Sunday, 14 March 2010
Recently I have been having a series of compelling conversations with a somewhat-mature (okay, older) man about a daydream we both-- quite innocently-- discovered we share. I do not remember which of us brought it up first, but it's gone on some three nights or so now and finally I mentioned the gist of it to my parents.
Of course anyone knows I do not chat about anything inappropriate. It's not that kind of daydream! But I do often indulge people's imaginations, like to say, 'If you could live anywhere, where would you live?' --or 'If you could do any job, what would you do?' --and then, of course, ask why. And that evolves into a sensible, interesting discussion. (It's certainly more respectable than asking, 'If you could touch me anywhere, where would you touch me first?' --right? I mean I really don't need to know THAT kind of daydream from anyone!)
The daydream we discussed was about finding a private tropical island somewhere and then what one's life would be like if he or she had the opportunity to live there. I learned that a woman's fantasy about that is very different from a man's. For one thing, the man dreams of having some shack that requires no maintenance at all, a lazy man's retreat, if you will. Most men would probably like to avoid all forms of work, like home maintenance, personal hygiene, laundry, shaving, and so on. Also, a man would probably like to go fishing all day long, whenever he wants to. And, of course, he dreams of having some beautiful young (female) thing there to share it all with.
As a woman I dream of having some small but beautiful house for which I don't have to do all the work (that's the fantasy part). I don't like fishing and would rather eat fruit, or cultivate an orchard like we had at Lewes, and just pick whatever I want to eat whenever I want to eat it. I think that walking, swimming, and climbing trees along with a mostly-fruit diet would probably keep me strong and slender. I'm pretty sure I would shave at least as much as I do now, and I cannot abide my hair at all once it's been a day or two since a good shampooing. But as far as laundry is concerned I think I would be pretty happy with not having to worry about any of it (beyond what nature makes absolutely necessary for a week or so each month of course).
And just maybe, if he were the right choice, I would like to have a special someone to share it all with.
My friend online actually looked up 'Islands for sale' under Google and discovered a whole web site from some estate agents in Belize advertising about a dozen whole islands as well as parcels on slightly-larger islands. The islands are mostly small-- under 15 acres. Once I saw a few pictures of them I was infatuated and browsed them all till very late one night. I decided upon Harbour Cay. It's five acres and is for sale at $550,000. Honestly.
Harbour Cay has a natural lagoon, sheltered on almost four sides, about 6 or 7 feet deep. The whole island is to the north of the lagoon with only a narrow spit south of it, and the entrance to the west-southwest makes it perfect for sheltering a yacht in a hurricane. The interior is lovely, all soft green grass populated by small trees that have grown back since the last time some dreamer cleared it and left off the project. The advert says it might need filling to be high enough above the tide levels, but if one were to dredge the lagoon to about 8 or 9 feet, to accommodate a decent sailboat, there would be enough from that to fill a building site quite well.
I studied it (for at least an hour into the night) and decided where I would put my house. Now, my house would not be a low-maintenance shack. It would be an elegant little low-maintenance pirate's retreat, the kind of place an 18th-century sea captain would retire to when he gave up his ship to settle down, full of Oriental carpets, tile fireplaces, wooden panelling, mahogany furniture, and all (much like a small version of this house, and simpler). It would be of block, like this house is, with the local sand providing about half the concrete ingredients. It would have a three- or four-storey tower surrounded by lower wings, two bedrooms on the second floor, a ballroom, dining room and small parlour on the first, a semidetached kitchen and pantry, and then at the end of a long cloister bridge, a guest room. The first storey would be about 6 feet off the ground in case of flooding. Across the lagoon there is a knob of land jutting out where I would have another tower, only two storeys, with a guest room on the bottom floor, really just as a kind of landmark or lookout point as though to protect the harbour entrance.
That made me think of protection. Maybe, being a woman, I care more about this than some people might. But I can't imagine the southwestern Caribbean to be profoundly free of crime. I started thinking about black-powder guns mounted on the parapets of the towers, and then thought maybe just a good World War II machine gun. The problem would be in getting actual ammunition. I don't suppose World War II machine-gun bullets are very easy to come by even in Belize. This is why I fall back on my typically 18th-century idea of black powder. I just don't know how or where I would like to store it, since it's very volatile. (Daddy does not keep all of his in the house, only what will fit in the small safety niche he has in the kitchen fireplace stack. That's actually the traditional way of storing it at home.)
And then came the fateful storm on Saturday, when the power went out for five and a half hours, and (by candlelight, appropriately) I looked into Daddy's now-dated catalogue from that place in Ohio where all the Amish shop that's full of appliances that don't use electricity. (We got our kitchen stove there.) And I got to thinking, that my version of the tropical-island house has too many bathrooms and toilets that wouldn't really work. I mean-- where do you get water pressure to flush if the whole island is flat? And why do you need private bathrooms if the whole island is private? Wouldn't just one composting toilet, maybe in the basement, be good enough?
Anyway I did make the mistake of mentioning this idea to my dad, who immediately poured over the whole website and concluded, as I did, that Harbour Cay is the very plum of the whole selection, and for the same reasons I said. We then started drawing plans on his computer using the home-design programme he has (he designed this house with it). We ironed out a lot of the issues I had and came up with more problems and then solved those too. And then, of course, Daddy had to mention it at dinner.
'Five hundred thousand dollars,' he said. 'Empty lots in South Jersey cost more than that.'
Mother only shook her head, smiling. 'They're improved, dear,' she said. 'Where do we get water? --or power?'
'We make it,' he said, 'or we do without.' Then he and I ranted on about our ideas so far. This got Jessy and Lisa and even JJ all enthused about it and we all went on and on and on till someone, I don't remember which of us, realised that this wasn't such a kooky plan but could actually work. I mean-- Daddy has offshore savings accounts, and, as he said, Belize is as good a place as any to invest. It's politically stable, it's actually enjoying a pretty good investment market, it's got a temperate climate, it's mostly improved with power, cable TV, and Internet, it's full of North American necessities like natural gas, gasoline, fresh water supplies and sewage systems, everyone speaks English and the US dollar is taken everywhere. And Harbour Cay is hardly remote, only about five miles offshore and therefore within sight of a mainland boatyard. Theoretically we lived farther offshore than that when we lived at Long Beach Island!
Daddy said it would be cool to fly down and have a look at it. After all, if they know who he is, it's sure that they'll consider him seriously as a potential customer. Lots of retired rock musicians buy properties in the Caribbean. He could probably even get a good deal on it.
Then Mother said, 'Well, you can't blame me if I think it's a little nuts to just pack up and leave for some tropical island on a second's notice like this.'
We all sighed and looked at her. Mother is as much a daydreamer as anyone, but she's also too intelligent to give over all sense, you know. Daddy sighed too. 'I suppose you're right,' he said quietly.
'I mean,' Mother said, not quite looking up yet, 'I've put away all my swimsuits. You'd have to give me about twenty minutes.'
When she looked up we were all staring back at her with our mouths hanging open. I still have shivers in my spine from it.
...
Showing posts with label New Jersey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Jersey. Show all posts
15 March 2010
10 February 2010
Bugs in a rug
Friday, 5 February 2010
Our parents are still away, of course, tending to my uncle in NJ who is improving and is due home tomorrow. We three girls have been getting on quite well actually. I know it can be taken wrong, but sometimes it's healthy to have events that make you have to fend for yourself a little. Oh, I do not mean that it should be someone's health in jeopardy. I only mean that, for example, my parents should not feel concerned if they have to leave us on our own.
Of course this means Jessy and me looking out after little Lisa. Lisa herself is totally thrilled with the arrangement-- especially since her 'silly' uncle is going to be better. For her it's all girls all the time, which makes her feel like one of the big girls. We have been toying with makeup, dancing to CDs and iTunes, playing piano and singing along, baking brownies, making vats of pasta, working out down stairs and sitting up watching 'Greek' reruns and 'iCarly' and basically doing whatever we're not supposed to be doing when Mother and Daddy are here.
Last night we were all in this room, Jessy on FaceBook with her laptop, Lisa drawing in a pad of paper on the floor in front of the fire, and me as usual sitting up in the bed, surrounded by blankets, tapping away on this. When it got to about 9.00 we realised Lisa had to be going to bed, but of course she didn't want to leave. She had got her bath early (well, she and Jessy had it together) and I really ought to have tucked her into her own bed, but then the little conniver came up with a plan. 'We should all sleep in here!' she announced, and immediately set to organising the bed. Within three minutes she had three or four of her own 'stufties' in here, my Cinnamon Bear and Jessy's rabbit, three pillows and then all the covers turned down. Jessy, of course, indulged her entirely, even to the point of getting into bed early, so that by 9.30 both of them were completely zeed out in my bed-- with scarcely any room for me, of course.
When I did turn in, about 11 or so, I drew the bed curtains to conserve the body heat, although I can't remember that ever being a problem with this bed when there were three of us in it. Lisa was right in the middle, not leaving much room for me on the far side but I squeezed right up against her, wrapped an arm round her, and all was well. But I knew she would be the first one up. Sure enough I was roused out of a nice deep sleep (and a really good dream) by someone whispering right beside me.
'Jesseeeeee! Jesseeeeee!'
I winced. 'What time is it? I asked wearily.
Lisa turned right round under my arm, her face about an inch and a half from mine. 'Janine!'
'That would be me,' I said without opening my eyes.
'I have to go potty.'
I winced again. 'I trust you will be able to take care of that in the proper place and not in the bed,' I said.
She nodded and then wriggled out the top of the covers and crawled off the foot of the bed. When she returned she had left the light on, which I reminded her about, but she said she would not be able to find the bed in the dark.
'Well you can't leave that on all night,' I said. 'Follow the sound of sleeping people.'
'Okay!' she said. She left, the bathroom light went dark, and she returned, crawling up between us and settling back in. I put an arm round her, but she turned and faced me. 'I love you, Janine,' she said softly.
I sighed. 'I love you too.'
'Am I a good little sister?'
I smiled-- still with my eyes closed-- and kissed her forehead, which was about an inch from my lips anyway. 'The best,' I said, and drew her in to snuggle under my neck. 'Go to sleep.'
'Okay,' she said.
When I woke in the morning she was still there, under my arm, curled up against my chest like a small child with her mother. I am not her mother, but at times like these it can be hard to tell.
...
Our parents are still away, of course, tending to my uncle in NJ who is improving and is due home tomorrow. We three girls have been getting on quite well actually. I know it can be taken wrong, but sometimes it's healthy to have events that make you have to fend for yourself a little. Oh, I do not mean that it should be someone's health in jeopardy. I only mean that, for example, my parents should not feel concerned if they have to leave us on our own.
Of course this means Jessy and me looking out after little Lisa. Lisa herself is totally thrilled with the arrangement-- especially since her 'silly' uncle is going to be better. For her it's all girls all the time, which makes her feel like one of the big girls. We have been toying with makeup, dancing to CDs and iTunes, playing piano and singing along, baking brownies, making vats of pasta, working out down stairs and sitting up watching 'Greek' reruns and 'iCarly' and basically doing whatever we're not supposed to be doing when Mother and Daddy are here.
