Virginia with the family was such a great part of it!!

Thank you, Burke Family!

"Do I Know You?"

I, like the lunachick, had so many things to write about today. I was alone a lot (yay) and without my cellphone (very rare) and I was having all these epiphanies. But now I'm a little too sleepy to write about any of those.

Then there's the fact that my oldest child will turn 11 tomorrow. I'm feelin' all kinds of sentimental about that. Naah. Too sappy.

How about this though. Does anyone out there know Connie Vaccaro? I'm guessing probably not, since she has a Canadian email address. The thing is, though, I seem to be on her short list for fwd: fwd: fw emails. And the other thing is: I don't know who she is.

I get a lot of fwd: fwd's and I really can't stand them. Usually they're about the latest scheme rapists are using to get you in a Mall parking lot. Or about some American-loving Iraqi sculptor who created an homage to the US army.

But often I get the "Women are the best" variety. They usually talk about how I'm one of the best friends this person has, or how I'm a "smart and independent" woman. And usually they come from someone I know and love. (Well, not always the love part).

But about a month ago I got one from Connie Vaccaro. Her name sounded familiar. Maybe she is one of my cousins' wives or daughters who live out in Nevada. One of the people I met a reunion a couple of years ago. But I'm not that forgetful, am I? And wouldn't I have seen my mother's or sister's email along with the few she has listed?

So I saved the email, hoping I'd figure out who she was. But I didn't. Over the past few days, I've gotten two more emails from her: "The purple hat," and "A funny story." I did a little search on her email address, and I found out she's from a Canadian Healthcare company. Now I'm really intrigued.

But I'm kind of stuck. I can't exactly reply to her email with "Thanks, that's cute! Oh, and WHO ARE YOU??" (My kids disagree, btw. They think I should write just that!)

Oh no. I just thought of something. What if it's a hoax and she's sending me a virus to wipe out my computer's memory. I haven't gotten that email yet. Have any of you??

The Big M

Can we talk about mammograms?

If you've had one, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, like my husband, then you really need to know what it's like.
Think of two plates of plexi-glass, situated at about chest level, which are controlled by an electronic vice. The vice pushes the plates together slowly, but persistently, so that the tissue between them is spread out as thinly as possible. Your breast goes in there.

First, though, the technician basically holds your breast and moves it into place. Yesterday, when I had my last one, it was very warm out. But your not allowed to wear deodorant or powder or anything, so, as my tech put it, "people keep getting stuck" in the wrong piosition. When this happens, the tech will basically peel your breast off the plate and reposition it.

Then, with your face pushed against the top of the machine, and your arm reaching across, you have to stay still while the vice closes. During this portion of the procedure, I like to watch the numbers on the electronic gauge as they quickly decrease. I take little guesses about when it will start to hurt, and when the vice will finally stop closing.

Then the technician says, "stop breathing." I'm not kidding. This is what she says. Apparently, if you breathe, the picture gets blurry and they have to repeat the whole process. So, I held my breath.

Then you're done. With the first picture. Of the first breast.

When the vice is released, you feel a little silly standing there so close to the machine, half naked, your gown hanging off one shoulder. But you can take comfort in the fact that very soon, and if she's good, very quietly, the technician will be handling your breast again.

I'm not complaining, or anything. I'm glad the procedure exists, considering how many women are getting breast cancer at such a young age. I'm just saying, man, it sucks. And man, we are pretty tough creatures, women, to go through this every year (for me it's twice a year).

Just imagine, for a minute, the same procedure for men's private parts. They already complain about handling during a doctor's exam, what if they had to endure the crushing?? It would never happen.

The Heart of Summer

August is here. I have to admit, it’s hot. VERY hot. The kids are fighting, the van’s air conditioner is just marginally working, my hair is frizzy and the bugs are starting to get annoying. Did I mention how hot it is? It’s hot in a sultry way – how when you look out over the farm fields the air looks like it’s rippling. Late summer hot. And humid too.

My mood has been similar.

But enough complaining. This month only comes once a year. And when February rolls around, I know I'll be longing for the heart of the summer.

August is the month where summer on long island really resides. The difference between August and July is visceral for me.

The flowers are blooming in a crazy overgrown way. Bright yellow bunches of black-eyed Susans flanked by huge blue hydrangeas are my favorite combination. Bee-balm, Verbena, and the bright pink Hibiscus are also magnificent. Butterfly bushes, both purple and white, gently sway in the wind and are surrounded by all different types of the shrub’s namesake.

The strong scents of these flowers capture me each time I walk in my own yard.

And there are the views of the farms. The corn fields are full and green. I love when the farmers plant the corn at different times, so that the harvest is spread out. You see three, four or sometimes five different stages -from the smallest to the fullest grown - in one field! There are the perfect rows of grapevines in the vineyards. When it’s hot and humid like this, a subtle fog lingers over the tops of the vines. I love the north fork so much this time of year – even the sod farms, the deepest greens with their huge sprinklers shooting out above them, are beautiful.

The sun is setting earlier in the day, but the sunsets are so rich, I don’t even mind. Maybe the scientist in me knows that it’s the heavy air in the atmosphere that causes this, but the huge glowing sun sinking in the sky still gets me every night. The sky at twilight gleams pink long after it’s gone.

The flavors: I have a CSA (community Supported Agriculture) share at Garden of Eve organic farm. And now it’s really paying off. I received three different kinds of tomatoes today – plum, yellow cherry, and these adorable little currant tomatoes. The flavor of freshly picked summer tomatoes is incomparable for me – sweet and tangy and rich and fruity. It is “the taste of summer,” I told my kids at dinner. (Yes they looked at me as if I was old and corny and a little pitiful).

But it is.

The heat of August holds sweet memories for me, too. My husband and I met in early August, at a wedding in Glen Cove. We were both spending the night at the same hotel and if it weren’t for the late night heat, we might not have spent so many hours dangling our feet in the pool, or strolling under the Beech trees getting to know one another – falling in love.

My first child was born in August (5 years after I met my husband – to the day!) I’ll admit, the sultry atmosphere was probably lost on me in August of 1996, (let’s face it, it’s pretty hard to romanticize 27 hour of labor), but every year since then, celebrating my son’s birthday has been a very special occasion for me. And even as I sweat through cake cuttings and clown breakdowns, hot humid summer days will always make me think of birthday parties in the backyard.

I can’t neglect to mention the beach. I love to be there late in the day, when many people head home and the breeze picks up. I love to gaze out over the sound and listen to the water roll over the pebbles. I love the north shore – I grew up swimming in the sound, in bays and harbors. But I also love the ocean – the sound of waves crashing is what peace sounds like to me.

So tomorrow, when I’m traveling to yet another far-away family occasion, I will try not to moan about the bickering in the backseat, or the glare of the sun working against my poor old van’s AC. I’ll patiently blow dry my bangs and sip my bottled water, and I’ll let the sights, smells, feelings and memories of August fill me up.

I’ll relax and try to exist right here - in the heart of summer.