Last night we were all in this room, Jessy on FaceBook with her laptop, Lisa drawing in a pad of paper on the floor in front of the fire, and me as usual sitting up in the bed, surrounded by blankets, tapping away on this. When it got to about 9.00 we realised Lisa had to be going to bed, but of course she didn't want to leave. She had got her bath early (well, she and Jessy had it together) and I really ought to have tucked her into her own bed, but then the little conniver came up with a plan. 'We should all sleep in here!' she announced, and immediately set to organising the bed. Within three minutes she had three or four of her own 'stufties' in here, my Cinnamon Bear and Jessy's rabbit, three pillows and then all the covers turned down. Jessy, of course, indulged her entirely, even to the point of getting into bed early, so that by 9.30 both of them were completely zeed out in my bed-- with scarcely any room for me, of course.
When I did turn in, about 11 or so, I drew the bed curtains to conserve the body heat, although I can't remember that ever being a problem with this bed when there were three of us in it. Lisa was right in the middle, not leaving much room for me on the far side but I squeezed right up against her, wrapped an arm round her, and all was well. But I knew she would be the first one up. Sure enough I was roused out of a nice deep sleep (and a really good dream) by someone whispering right beside me.
'Jesseeeeee! Jesseeeeee!'
I winced. 'What time is it? I asked wearily.
Lisa turned right round under my arm, her face about an inch and a half from mine. 'Janine!'
'That would be me,' I said without opening my eyes.
'I have to go potty.'
I winced again. 'I trust you will be able to take care of that in the proper place and not in the bed,' I said.
She nodded and then wriggled out the top of the covers and crawled off the foot of the bed. When she returned she had left the light on, which I reminded her about, but she said she would not be able to find the bed in the dark.
'Well you can't leave that on all night,' I said. 'Follow the sound of sleeping people.'
'Okay!' she said. She left, the bathroom light went dark, and she returned, crawling up between us and settling back in. I put an arm round her, but she turned and faced me. 'I love you, Janine,' she said softly.
I sighed. 'I love you too.'
'Am I a good little sister?'
I smiled-- still with my eyes closed-- and kissed her forehead, which was about an inch from my lips anyway. 'The best,' I said, and drew her in to snuggle under my neck. 'Go to sleep.'
'Okay,' she said.
When I woke in the morning she was still there, under my arm, curled up against my chest like a small child with her mother. I am not her mother, but at times like these it can be hard to tell.
...
02 February 2010
Emergent occasions
Tuesday, 2 February 2010
We got a phone call very early this morning that my uncle had had a heart attack and had been flown to Philadelphia for surgery. This immediately upset my father to the point of insisting that he drive up there straight away. Little JJ was not even out of bed (and he is an early riser) and Daddy and Mother were packing things and getting ready to go. I stood there stuffing a toasted muffin into my mouth whilst they scurried round with suitcases and so on.
Of course Mother would not let him go alone. They would be taking JJ with them, so that he could stay with our other uncle's family in southern New Jersey for a few days whilst Mother and Daddy went on to Philadelphia. We were fortunate to have had Roger here the last few days-- working on the new (old) Buick project with Daddy, and so they would have him and the dark-green car for the ride. But it meant that I would be left to see little Lisa off to school for the next few mornings, and to arrive late each day myself (as her school starts an hour after mine, so I will miss first and half of second period by the time I get there. But, it cannot be helped).
Before they left this morning we did get another phone call and the news that our uncle had probably not had a true heart attack but that he has significant arterial blockage and so will need some bypass surgery. Other than this (significant but manageable) problem he is doing well. Daddy was relieved. But still they would leave at 9.00.
Roger drove Jessy in so she would not be late today and then would return for Daddy and Mother and little JJ who was getting dressed though crankily. I made a breakfast for Lisa and helped her get dressed and drove her in myself, a few minutes late, in the Regal and then got myself over to the high school. Of course we get out earlier so I was able, with Jessy, to drive over there and pick up Lisa when she got done. As of right now we are three girls on our own in the castle for probably the rest of the week.
Our uncle is out of his surgery and doing well-- they expect him to be much improved by week's end when they will release him. I rang my aunt in southern New Jersey and got a few updates and got to talk with JJ too. He is having fun with his cousins and does not fully understand the serious issues of his visit there. This is probably best.
I spoke with Daddy too and though he is relieved he is still concerned. 'It could happen to any of us,' he said. 'You always think it'll be the other guy, but it could be you, you know.'
'But you are very healthy,' I told him, 'and you work out and walk and ride the bike. And you don't smoke.'
Our uncle has always smoked cigarettes. It is a source of concern through the whole family. 'Yeah, but I could be better. And they're saying it's not due to the cigarettes.'
'What else would it be due to?' I asked (yes, incorrect grammar and all).
'I don't know. I told him as soon as he gets better we're all starting a fitness routine.'
Daddy already has a fitness routine. As casual as he has always been about other things (diet, paying bills, wearing ironed clothes) he has always enjoyed just doing physical things like walking, running, riding stationary and two-wheeled bicycles and of course swimming. He and I have a little competition on the rowing machine down stairs, trying to improve our 2k times. I am down to about 9:17-- and, by the way, have lost about 2 lbs of holiday-season fat.
Our other uncle tends to be a bit more rigorous in his fitness than either of his elder brothers and we worry perhaps less about his health than anyone's. Tonight they are both at Gran's house farther up in New Jersey and one aunt stays with her husband in hospital and the other is minding four little kids at the farmhouse. All the signs look good and so I have relaxed my own concern and left it all to God. I think sometimes this is all we can do.
For supper Jessy and Lisa (meaning Jessy, with Lisa sitting on the counter asking questions and talking incessantly) made a frozen entree of roast beef with fried mashed potatoes left over from Gran's birthday dinner and cranberry sauce and (mostly cold) broccoli. I planned for tomorrow to have macaroni-and-cheese casserole with the leftover chicken in it. I think we will not starve soon.
Lisa did ask to sleep in with me tonight but as of now she is in Lisa's bed, probably asleep if I care to go look whilst Jessy bangs away on the computer on FaceBook and Twitter and wherever else she needs to broadcast her news to her friends. We made sure Lisa brushed her teeth early because we kind of figured she would end up like this. I will leave my door open on the gallery side anyway in case she comes looking for me at two AM.
Oh, and I wrote a note for the school saying I will be missing first period all week because of getting my little sister to school and of course the teacher and the guidance people were fine with that-- British literature? --my major? --are you kidding? There is another section of the same class during fifth and they asked if I wanted to just sit in on that and miss lunch, but I said no way. Anyway I have the textbook, like I haven't read all that stuff already. And I can write my paper from home.
So we will be all right for the short term. Thanks be to God.
...
We got a phone call very early this morning that my uncle had had a heart attack and had been flown to Philadelphia for surgery. This immediately upset my father to the point of insisting that he drive up there straight away. Little JJ was not even out of bed (and he is an early riser) and Daddy and Mother were packing things and getting ready to go. I stood there stuffing a toasted muffin into my mouth whilst they scurried round with suitcases and so on.
Of course Mother would not let him go alone. They would be taking JJ with them, so that he could stay with our other uncle's family in southern New Jersey for a few days whilst Mother and Daddy went on to Philadelphia. We were fortunate to have had Roger here the last few days-- working on the new (old) Buick project with Daddy, and so they would have him and the dark-green car for the ride. But it meant that I would be left to see little Lisa off to school for the next few mornings, and to arrive late each day myself (as her school starts an hour after mine, so I will miss first and half of second period by the time I get there. But, it cannot be helped).
Before they left this morning we did get another phone call and the news that our uncle had probably not had a true heart attack but that he has significant arterial blockage and so will need some bypass surgery. Other than this (significant but manageable) problem he is doing well. Daddy was relieved. But still they would leave at 9.00.
Roger drove Jessy in so she would not be late today and then would return for Daddy and Mother and little JJ who was getting dressed though crankily. I made a breakfast for Lisa and helped her get dressed and drove her in myself, a few minutes late, in the Regal and then got myself over to the high school. Of course we get out earlier so I was able, with Jessy, to drive over there and pick up Lisa when she got done. As of right now we are three girls on our own in the castle for probably the rest of the week.
Our uncle is out of his surgery and doing well-- they expect him to be much improved by week's end when they will release him. I rang my aunt in southern New Jersey and got a few updates and got to talk with JJ too. He is having fun with his cousins and does not fully understand the serious issues of his visit there. This is probably best.
I spoke with Daddy too and though he is relieved he is still concerned. 'It could happen to any of us,' he said. 'You always think it'll be the other guy, but it could be you, you know.'
'But you are very healthy,' I told him, 'and you work out and walk and ride the bike. And you don't smoke.'
Our uncle has always smoked cigarettes. It is a source of concern through the whole family. 'Yeah, but I could be better. And they're saying it's not due to the cigarettes.'
'What else would it be due to?' I asked (yes, incorrect grammar and all).
'I don't know. I told him as soon as he gets better we're all starting a fitness routine.'
Daddy already has a fitness routine. As casual as he has always been about other things (diet, paying bills, wearing ironed clothes) he has always enjoyed just doing physical things like walking, running, riding stationary and two-wheeled bicycles and of course swimming. He and I have a little competition on the rowing machine down stairs, trying to improve our 2k times. I am down to about 9:17-- and, by the way, have lost about 2 lbs of holiday-season fat.
Our other uncle tends to be a bit more rigorous in his fitness than either of his elder brothers and we worry perhaps less about his health than anyone's. Tonight they are both at Gran's house farther up in New Jersey and one aunt stays with her husband in hospital and the other is minding four little kids at the farmhouse. All the signs look good and so I have relaxed my own concern and left it all to God. I think sometimes this is all we can do.
For supper Jessy and Lisa (meaning Jessy, with Lisa sitting on the counter asking questions and talking incessantly) made a frozen entree of roast beef with fried mashed potatoes left over from Gran's birthday dinner and cranberry sauce and (mostly cold) broccoli. I planned for tomorrow to have macaroni-and-cheese casserole with the leftover chicken in it. I think we will not starve soon.
Lisa did ask to sleep in with me tonight but as of now she is in Lisa's bed, probably asleep if I care to go look whilst Jessy bangs away on the computer on FaceBook and Twitter and wherever else she needs to broadcast her news to her friends. We made sure Lisa brushed her teeth early because we kind of figured she would end up like this. I will leave my door open on the gallery side anyway in case she comes looking for me at two AM.
Oh, and I wrote a note for the school saying I will be missing first period all week because of getting my little sister to school and of course the teacher and the guidance people were fine with that-- British literature? --my major? --are you kidding? There is another section of the same class during fifth and they asked if I wanted to just sit in on that and miss lunch, but I said no way. Anyway I have the textbook, like I haven't read all that stuff already. And I can write my paper from home.
So we will be all right for the short term. Thanks be to God.
...
03 December 2009
Thanksgiving weekend 2009
Our Thanksgiving weekend was very nice. As we have done in the past we drove up to the beach house in New Jersey, which is closer to family. Jessy and I left directly from school, with Roger driving us in the green Cadillac, and we met Lisa, who had have a day, and Mother and Daddy and JJ when we got there. On Thursday morning I helped in the kitchen whilst Jessy played with the little ones. Unfortunately the dining room here is only small, so we set up the other table in the kitchen for the six of us, Daddy's uncle and aunt, Daddy's cousin and his girlfriend, and Gran. Our two uncles were to go elsewhere for the evening-- though we did have a Skype conversation with our cousins after the meal.
Friday was crisp and clear, though I had a bit of a headache from overindulging in turkey and wine and stayed in bed for about half of it. Gran and Daddy's uncle and aunt came back, and with them, our uncle and aunt and cousins, for it was Daddy's birthday. Gran, who was staying with us, made the world's best chocolate cake which Daddy says is the best present he could ever ask for. My headache was gone and I indulged in two pieces (not very big ones though!).
On Saturday the day was a little warmer. Jessy and I had a walk on the beach and then went across town to visit some of our friends from this past summer. At their house we watched 'Twilight' on DVD (since none of us have seen 'New Moon' yet) and had crisps and pizza and soda. When it came time to walk home we were socked that the temperature had dropt about 20 degrees. Jessy and I attempted to brave it and finally ended up running full-tilt against the freezing-cold headwind and even that much exercise was not enough to make us sweat. I swear I went on shivering for half an hour after that.
And then on Sunday we had church on the Island, drove home, and arrived in time for an early-evening supper. It was somewhat warmer and I went online telling people I was in my usual bedtime ensemble, panties and socks and a sweatshirt (sometimes a jersey). Of course I had a nice fire in my room here and plenty of blankets.
Tonight (Monday) has been Mother's birthday. I made a cake using one of my mother's recipes which Mother loves, Jessy and Daddy made dinner (linguine and fish with pesto sauce) and we all sang the song and all. Later Mother's mother rang from Australia (I can never tell what time it is there! --sixteen hours one way or the other).
And, of course, school resumes....
Friday was crisp and clear, though I had a bit of a headache from overindulging in turkey and wine and stayed in bed for about half of it. Gran and Daddy's uncle and aunt came back, and with them, our uncle and aunt and cousins, for it was Daddy's birthday. Gran, who was staying with us, made the world's best chocolate cake which Daddy says is the best present he could ever ask for. My headache was gone and I indulged in two pieces (not very big ones though!).
On Saturday the day was a little warmer. Jessy and I had a walk on the beach and then went across town to visit some of our friends from this past summer. At their house we watched 'Twilight' on DVD (since none of us have seen 'New Moon' yet) and had crisps and pizza and soda. When it came time to walk home we were socked that the temperature had dropt about 20 degrees. Jessy and I attempted to brave it and finally ended up running full-tilt against the freezing-cold headwind and even that much exercise was not enough to make us sweat. I swear I went on shivering for half an hour after that.
And then on Sunday we had church on the Island, drove home, and arrived in time for an early-evening supper. It was somewhat warmer and I went online telling people I was in my usual bedtime ensemble, panties and socks and a sweatshirt (sometimes a jersey). Of course I had a nice fire in my room here and plenty of blankets.
Tonight (Monday) has been Mother's birthday. I made a cake using one of my mother's recipes which Mother loves, Jessy and Daddy made dinner (linguine and fish with pesto sauce) and we all sang the song and all. Later Mother's mother rang from Australia (I can never tell what time it is there! --sixteen hours one way or the other).
And, of course, school resumes....
05 September 2009
Rambles in the heat
Friday, 4 September
It has got hot again. I am lying here on the sofa down stairs at the beach house in New Jersey, hammering away at the trusty old iBook, and I have no clothes on. Jessy, Josie and I got here early this afternoon, after our Ferry ride and after checking on the house, and we were able to avoid the worst of the traffic. The guy on the local radio station said the Causeway was jammed about 11 miles. [sigh] Thank God for not having school yet; else would never have got here in time for our shift at the shop.
We put Josie in one of Jessy's outfits, the cute dark-green paisley bodice with stays and a pretty pale-grey skirt. Dottie put her to work in the verandah (the screened porch that goes round three sides of the place). She had never worked as a waitress before and made $18 in tips tonight. The place was really pumping all evening. We walked down the street in our Colonial outfits and by then it was beastly hot. Those two are up stairs... looking over their FaceBooks I am sure. Josie tends to devote a lot of time to Twitter. I don't see the point and have never done more than glance at it. I have updated my FaceBook with the best pics from our 'underwear glamour show' last weekend and that's enough for me, for now.
Yesterday we three had a delightful day, driving up to Chincoteague in the morning and spending most of the day on the beach there. We all wore swimsuits under shorts and shirts and were able to go out to supper later. All of us went in the water-- it was lovely. We lay on towels near a very nice family and ended up playing with some of the children. There were 4-year-old twin girls and two boys. We made a sandcastle and talked with the mother, who is a Christian from Maryland, a little north of the beach road. They have a vegetable farm and a stand on the road, and they have raised sheepdogs... so I told them about Stephen who has worked at the animal rescue shelter and is now going to UMES. Later some boys our age happened by and struck up a conversation. Jessy and Josie soaked up-- as you may well imagine-- and I just sat and talked with the mother next to us, till the guys had got their eyefuls of Jessy and Josie in bikinis and wandered off. Then the mother said to me, 'Am I keeping you from anything more social?'
I just laughed. 'No. Believe me. I'm fine.'
'Your sister seems to be interested,' she said.
'I'm sure she is.'
'You're not? Pretty girl like you?'
I shrugged, still kneeling in the sand, moulding the sandcastle with both hands for the boys. 'There are two of them. Let them have their fun.'
She laughed. 'All right,' she said.
Later I got up and wandered down to the water by myself. There was a whole row of people standing with ankles in the water, older and younger, and dozens of squealing happy children darting round us all. I stood with my arms folded over my tummy and watched them all or stared out at the horizon. Soon a guy came up and stood beside me. I don't think he was there just because of me-- it was just coincidence that he found that place clear enough to stand and take the shorebreak as it rolled in. He was older than me, maybe 25 or so. You know how it is-- you get the sensation people are looking at you before you actually know for sure that they are. I would think it was conceited of me to assume that, except that it's so often true.
'Hello,' he said to me, his eyes going down where any guy's would have, and then he looked me face-to-face. 'How are you doing, there?'
I shrugged and looked out at the ocean. 'I'm fine,' I said.
One of the little boys from beside our towels ran by and smiled up at me. I waved. 'That's cute,' the man said. 'I mean that he waved at you.'
'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I was just playing with him earlier.'
'Oh,' he said. He hadn't expected that. They never do, you know. Most men want to assume you are wholly unconnected to anyone else. I suppose it makes it easier for them. 'So,' he said, 'last weekend of vacation before classes start?'
I nodded. 'Something like that.'
'I'm from DC,' he told me.
I looked him over then-- clean-cut, short hair, decent shape, dull-looking khaki shorts that were too long, mild tan. Obviously a white-collar type from the city. I nodded then. 'Oh,' I said.
'And where are you from?'
I shrugged again. 'A little south of here,' I said.
'Oh.... Local, huh? I bet this is a nice place to be from.'
'I guess.' I turned then and looked back at Josie and Jessy who were flat on their backs and had not noticed this guy trying to chat me up. I wondered what he would do when he found out how old I was. Then I wondered if he suspected I were safely over 18 or if he would prefer I were not. Then I decided I didn't care to know that much about him, because this wasn't going anywhere other than a friendly chat on the beach.
The man allowed me to stand there on my own for a bit and then turned right to me and asked, 'So, what's your name?'
I shivered a little. Now he was asking for personal information. 'Um,' I said, and then glanced back at the other two. 'Excuse me, please.' And I turned to go back.
'No need to be afraid,' he said, with that patronising look they all get when they like to assume they are in control and you are being 'typically feminine' and feeling intimidated by a man who 'knows what he wants'.
I looked right at him then, still with my arms folded over my tummy. 'I'm not afraid of anything,' I said.
He smirked now at me. 'Then stay here and tell me your name.'
I nodded. 'Please excuse me now.' And I turned to go.
'No excuse for being rude,' he said after me. And I would ignore that.
After I had take a place on the blanket beside Jessy I told them both about him. Sure enough, the both sat up to look. He paid us no mind at all-- then, but later we saw him strolling the beach and he happened to look up our way at us. I saw that smirk again-- but I'm pretty sure he recognised that Jessy and Josie looked younger than I am and that probably made him realise we were all a little too young for him to be expecting tit for tat... or whatever he'd want to call it.
The first rule of being a gentleman is to never importune a lady. Never make her feel uncomfortable, never demand information or favours from her, never treat her like she owes you anything, never do anything that you believe she has to repay. Any man who can't be polite to a lady just for the sake of being polite, period, is no gentleman.
The man on the beach ought to have known I knew more about his age than he assumed about mine, and that I had already decided it was an ineligible match. Sure, I go to the beach to meet nice guys. I usually don't care if they are a little older than I am. I sort of expect it. And yes, it is sometimes flattering. But I don't care for being expected to give out information. And I always find it more charming when the lady introduces herself first. Then she has the choice of offering her hand-- a gentleman should never offer his hand to a lady first, because it's a form of requiring her to do something, in this case to take it. And when I first said 'excuse me' he should have realised he had just required something from me and said, 'I'm sorry'. But, instead, he behaved as most men do and defended his choice to be impertinent. He didn't care about my feelings or anything about me. He only cared about what he wanted-- which may have been just a friendly kind of chat on the beach with a girl in a bikini. But because he didn't care about me at all, he didn't get that.
I e-mailed one of my friends from HOH about it last night and she came back this afternoon telling me I did well. I had been afraid I was only being characteristically snobby and stuck-up, and she was like, 'What did he want? Where did he come from? Why did he chat up you? How long was he looking at you before?' And I got the impression from what she made me think about and how the so-called conversation had gone that he probably had chosen me to stop beside and speak to. That's a little creepy. And so I am glad I went back to the others and ended an already-awkward exchange.
We went back to the car without getting dressed and stopped at McDonald's for drive-through. By then those two had shimmied into their shorts at least-- I had not because I was driving. The guy in the drive-through window looked straight down at me. I didn't mind-- I am sure he sees girls in swimsuits all the time. So it was only at the Dollar General that I pulled on the shorts to get out of the car.
I am grateful for Josie because she shares our sense of self-respect and modesty. I know she likes to flirt a little-- she is, of course, a Gemini!! --but she is a very decent sort of girl and no one can fault her too much for appreciating a certain level of attention. With Jessy and me she is always a perfect lady.
Today we drove up Rt 13 in our swimsuits in the car, and when we got on the Ferry we went up to the top deck and sat out in the sun. People laughed-- but we were hardly the first people do to such a thing. Mother admitted she had done it when she was my age here too. A couple of people stared at us like we were nuts-- but really the day was perfect for it, and who could blame us? When we got to the house we had time to stroll the beach a bit before returning to dress in the Colonial outfits for the shop. Josie was actually embarrassed when Jessy and I told her we don't wear anything under the skirts. 'Really?'
We both laughed. 'Josie,' I said, 'you mean you never heard that?' I was naked and pulling on the shift then. 'Panties aren't old-fashioned, love.'
And we helped her get dressed, lacing up the bodice and the top of the shift and so on. Suddenly she was excited. And as we walked up the street to the shop people waved and hooted horns at us, as we do, and she finally leaned over and whispered, 'I feel so hot.'
'Hot?' I teased. 'I would have thought it'd been cooler than you're used to.'
But then she surprised me. 'After half a summer with you two? No, I'm very comfortable without, Janine.' And we all laughed.
Now it is very late and this laptop in my lap is making me feel feverish from its own heat. I shall go now. More later--
...
It has got hot again. I am lying here on the sofa down stairs at the beach house in New Jersey, hammering away at the trusty old iBook, and I have no clothes on. Jessy, Josie and I got here early this afternoon, after our Ferry ride and after checking on the house, and we were able to avoid the worst of the traffic. The guy on the local radio station said the Causeway was jammed about 11 miles. [sigh] Thank God for not having school yet; else would never have got here in time for our shift at the shop.
We put Josie in one of Jessy's outfits, the cute dark-green paisley bodice with stays and a pretty pale-grey skirt. Dottie put her to work in the verandah (the screened porch that goes round three sides of the place). She had never worked as a waitress before and made $18 in tips tonight. The place was really pumping all evening. We walked down the street in our Colonial outfits and by then it was beastly hot. Those two are up stairs... looking over their FaceBooks I am sure. Josie tends to devote a lot of time to Twitter. I don't see the point and have never done more than glance at it. I have updated my FaceBook with the best pics from our 'underwear glamour show' last weekend and that's enough for me, for now.
Yesterday we three had a delightful day, driving up to Chincoteague in the morning and spending most of the day on the beach there. We all wore swimsuits under shorts and shirts and were able to go out to supper later. All of us went in the water-- it was lovely. We lay on towels near a very nice family and ended up playing with some of the children. There were 4-year-old twin girls and two boys. We made a sandcastle and talked with the mother, who is a Christian from Maryland, a little north of the beach road. They have a vegetable farm and a stand on the road, and they have raised sheepdogs... so I told them about Stephen who has worked at the animal rescue shelter and is now going to UMES. Later some boys our age happened by and struck up a conversation. Jessy and Josie soaked up-- as you may well imagine-- and I just sat and talked with the mother next to us, till the guys had got their eyefuls of Jessy and Josie in bikinis and wandered off. Then the mother said to me, 'Am I keeping you from anything more social?'
I just laughed. 'No. Believe me. I'm fine.'
'Your sister seems to be interested,' she said.
'I'm sure she is.'
'You're not? Pretty girl like you?'
I shrugged, still kneeling in the sand, moulding the sandcastle with both hands for the boys. 'There are two of them. Let them have their fun.'
She laughed. 'All right,' she said.
Later I got up and wandered down to the water by myself. There was a whole row of people standing with ankles in the water, older and younger, and dozens of squealing happy children darting round us all. I stood with my arms folded over my tummy and watched them all or stared out at the horizon. Soon a guy came up and stood beside me. I don't think he was there just because of me-- it was just coincidence that he found that place clear enough to stand and take the shorebreak as it rolled in. He was older than me, maybe 25 or so. You know how it is-- you get the sensation people are looking at you before you actually know for sure that they are. I would think it was conceited of me to assume that, except that it's so often true.
'Hello,' he said to me, his eyes going down where any guy's would have, and then he looked me face-to-face. 'How are you doing, there?'
I shrugged and looked out at the ocean. 'I'm fine,' I said.
One of the little boys from beside our towels ran by and smiled up at me. I waved. 'That's cute,' the man said. 'I mean that he waved at you.'
'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I was just playing with him earlier.'
'Oh,' he said. He hadn't expected that. They never do, you know. Most men want to assume you are wholly unconnected to anyone else. I suppose it makes it easier for them. 'So,' he said, 'last weekend of vacation before classes start?'
I nodded. 'Something like that.'
'I'm from DC,' he told me.
I looked him over then-- clean-cut, short hair, decent shape, dull-looking khaki shorts that were too long, mild tan. Obviously a white-collar type from the city. I nodded then. 'Oh,' I said.
'And where are you from?'
I shrugged again. 'A little south of here,' I said.
'Oh.... Local, huh? I bet this is a nice place to be from.'
'I guess.' I turned then and looked back at Josie and Jessy who were flat on their backs and had not noticed this guy trying to chat me up. I wondered what he would do when he found out how old I was. Then I wondered if he suspected I were safely over 18 or if he would prefer I were not. Then I decided I didn't care to know that much about him, because this wasn't going anywhere other than a friendly chat on the beach.
The man allowed me to stand there on my own for a bit and then turned right to me and asked, 'So, what's your name?'
I shivered a little. Now he was asking for personal information. 'Um,' I said, and then glanced back at the other two. 'Excuse me, please.' And I turned to go back.
'No need to be afraid,' he said, with that patronising look they all get when they like to assume they are in control and you are being 'typically feminine' and feeling intimidated by a man who 'knows what he wants'.
I looked right at him then, still with my arms folded over my tummy. 'I'm not afraid of anything,' I said.
He smirked now at me. 'Then stay here and tell me your name.'
I nodded. 'Please excuse me now.' And I turned to go.
'No excuse for being rude,' he said after me. And I would ignore that.
After I had take a place on the blanket beside Jessy I told them both about him. Sure enough, the both sat up to look. He paid us no mind at all-- then, but later we saw him strolling the beach and he happened to look up our way at us. I saw that smirk again-- but I'm pretty sure he recognised that Jessy and Josie looked younger than I am and that probably made him realise we were all a little too young for him to be expecting tit for tat... or whatever he'd want to call it.
The first rule of being a gentleman is to never importune a lady. Never make her feel uncomfortable, never demand information or favours from her, never treat her like she owes you anything, never do anything that you believe she has to repay. Any man who can't be polite to a lady just for the sake of being polite, period, is no gentleman.
The man on the beach ought to have known I knew more about his age than he assumed about mine, and that I had already decided it was an ineligible match. Sure, I go to the beach to meet nice guys. I usually don't care if they are a little older than I am. I sort of expect it. And yes, it is sometimes flattering. But I don't care for being expected to give out information. And I always find it more charming when the lady introduces herself first. Then she has the choice of offering her hand-- a gentleman should never offer his hand to a lady first, because it's a form of requiring her to do something, in this case to take it. And when I first said 'excuse me' he should have realised he had just required something from me and said, 'I'm sorry'. But, instead, he behaved as most men do and defended his choice to be impertinent. He didn't care about my feelings or anything about me. He only cared about what he wanted-- which may have been just a friendly kind of chat on the beach with a girl in a bikini. But because he didn't care about me at all, he didn't get that.
I e-mailed one of my friends from HOH about it last night and she came back this afternoon telling me I did well. I had been afraid I was only being characteristically snobby and stuck-up, and she was like, 'What did he want? Where did he come from? Why did he chat up you? How long was he looking at you before?' And I got the impression from what she made me think about and how the so-called conversation had gone that he probably had chosen me to stop beside and speak to. That's a little creepy. And so I am glad I went back to the others and ended an already-awkward exchange.
We went back to the car without getting dressed and stopped at McDonald's for drive-through. By then those two had shimmied into their shorts at least-- I had not because I was driving. The guy in the drive-through window looked straight down at me. I didn't mind-- I am sure he sees girls in swimsuits all the time. So it was only at the Dollar General that I pulled on the shorts to get out of the car.
I am grateful for Josie because she shares our sense of self-respect and modesty. I know she likes to flirt a little-- she is, of course, a Gemini!! --but she is a very decent sort of girl and no one can fault her too much for appreciating a certain level of attention. With Jessy and me she is always a perfect lady.
Today we drove up Rt 13 in our swimsuits in the car, and when we got on the Ferry we went up to the top deck and sat out in the sun. People laughed-- but we were hardly the first people do to such a thing. Mother admitted she had done it when she was my age here too. A couple of people stared at us like we were nuts-- but really the day was perfect for it, and who could blame us? When we got to the house we had time to stroll the beach a bit before returning to dress in the Colonial outfits for the shop. Josie was actually embarrassed when Jessy and I told her we don't wear anything under the skirts. 'Really?'
We both laughed. 'Josie,' I said, 'you mean you never heard that?' I was naked and pulling on the shift then. 'Panties aren't old-fashioned, love.'
And we helped her get dressed, lacing up the bodice and the top of the shift and so on. Suddenly she was excited. And as we walked up the street to the shop people waved and hooted horns at us, as we do, and she finally leaned over and whispered, 'I feel so hot.'
'Hot?' I teased. 'I would have thought it'd been cooler than you're used to.'
But then she surprised me. 'After half a summer with you two? No, I'm very comfortable without, Janine.' And we all laughed.
Now it is very late and this laptop in my lap is making me feel feverish from its own heat. I shall go now. More later--
...
02 September 2009
Windows and the soul
Tuesday 1 September 2009
We have beautiful windows in this house. Daddy, the architectural purist, got them from a place that does traditional-house restorations. They are true early-1700s-style, with the correct flat 1-inch-wide mullions. They are not 'double-hung'-- only the bottom sash slides up. They are single-glazed (one piece of glass per pane), not double, so we rely on real inside shutters for added insulation against the cold (and for security). All the panes are the same size-- in the Colonial period the carpenters orded glass panes from England and made the windows to fit them. And they do not have regular full-sized screens.
All three of our houses, the one in New Jersey, the one in Delaware, and Terncote here, have the same kind of windows. When he was building the beach house in New Jersey, which was the first one, Daddy devised a system by which the screen only covers the bottom sash and the sash slides down outside it. The sash has pins that you slide into the frame to lock the window in place. The screen has pins you can slide back to remove it. I usually leave my windows locked up at the first notch (about 12 inches). My room is up stairs so no one can get in and there's just enough of the sea air to make the room very pleasant day and night.
It was very late when I went to bed (actually early this morning-- I won't say what hour!). I had left the door to the side gallery open as usual and the windows at the first notch, and the room was cool but not chilly. At about 6.00 am I found myself incomprehensibly awake. The dawn sunlight beamed in from above the ocean in a brilliant white light. Outside, birds were chirping. Trees in the side yards hissed in the breeze. The bay lapped patiently at the bulkhead. Far out across the channel and the island, the surf along the beach was the incessant white noise that is a background to everything you hear here. And I lay on my back in the bed, sleepy but alert, my legs apart under the sheet draped lightly over my naked body. I was intensely comfortable.
The inevitable came over me and I soon found myself massaging gently, with the sheet pushed down past where my hand needed to be. It got very powerful very fast and soon I was pushing harder and harder and getting anxious. I whined a few times-- I had not thought I could have been too loud till I realised Jessy was looking in from the door. Seeing me so engaged she whispered, 'Are you all right?'
I only murmurred impatiently, still going.
She nodded and tiptoed into the room, looking round for a moment. I usually sleep on my back with the empty pillow to my left, and she sat there on the edge of the bed and kind of watched me go on. Oh, she knows what I look like doing this, especially what my hand was doing. She looked down on my face with a sweet expression half of sympathy and half of devotion, the kind of devotion only a sister can have. I went on, holding my left arm up over my head, holding back my hair I guess, and wriggled a little to give my other hand more room. I think I whined again-- it was so slow in coming!
'Do you want me to help you?' she whispered, looking down into my eyes.
That gave me a start. 'Help me?' What did she mean?
She nodded and reached up and took my free hand, pressing it tenderly between her palms. 'Just relax. You're doing fine.' And she smiled a little.
I nodded, nearly breathless, and slowed down just a little. That did help. I had been too impatient.
'There, there,' she said, squeezing my hand.
'Oh, Jessy....' I sighed very deeply, relaxing, and it came.
She held me for the whole thing, till I was done trying and had no strength left to fight back the aftermath. When I had given it over she turned round and looked about the room, at the windows standing open, at the morning sun streaming in, at my pretty light-blue sheets pushed down till they covered my thighs and no higher, and at my hand still in place, my palm covering myself as though I were trying to be modest. And she looked back down at me and smiled. 'If you need for me to bring you anything, I will.'
I smiled up at her with a happy sigh. 'No. You don't have to. I'm fine.'
She leaned down and kissed my forehead, patted my hand and then let go, turning on her bare bottom and getting to her feet. 'I'll bring this closed, just a little, then... if you want.'
I nodded. 'Thank you, sweetie.' We met eyes then. 'I love you.'
She responded to that immediately. 'I love you too.' And then she tiptoed out, like an angel, as silently as she had come in, leaving me grateful for my afterglow.
...
We have beautiful windows in this house. Daddy, the architectural purist, got them from a place that does traditional-house restorations. They are true early-1700s-style, with the correct flat 1-inch-wide mullions. They are not 'double-hung'-- only the bottom sash slides up. They are single-glazed (one piece of glass per pane), not double, so we rely on real inside shutters for added insulation against the cold (and for security). All the panes are the same size-- in the Colonial period the carpenters orded glass panes from England and made the windows to fit them. And they do not have regular full-sized screens.
All three of our houses, the one in New Jersey, the one in Delaware, and Terncote here, have the same kind of windows. When he was building the beach house in New Jersey, which was the first one, Daddy devised a system by which the screen only covers the bottom sash and the sash slides down outside it. The sash has pins that you slide into the frame to lock the window in place. The screen has pins you can slide back to remove it. I usually leave my windows locked up at the first notch (about 12 inches). My room is up stairs so no one can get in and there's just enough of the sea air to make the room very pleasant day and night.
It was very late when I went to bed (actually early this morning-- I won't say what hour!). I had left the door to the side gallery open as usual and the windows at the first notch, and the room was cool but not chilly. At about 6.00 am I found myself incomprehensibly awake. The dawn sunlight beamed in from above the ocean in a brilliant white light. Outside, birds were chirping. Trees in the side yards hissed in the breeze. The bay lapped patiently at the bulkhead. Far out across the channel and the island, the surf along the beach was the incessant white noise that is a background to everything you hear here. And I lay on my back in the bed, sleepy but alert, my legs apart under the sheet draped lightly over my naked body. I was intensely comfortable.
The inevitable came over me and I soon found myself massaging gently, with the sheet pushed down past where my hand needed to be. It got very powerful very fast and soon I was pushing harder and harder and getting anxious. I whined a few times-- I had not thought I could have been too loud till I realised Jessy was looking in from the door. Seeing me so engaged she whispered, 'Are you all right?'
I only murmurred impatiently, still going.
She nodded and tiptoed into the room, looking round for a moment. I usually sleep on my back with the empty pillow to my left, and she sat there on the edge of the bed and kind of watched me go on. Oh, she knows what I look like doing this, especially what my hand was doing. She looked down on my face with a sweet expression half of sympathy and half of devotion, the kind of devotion only a sister can have. I went on, holding my left arm up over my head, holding back my hair I guess, and wriggled a little to give my other hand more room. I think I whined again-- it was so slow in coming!
'Do you want me to help you?' she whispered, looking down into my eyes.
That gave me a start. 'Help me?' What did she mean?
She nodded and reached up and took my free hand, pressing it tenderly between her palms. 'Just relax. You're doing fine.' And she smiled a little.
I nodded, nearly breathless, and slowed down just a little. That did help. I had been too impatient.
'There, there,' she said, squeezing my hand.
'Oh, Jessy....' I sighed very deeply, relaxing, and it came.
She held me for the whole thing, till I was done trying and had no strength left to fight back the aftermath. When I had given it over she turned round and looked about the room, at the windows standing open, at the morning sun streaming in, at my pretty light-blue sheets pushed down till they covered my thighs and no higher, and at my hand still in place, my palm covering myself as though I were trying to be modest. And she looked back down at me and smiled. 'If you need for me to bring you anything, I will.'
I smiled up at her with a happy sigh. 'No. You don't have to. I'm fine.'
She leaned down and kissed my forehead, patted my hand and then let go, turning on her bare bottom and getting to her feet. 'I'll bring this closed, just a little, then... if you want.'
I nodded. 'Thank you, sweetie.' We met eyes then. 'I love you.'
She responded to that immediately. 'I love you too.' And then she tiptoed out, like an angel, as silently as she had come in, leaving me grateful for my afterglow.
...
30 August 2009
More intense decompression
Thursday, 27 August 2009
Under threat of a drizzle I came inside and am sitting here in my room, my usual room, up stairs at Terncote in Virginia. It has been a very dizzying three weeks! But England is always England and that is the best part about it, so it is worth any amount of airplane rides and waiting in queues. Daddy said once, after his first tour there, in the '80s, that there'll always be an England because people in England say that there'll always be an England. Or, as people would say now, it is what it is. And that is why you go to see it.
A few things changed in the year since we were there last. Of course the house we had taken is let again, this time to a nice American doctor and his wife whom everyone knows and likes. It is a lovely all-brick multi-gabled house from about 1870 with a red-gravel garden walk and a bright blue door above which is the room Jessy and I had for two years. There is a dovecote in the eave, there are mice in the garage and rabbits live under the back steps. In back is a garden that trips down gentle terracing to the preserve, which is mostly overgrown behind the house but spreads out into a marvellous copse of wild fruit trees and thick green grass. I used to wander out there by myself and take off my clothes and inhale the sweet wet fragrances of the woods, and it was like I was getting high on the whole idea of being there, being naked, being free and happy, and being myself (which of course is how I am since we have come back and have lived here). Once on a fine English summer afternoon I lay down naked in a bed of that thick grass and stared up through a few gaps in the trees at the clouds passing by, and I was there over an hour like that till I realised people would be wondering about me. It is a unique memory-- for I only ever got to do that once-- and something I know only I will ever appreciate. But it is the kind of innocent indulgence that Jessy and I do here, now, and I know that no one else really fully understands it.
Our friends from HOH have all moved along with their lives-- some are dating new people, some are not dating any more, some have left the school, which is very sad. English schools thrive on people being committed to them, but it is always a case of 'school choice' as it is called here, and there are always times when someone leaves before 5th or 6th year and is missed horribly. Even less welcome, I did run into Henry, the boy I dated during 4th and part of 5th year, who is a year older and having completed 6th form, with honours, moves on to university. 'You look well, Janine,' he said to me. I blushed (WHY?). I do look well. From so much sun I am tanner and my face is clearer and I am probably a little better shaped, but his opinion can't possibly matter to me now. Still I suppose it was inevitable we would meet, if only at the food court in the shopping arcade, and I handled it as well as I could have. My journal from that time is still kept in handwritten notes and is not on this computer. I let my stepmother read it once and she got as far as the part when Henry was petting me under my skirt and I had not said 'no' yet, and she put it away and said, 'No, thank you, Janine!' I giggled at that at the time because her journal, most of which she has let me read, is somewhat racier than mine could ever have been (I won't say in what way!) and like hers mine is only honest and accurate, you know. I felt at the time that Henry's 'attempts' (for no, he was never successful in what he wanted from me) were important enough to be included. Now when I look back on it it's pretty embarrassing. This happens to girls all the time, and it's little more than a mild nuisance, and here I was in my journal making it into a momentous occasion. But it was a first for me, and at the time I had wondered how it would be, for the rest of my life, to be able to say that a not-so-blessed event had taken place during my family's two-year stay in England... and how many girls could have said that?
I consider that such an event would have been much worse than 'not so blessed' and it didn't happen there and hasn't here either, and, since Henry has no way of knowing that, I revel in his uncertainty. He may accuse me of 'going back to my own kind' all he wants now. What I have gained from having lived there far outweighs what I would have lost had I followed his wishes.
Also I had on a great little pale-green twill skirt and my sleeveless navy cotton top and looked great that day in the arcade (Jessy said some other guys were watching me). So Henry can suffer.
Speaking of Jessy she did-- well, after we had arrived at Lady B's- let me know that a certain little-more blessed event had taken place when she went in to change and wash up in the airplane toilet on the way over. We had taken a change of things for the ride, just to arrive feeling fresh. I had not really taken advantage of it, feeling much too sleepy (I napped in Lady B's car halfway up the A11) and you know the experience of getting out of everything in the tiny airplane toilet just to change your panties is just too much effort. Last time I tried it I bumped the latch on the door and it opened (only a little) and that was too disconcerting to forget this time. But Jessy climbed past my seat and went in there with her little bag, and of course, being Jessy, she took much more advantage of the opportunity than I had expected. She told me that night in bed.
'You didn't!' I said.
She nodded, somewhat proud of herself.
'That's why you were in there so long?'
'It almost didn't come,' she said. 'And then it got frustrating.'
'You didn't have to!' I said.
'Yes, but I wanted to try it, to say I've done it.'
I giggled. 'How was it?'
She shrugged in the bed. 'It got pretty hard to keep my mouth shut.'
Airplane toilets are hardly secure, you know. One must be very quiet no matter what business you are doing.
'So were you short of breath?' I teased. You know, because the air in an airliner is pressurised only to about 8000 feet, so it would be like doing it whilst up in the Rockies. Hence the expression 'mile-high club'.
'Yes,' she said. 'But not because of the cabin.'
I laughed at her. Well-- that is one event she can say for ever that she's done.
There were many more adventures we had on our trip and I will attempt to relate some of them as this blog proceeds. For now I will say that when we got in to Philadelphia on Tuesday evening we were all very exhausted and drove out to the beach house (in NJ) straight away, where there was a party of some friends and relatives that went quite late. Little J.J. slept through it all-- he tends to sleep very well. I, typically for a twit, attempted to live a perfectly normal life in Greenwich DST+5 till Wednesday morning when Jessy and I walked over the dune to the beach and I fell asleep on the blanket for about two or three hours. Passing people thought I was dead. Jessy covered me with a towel against the sun and explained to two men who passed by that I was not hung over, that it was only jet lag. But in a way what the men assumed was correct too, for I am still coming down from the reverie of having been to England again.
This morning Roger arrived and drove Jessy and me home to Terncote in order than we may keep some engagements, specifically a dinner with the girls' club tonight. As the car pulled up in the yard I kicked off my shoes. As we walked up the steps I unbuttoned the shirt. We carried our own bags in to the house, leaving Roger to take the car back on his own. Jessy went round opening windows in the back to the sea air. I dropped my bags in the front hall with the shirt. I peeled down my shorts and left them in the parlour. I opened the French windows and went out, prising off the bra and leaving it on the step. I shimmied out of the panties on the terrace and dove straight into the pool. Jessy came out and giggled at me. But I felt absolutely great and within ten minutes, after she had joined me, I was swimming my 'usual' 25 laps. Today I did 30. And I still feel great.
Now I sit here in my room, not having got dressed, revelling in all that has happened in this very long and still-incomplete blog. Well-- I have two weeks left in which to finish it before school begins!
And I still haven't picked up my clothes.
...
Under threat of a drizzle I came inside and am sitting here in my room, my usual room, up stairs at Terncote in Virginia. It has been a very dizzying three weeks! But England is always England and that is the best part about it, so it is worth any amount of airplane rides and waiting in queues. Daddy said once, after his first tour there, in the '80s, that there'll always be an England because people in England say that there'll always be an England. Or, as people would say now, it is what it is. And that is why you go to see it.
A few things changed in the year since we were there last. Of course the house we had taken is let again, this time to a nice American doctor and his wife whom everyone knows and likes. It is a lovely all-brick multi-gabled house from about 1870 with a red-gravel garden walk and a bright blue door above which is the room Jessy and I had for two years. There is a dovecote in the eave, there are mice in the garage and rabbits live under the back steps. In back is a garden that trips down gentle terracing to the preserve, which is mostly overgrown behind the house but spreads out into a marvellous copse of wild fruit trees and thick green grass. I used to wander out there by myself and take off my clothes and inhale the sweet wet fragrances of the woods, and it was like I was getting high on the whole idea of being there, being naked, being free and happy, and being myself (which of course is how I am since we have come back and have lived here). Once on a fine English summer afternoon I lay down naked in a bed of that thick grass and stared up through a few gaps in the trees at the clouds passing by, and I was there over an hour like that till I realised people would be wondering about me. It is a unique memory-- for I only ever got to do that once-- and something I know only I will ever appreciate. But it is the kind of innocent indulgence that Jessy and I do here, now, and I know that no one else really fully understands it.
Our friends from HOH have all moved along with their lives-- some are dating new people, some are not dating any more, some have left the school, which is very sad. English schools thrive on people being committed to them, but it is always a case of 'school choice' as it is called here, and there are always times when someone leaves before 5th or 6th year and is missed horribly. Even less welcome, I did run into Henry, the boy I dated during 4th and part of 5th year, who is a year older and having completed 6th form, with honours, moves on to university. 'You look well, Janine,' he said to me. I blushed (WHY?). I do look well. From so much sun I am tanner and my face is clearer and I am probably a little better shaped, but his opinion can't possibly matter to me now. Still I suppose it was inevitable we would meet, if only at the food court in the shopping arcade, and I handled it as well as I could have. My journal from that time is still kept in handwritten notes and is not on this computer. I let my stepmother read it once and she got as far as the part when Henry was petting me under my skirt and I had not said 'no' yet, and she put it away and said, 'No, thank you, Janine!' I giggled at that at the time because her journal, most of which she has let me read, is somewhat racier than mine could ever have been (I won't say in what way!) and like hers mine is only honest and accurate, you know. I felt at the time that Henry's 'attempts' (for no, he was never successful in what he wanted from me) were important enough to be included. Now when I look back on it it's pretty embarrassing. This happens to girls all the time, and it's little more than a mild nuisance, and here I was in my journal making it into a momentous occasion. But it was a first for me, and at the time I had wondered how it would be, for the rest of my life, to be able to say that a not-so-blessed event had taken place during my family's two-year stay in England... and how many girls could have said that?
I consider that such an event would have been much worse than 'not so blessed' and it didn't happen there and hasn't here either, and, since Henry has no way of knowing that, I revel in his uncertainty. He may accuse me of 'going back to my own kind' all he wants now. What I have gained from having lived there far outweighs what I would have lost had I followed his wishes.
Also I had on a great little pale-green twill skirt and my sleeveless navy cotton top and looked great that day in the arcade (Jessy said some other guys were watching me). So Henry can suffer.
Speaking of Jessy she did-- well, after we had arrived at Lady B's- let me know that a certain little-more blessed event had taken place when she went in to change and wash up in the airplane toilet on the way over. We had taken a change of things for the ride, just to arrive feeling fresh. I had not really taken advantage of it, feeling much too sleepy (I napped in Lady B's car halfway up the A11) and you know the experience of getting out of everything in the tiny airplane toilet just to change your panties is just too much effort. Last time I tried it I bumped the latch on the door and it opened (only a little) and that was too disconcerting to forget this time. But Jessy climbed past my seat and went in there with her little bag, and of course, being Jessy, she took much more advantage of the opportunity than I had expected. She told me that night in bed.
'You didn't!' I said.
She nodded, somewhat proud of herself.
'That's why you were in there so long?'
'It almost didn't come,' she said. 'And then it got frustrating.'
'You didn't have to!' I said.
'Yes, but I wanted to try it, to say I've done it.'
I giggled. 'How was it?'
She shrugged in the bed. 'It got pretty hard to keep my mouth shut.'
Airplane toilets are hardly secure, you know. One must be very quiet no matter what business you are doing.
'So were you short of breath?' I teased. You know, because the air in an airliner is pressurised only to about 8000 feet, so it would be like doing it whilst up in the Rockies. Hence the expression 'mile-high club'.
'Yes,' she said. 'But not because of the cabin.'
I laughed at her. Well-- that is one event she can say for ever that she's done.
There were many more adventures we had on our trip and I will attempt to relate some of them as this blog proceeds. For now I will say that when we got in to Philadelphia on Tuesday evening we were all very exhausted and drove out to the beach house (in NJ) straight away, where there was a party of some friends and relatives that went quite late. Little J.J. slept through it all-- he tends to sleep very well. I, typically for a twit, attempted to live a perfectly normal life in Greenwich DST+5 till Wednesday morning when Jessy and I walked over the dune to the beach and I fell asleep on the blanket for about two or three hours. Passing people thought I was dead. Jessy covered me with a towel against the sun and explained to two men who passed by that I was not hung over, that it was only jet lag. But in a way what the men assumed was correct too, for I am still coming down from the reverie of having been to England again.
This morning Roger arrived and drove Jessy and me home to Terncote in order than we may keep some engagements, specifically a dinner with the girls' club tonight. As the car pulled up in the yard I kicked off my shoes. As we walked up the steps I unbuttoned the shirt. We carried our own bags in to the house, leaving Roger to take the car back on his own. Jessy went round opening windows in the back to the sea air. I dropped my bags in the front hall with the shirt. I peeled down my shorts and left them in the parlour. I opened the French windows and went out, prising off the bra and leaving it on the step. I shimmied out of the panties on the terrace and dove straight into the pool. Jessy came out and giggled at me. But I felt absolutely great and within ten minutes, after she had joined me, I was swimming my 'usual' 25 laps. Today I did 30. And I still feel great.
Now I sit here in my room, not having got dressed, revelling in all that has happened in this very long and still-incomplete blog. Well-- I have two weeks left in which to finish it before school begins!
And I still haven't picked up my clothes.
...
03 August 2009
Janine's final faux pas
Monday 3 August 2009
This morning Jessy and I were on the beach, just having a nice long walk as a kind of farewell to the whole place, you know. I had on my blue-and-white-and-grey-print swimsuit, which is kind of new, and Jessy had the deep purple/maroon-coloured one, a beautifully rich colour that really looks good on her figure and suntan. We walked up about three jetties and turned round to come back. The place was utterly crowded, people everywhere, skimboarding, boogie-boarding, rafting, swimming, diving, running, jumping, and always the squealing, giggling, laughing, shrieking that makes a public beach at a popular resort town what it really is. You don't go here to be alone, and you don't go here to be anonymous.
We were almost back to the house and had begun thinking about turning up into the softer sand when we noticed a man standing directly ahead of us, turned towards the water but with his head turned to stare straight at us. I guess it is not unusual to expect that some middle-aged guy would stare at two chicks in bikinis at the beach. I mean really-- it happens all the time, you know, and I know I don't have to be an absolute goddess to get this kind of attention. It just happens. It's what Daddy calls 'sexual discrimination'-- that a member of one sex can discriminate between the sexes and recognise a member of the other sex. It'd be a pretty barren world if he didn't!
So this guy was staring straight at us like he recognised us, and not just as a pair of female bodies, you know. I was on Jessy's right, closer to the house, and right before I started to step up into the soft sand the guy put out his hand, waving to us. I hesitated-- I wouldn't be rude, you know. Was this some friend of Daddy's who knew us?
'Hello!' he called, when we were about five yards away. At that point there was no escaping this. We slowed down and had almost stopped and the guy turned to us and said, 'It's really you, then, isn't it?'
'What?' we both said together.
He smiled at us, me especially. 'Janine, right?'
I went red. How would he know--?
'And you must be Jessy. I see what you meant, Janine. She is beautiful. But you're no less-- in spite of whatever you say. You don't disappoint, that's for sure.'
And he was checking me out then-- head to toe and back again. I frowned. 'I'm sorry--'
Then he made this frighteningly smug smile. 'Janine, it's R---.' And he gave his name. He's one of the guys I have been chatting with on AOL.
I suppose this was inevitable. I mean, I put enough information out there that anyone could find me if he just thought about it hard enough. It's because I'm not really hiding. But neither do I expect to be stalked, you know.
'I was by the ice-cream parlour. The other day... they said you weren't scheduled.'
I nodded. 'I'm not.'
'I was hoping to see you in your Colonial costume.'
'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I'm.... We're going home. Today.'
'Ohhh. And I thought we could spend some time, get to know each other at last.'
I swallowed. No, I thought. There are guys I chat with online whom I like a lot-- this was not one of them. In fact this guy is someone I tend to avoid... now I presume I shall have to block him.
'I was standing here, trying to pick out which is your house,' he said, and he turned round and looked up at the houses along the dune line, four to a block. 'I have it narrowed down to... that one, that one, and that one down there. They're three storeys.'
Two of the ones he picked were ours and the one we own next to it, to rent out. I felt terrible. Have I really got so sloppy after all? The one blessing from God was that we were leaving this afternoon. 'Well, R---, I really need to be going-- we have a long ride coming up--'
'So you're going back to Virginia? Is it far? I think you said four hours.'
Great. Will he follow us? Jessy turned and took my hand then. 'Janine,' she said softly, 'let's go.'
I nodded, allowing her to step between R--- and me, tugging me up the beach. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'We're really pressed for time--'
'But you can have a walk on the beach, then?' he said, and then turned and took a few steps after us.
I realised though that he was watching some small children and couldn't easily just leave. That was lucky. 'I'm sorry, R---. Some other time maybe.'
He would still talk at me as I walked away. 'Really, after all this time.... I just kind of thought that--'
But we were gone then. Jessy still held my hand-- in fact now she squeezed it. 'Is he still behind us?' I worried.
'I don't know,' she said, closing her teeth together. 'And I don't care.'
I nodded. 'I'm sorry.' I glanced over my shoulder. The guy was still standing there, staring up the beach at us. Jessy was heading straight for our house. That's all I would need. 'He's still there,' I said.
She clenched my hand more tightly. 'Explanation?'
That was not a request-- it was a demand. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'It's the blog. I just say things, you know. No one's ever got that close--'
'That guy has probably been here all summer waiting to recognise you,' she said. 'He'll know the house now, see your car, everything.'
'We'll we're going to Virginia in about three hours!'
'You'd better not give out that address too.'
'I don't!'
'And pictures?'
I squeezed her hand then. 'Jessy! I have never sent out my picture! You have more people stalking you on FaceBook than I have on AOL!.'
She shrugged. 'Well, that's FaceBook. It's private.'
'Not so private when you let friends of friends of friends be friends.'
She made a wry face. When we were over the dune we ran for the kitchen door, had quick showers in the garage, and ran up stairs to the third floor, where we crouched in the low attic that is Lisa's and J.J.'s room and peered out the little window. Sure enough, we made him out-- he was there, only not looking up at the house. 'We're not going to be able to show our faces round here ever again,' I said.
'We're going to England. And you're going to block him, and then delete all the posts that identify this place.'
'Yes, Jessy.'
I wonder if that means this one now!
...
This morning Jessy and I were on the beach, just having a nice long walk as a kind of farewell to the whole place, you know. I had on my blue-and-white-and-grey-print swimsuit, which is kind of new, and Jessy had the deep purple/maroon-coloured one, a beautifully rich colour that really looks good on her figure and suntan. We walked up about three jetties and turned round to come back. The place was utterly crowded, people everywhere, skimboarding, boogie-boarding, rafting, swimming, diving, running, jumping, and always the squealing, giggling, laughing, shrieking that makes a public beach at a popular resort town what it really is. You don't go here to be alone, and you don't go here to be anonymous.
We were almost back to the house and had begun thinking about turning up into the softer sand when we noticed a man standing directly ahead of us, turned towards the water but with his head turned to stare straight at us. I guess it is not unusual to expect that some middle-aged guy would stare at two chicks in bikinis at the beach. I mean really-- it happens all the time, you know, and I know I don't have to be an absolute goddess to get this kind of attention. It just happens. It's what Daddy calls 'sexual discrimination'-- that a member of one sex can discriminate between the sexes and recognise a member of the other sex. It'd be a pretty barren world if he didn't!
So this guy was staring straight at us like he recognised us, and not just as a pair of female bodies, you know. I was on Jessy's right, closer to the house, and right before I started to step up into the soft sand the guy put out his hand, waving to us. I hesitated-- I wouldn't be rude, you know. Was this some friend of Daddy's who knew us?
'Hello!' he called, when we were about five yards away. At that point there was no escaping this. We slowed down and had almost stopped and the guy turned to us and said, 'It's really you, then, isn't it?'
'What?' we both said together.
He smiled at us, me especially. 'Janine, right?'
I went red. How would he know--?
'And you must be Jessy. I see what you meant, Janine. She is beautiful. But you're no less-- in spite of whatever you say. You don't disappoint, that's for sure.'
And he was checking me out then-- head to toe and back again. I frowned. 'I'm sorry--'
Then he made this frighteningly smug smile. 'Janine, it's R---.' And he gave his name. He's one of the guys I have been chatting with on AOL.
I suppose this was inevitable. I mean, I put enough information out there that anyone could find me if he just thought about it hard enough. It's because I'm not really hiding. But neither do I expect to be stalked, you know.
'I was by the ice-cream parlour. The other day... they said you weren't scheduled.'
I nodded. 'I'm not.'
'I was hoping to see you in your Colonial costume.'
'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I'm.... We're going home. Today.'
'Ohhh. And I thought we could spend some time, get to know each other at last.'
I swallowed. No, I thought. There are guys I chat with online whom I like a lot-- this was not one of them. In fact this guy is someone I tend to avoid... now I presume I shall have to block him.
'I was standing here, trying to pick out which is your house,' he said, and he turned round and looked up at the houses along the dune line, four to a block. 'I have it narrowed down to... that one, that one, and that one down there. They're three storeys.'
Two of the ones he picked were ours and the one we own next to it, to rent out. I felt terrible. Have I really got so sloppy after all? The one blessing from God was that we were leaving this afternoon. 'Well, R---, I really need to be going-- we have a long ride coming up--'
'So you're going back to Virginia? Is it far? I think you said four hours.'
Great. Will he follow us? Jessy turned and took my hand then. 'Janine,' she said softly, 'let's go.'
I nodded, allowing her to step between R--- and me, tugging me up the beach. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'We're really pressed for time--'
'But you can have a walk on the beach, then?' he said, and then turned and took a few steps after us.
I realised though that he was watching some small children and couldn't easily just leave. That was lucky. 'I'm sorry, R---. Some other time maybe.'
He would still talk at me as I walked away. 'Really, after all this time.... I just kind of thought that--'
But we were gone then. Jessy still held my hand-- in fact now she squeezed it. 'Is he still behind us?' I worried.
'I don't know,' she said, closing her teeth together. 'And I don't care.'
I nodded. 'I'm sorry.' I glanced over my shoulder. The guy was still standing there, staring up the beach at us. Jessy was heading straight for our house. That's all I would need. 'He's still there,' I said.
She clenched my hand more tightly. 'Explanation?'
That was not a request-- it was a demand. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'It's the blog. I just say things, you know. No one's ever got that close--'
'That guy has probably been here all summer waiting to recognise you,' she said. 'He'll know the house now, see your car, everything.'
'We'll we're going to Virginia in about three hours!'
'You'd better not give out that address too.'
'I don't!'
'And pictures?'
I squeezed her hand then. 'Jessy! I have never sent out my picture! You have more people stalking you on FaceBook than I have on AOL!.'
She shrugged. 'Well, that's FaceBook. It's private.'
'Not so private when you let friends of friends of friends be friends.'
She made a wry face. When we were over the dune we ran for the kitchen door, had quick showers in the garage, and ran up stairs to the third floor, where we crouched in the low attic that is Lisa's and J.J.'s room and peered out the little window. Sure enough, we made him out-- he was there, only not looking up at the house. 'We're not going to be able to show our faces round here ever again,' I said.
'We're going to England. And you're going to block him, and then delete all the posts that identify this place.'
'Yes, Jessy.'
I wonder if that means this one now!
...
One thing and then another
or, How my family does a beach house party
Sunday 2 August 2009
We attended Holy Innocents' this morning, but they do not know us so well here (in spite of Daddy having given them so much money over the years-- mostly anonymously), so they did not know to announce Lisa's 6th birthday. We did inform the rector in the receiving line and she was very pleased and proud to be congratulated one this milestone. She has lived 17 percent of her whole life since this time last year, when we were just arrived from England. When we moved in to the house in Virginia Lisa had only fuzzy memories of having lived in the US at all. She still bears that cute accent, though it is not so much from having gone to nursery school and Sunday school with other children in England as it is because her mother is Anglo-Australian, one of the scant minority native to Australia but of English and Protestant ancestry. Mother has only a hint of an Australian accent-- she sounds more like she is from East Anglia, where we stayed for two years, and little Lisa talks a lot like her mummy does.
People began arriving at about 3.00 or 4.00. I had a shower and dressed at about 3.30-- the day was nasty with clouds and thundershowers till about then and I had been inside, on the computer and not exactly dressed (okay, stark-naked), the closest I ever am to actually being bored. Then the house filled up. We eventually were able to move most of the party out to the deck. There was Daddy's uncle and aunt, having come up from their place down the Island. There was Gran, of course, and Daddy's brother and his family. There was Mother's dear best friend, having come up on the Ferry from Delaware, with her fiance, just for the occasion. Three of the girls from the ice-cream shop who were free came by. And Jessy's friends, Claire, Scotia and Edie, made sure to wander in round 5.00. Also Edie's mother showed up-- not so much out of some parental protection, to watch over her daughter at this party full of beer and wine and loud jokes and live music, of course, but because she carries something of a crush on Daddy, of whom she has been a fan these twenty-odd years or more now. Needless to say Daddy was in his element, telling funny stories, mugging with his family for the camera, serving up more food and drink to everyone than they wanted and making sure no one felt left-out. So I think Edie's mother had a really good time.
Mother (our stepmother) may be the most natural party-hoster next to Daddy. I remember my own mother was very good at it, preparing everything to the very highest standard and then presiding over the festivities-- that is to say, being a charming and gracious hostess who never let anyone down-- always with a smile and a hug and kiss for everyone. She was just like that naturally, and from having known her and learnt from her, our stepmother follows that example. Only Mother, being young in age and even younger at heart, is far more casual. For example, she rang the deli for a tray of food, and the bakery did the cake for the party. (She made a lovely homemade cake-- from scratch-- last night for our immediate-family celebration. She wouldn't dare not make one herself.) She wore a very pretty royal-blue bikini with a blue-and-white wrap-skirt draped round her hips, with her hair up and high-heeled shoes (okay, Easy-Walkers). This is remarkable because she is young and looks it, in spite of having borne two children, and of course she is very beautiful, and especially because she is... shall I say... well-endowed. She has the perfect figure for a bikini and always has had-- I do not mean she is anything other than pleasantly proportioned. And she wears the shoes really because of being so short. But I really think no one could overlook her at any party no matter what people are wearing. She just seems to exude sweetness and hospitality.
Of course Lisa takes after her as much as she takes after Jessy and me too. She wanted to wear a swimsuit and heels too, though of course she does not own any shoes with heels and discovered with near-tearful lament that both her swimsuits here were damp in the basket for the washing. Jessy soothed her-- I might have guessed-- and next she appeared, for her own birthday, in front of family and friends, everyone but J.J. being quite older than she is, in-- you guessed it-- the bandanna bikini. She absolutely loves it, you know. Jessy did fit her with another bandanna tied round her ribs as a top, and then did her hair up on her head like she was going to a prom, and everyone raved over how 'native' she looked even whilst she looked like a princess.
The bandanna bikini top didn't last all night, but she is six and no one really cared. I have to admit I thought she was even cuter with it off... bikini tops on little girls just seem so pretentious to me somehow!
I have to confess that by the time I was done playing piano and singing and crooning along with whoever else played, I had had about three full glasses of wine and was in no condition to be very gracious or hospitable to anyone. Fortunately Edie's mother did not notice. Scotia did, teased me about it, and then slyly asked me where the wine was. I made a face at her and pranced (okay, staggered) away from her. Fortunately Jessy is no drinker and would not enable her friends to either. But I was disappointed in Scotia-- she's younger than Jessy, having only turned 15 this June, and very cute... but what makes someone like that ask for a glass of wine at someone else's party? And what do we know of her history with it? I've had wine at the table since I was much younger than she is now, and so what if I have three glasses at one party? I don't have to defend my sense or propriety to someone who just wants to drink so she can say later that she was drinking.
Oh, sorry-- this is not the kind of thing I should write about before a good night's sleep, you know.
Anyway this party served as kind of a sendoff for Jessy and me, since we leave tomorrow for Virginia and will not be back here in New Jersey till nearly Labor Day. I have enjoyed it all, even though I have missed my friends at home, and missed Stephen (more on that later) and missed out on a few somewhat important events that were at the end of a four-hour drive because of having to work here that evening or the morning after, you know. I love this house and love this whole town, and the beach here is like no other in the world. But England calls, and I will heed that call. This time next week I will be five time zones away. And there will be friends there too.
There is a bit of wine left in this glass. I drink to the summer, well-spent.
...
Sunday 2 August 2009
We attended Holy Innocents' this morning, but they do not know us so well here (in spite of Daddy having given them so much money over the years-- mostly anonymously), so they did not know to announce Lisa's 6th birthday. We did inform the rector in the receiving line and she was very pleased and proud to be congratulated one this milestone. She has lived 17 percent of her whole life since this time last year, when we were just arrived from England. When we moved in to the house in Virginia Lisa had only fuzzy memories of having lived in the US at all. She still bears that cute accent, though it is not so much from having gone to nursery school and Sunday school with other children in England as it is because her mother is Anglo-Australian, one of the scant minority native to Australia but of English and Protestant ancestry. Mother has only a hint of an Australian accent-- she sounds more like she is from East Anglia, where we stayed for two years, and little Lisa talks a lot like her mummy does.
People began arriving at about 3.00 or 4.00. I had a shower and dressed at about 3.30-- the day was nasty with clouds and thundershowers till about then and I had been inside, on the computer and not exactly dressed (okay, stark-naked), the closest I ever am to actually being bored. Then the house filled up. We eventually were able to move most of the party out to the deck. There was Daddy's uncle and aunt, having come up from their place down the Island. There was Gran, of course, and Daddy's brother and his family. There was Mother's dear best friend, having come up on the Ferry from Delaware, with her fiance, just for the occasion. Three of the girls from the ice-cream shop who were free came by. And Jessy's friends, Claire, Scotia and Edie, made sure to wander in round 5.00. Also Edie's mother showed up-- not so much out of some parental protection, to watch over her daughter at this party full of beer and wine and loud jokes and live music, of course, but because she carries something of a crush on Daddy, of whom she has been a fan these twenty-odd years or more now. Needless to say Daddy was in his element, telling funny stories, mugging with his family for the camera, serving up more food and drink to everyone than they wanted and making sure no one felt left-out. So I think Edie's mother had a really good time.
Mother (our stepmother) may be the most natural party-hoster next to Daddy. I remember my own mother was very good at it, preparing everything to the very highest standard and then presiding over the festivities-- that is to say, being a charming and gracious hostess who never let anyone down-- always with a smile and a hug and kiss for everyone. She was just like that naturally, and from having known her and learnt from her, our stepmother follows that example. Only Mother, being young in age and even younger at heart, is far more casual. For example, she rang the deli for a tray of food, and the bakery did the cake for the party. (She made a lovely homemade cake-- from scratch-- last night for our immediate-family celebration. She wouldn't dare not make one herself.) She wore a very pretty royal-blue bikini with a blue-and-white wrap-skirt draped round her hips, with her hair up and high-heeled shoes (okay, Easy-Walkers). This is remarkable because she is young and looks it, in spite of having borne two children, and of course she is very beautiful, and especially because she is... shall I say... well-endowed. She has the perfect figure for a bikini and always has had-- I do not mean she is anything other than pleasantly proportioned. And she wears the shoes really because of being so short. But I really think no one could overlook her at any party no matter what people are wearing. She just seems to exude sweetness and hospitality.
Of course Lisa takes after her as much as she takes after Jessy and me too. She wanted to wear a swimsuit and heels too, though of course she does not own any shoes with heels and discovered with near-tearful lament that both her swimsuits here were damp in the basket for the washing. Jessy soothed her-- I might have guessed-- and next she appeared, for her own birthday, in front of family and friends, everyone but J.J. being quite older than she is, in-- you guessed it-- the bandanna bikini. She absolutely loves it, you know. Jessy did fit her with another bandanna tied round her ribs as a top, and then did her hair up on her head like she was going to a prom, and everyone raved over how 'native' she looked even whilst she looked like a princess.
The bandanna bikini top didn't last all night, but she is six and no one really cared. I have to admit I thought she was even cuter with it off... bikini tops on little girls just seem so pretentious to me somehow!
I have to confess that by the time I was done playing piano and singing and crooning along with whoever else played, I had had about three full glasses of wine and was in no condition to be very gracious or hospitable to anyone. Fortunately Edie's mother did not notice. Scotia did, teased me about it, and then slyly asked me where the wine was. I made a face at her and pranced (okay, staggered) away from her. Fortunately Jessy is no drinker and would not enable her friends to either. But I was disappointed in Scotia-- she's younger than Jessy, having only turned 15 this June, and very cute... but what makes someone like that ask for a glass of wine at someone else's party? And what do we know of her history with it? I've had wine at the table since I was much younger than she is now, and so what if I have three glasses at one party? I don't have to defend my sense or propriety to someone who just wants to drink so she can say later that she was drinking.
Oh, sorry-- this is not the kind of thing I should write about before a good night's sleep, you know.
Anyway this party served as kind of a sendoff for Jessy and me, since we leave tomorrow for Virginia and will not be back here in New Jersey till nearly Labor Day. I have enjoyed it all, even though I have missed my friends at home, and missed Stephen (more on that later) and missed out on a few somewhat important events that were at the end of a four-hour drive because of having to work here that evening or the morning after, you know. I love this house and love this whole town, and the beach here is like no other in the world. But England calls, and I will heed that call. This time next week I will be five time zones away. And there will be friends there too.
There is a bit of wine left in this glass. I drink to the summer, well-spent.
...
01 August 2009
Time for a cold shower
Saturday 1 August 2009
I got home from working this morning and-- naturally, and as you might guess-- got undressed straight away. Well-- this is only sensible since I may wear the same clothes when I go in tonight. All our costumes are all natural fibres, which 'breathe' well but also can get somewhat... ripe. I usually change over my shift and stockings from morning to evening... but it's totally 'in period' to wear a gown and bedjacket that might not be so 'fresh', you know... and of course we don't wear makeup and do little with our hair-- no curling, no straightening, no highlights or dye, you know.
When I sat down at the computer the yard-care people were out. They come on Saturdays and are supposed to start at 11 and be done by noon. Of course they work very fast, with their loud whining machines, edging, whacking weeds, clipping bushes and so on. We don't have much here, being on the dune line, but Daddy was very careful to plant scrubby pines and cedar bushes which help hold the sand down. Very few people seem to care about this, making dune erosion such a big deal. (My dad tried to lobby for a reduction in his property taxes based on having so much planted here, saying that 'his' share of the beach maintenance costs, for both these houses-- ours and the rental-- were probably less than some others'. Needless to say they turned this down.)
Someone asked me once if the yard-care guys are good-looking. I don't usually go in for ogling the help. It's low-class. The sad thing is that so many Americans don't understand this concept. Everyone is so 'equal' in the United States that we don't seem to think it's odd for a girl whose father pays labourers to be attracted to one of those sweaty labourers. Maybe having been raised so very English and having gone to school there has altered my way of thinking, and maybe I am just the odd one out then.
All right, there is one cute one... he's about my age, very well-tanned, very well-shaped, with good teeth. I have seen him smile at me before. I said 'Good morning' to him once and then if he happens to see me, like coming back from work in my Colonial costume, he always says hello. I do not know his name though. Part of me wants to make sure I never do.
This morning I happened to look out this window as the noisemaking machines came round this side of the house and he was there. I got very embarrassed and sat back down, away from the window. Of course he would not see me, even if he knew I was up here looking down-- the screen makes the window opaque and it's on the third floor anyway, 18 feet above his head and the yard is only 18 feet wide down there, so he wouldn't have the angle (sorry about relying on trigonometry here) and he wouldn't have been able to see much below my shoulders anyway... but still it is very weird being totally naked in your own room and looking down on the bare back of an ordinarily good-looking young guy, who is known for smiling at you, who is just a decent middle-class guy in excellent health who chooses, to support his university tuition, to labour as a yard-care worker in the summer.
I wonder if I should have a shower now before I go to the beach with Jessy. It would have to be a cool one.
...
I got home from working this morning and-- naturally, and as you might guess-- got undressed straight away. Well-- this is only sensible since I may wear the same clothes when I go in tonight. All our costumes are all natural fibres, which 'breathe' well but also can get somewhat... ripe. I usually change over my shift and stockings from morning to evening... but it's totally 'in period' to wear a gown and bedjacket that might not be so 'fresh', you know... and of course we don't wear makeup and do little with our hair-- no curling, no straightening, no highlights or dye, you know.
When I sat down at the computer the yard-care people were out. They come on Saturdays and are supposed to start at 11 and be done by noon. Of course they work very fast, with their loud whining machines, edging, whacking weeds, clipping bushes and so on. We don't have much here, being on the dune line, but Daddy was very careful to plant scrubby pines and cedar bushes which help hold the sand down. Very few people seem to care about this, making dune erosion such a big deal. (My dad tried to lobby for a reduction in his property taxes based on having so much planted here, saying that 'his' share of the beach maintenance costs, for both these houses-- ours and the rental-- were probably less than some others'. Needless to say they turned this down.)
Someone asked me once if the yard-care guys are good-looking. I don't usually go in for ogling the help. It's low-class. The sad thing is that so many Americans don't understand this concept. Everyone is so 'equal' in the United States that we don't seem to think it's odd for a girl whose father pays labourers to be attracted to one of those sweaty labourers. Maybe having been raised so very English and having gone to school there has altered my way of thinking, and maybe I am just the odd one out then.
All right, there is one cute one... he's about my age, very well-tanned, very well-shaped, with good teeth. I have seen him smile at me before. I said 'Good morning' to him once and then if he happens to see me, like coming back from work in my Colonial costume, he always says hello. I do not know his name though. Part of me wants to make sure I never do.
This morning I happened to look out this window as the noisemaking machines came round this side of the house and he was there. I got very embarrassed and sat back down, away from the window. Of course he would not see me, even if he knew I was up here looking down-- the screen makes the window opaque and it's on the third floor anyway, 18 feet above his head and the yard is only 18 feet wide down there, so he wouldn't have the angle (sorry about relying on trigonometry here) and he wouldn't have been able to see much below my shoulders anyway... but still it is very weird being totally naked in your own room and looking down on the bare back of an ordinarily good-looking young guy, who is known for smiling at you, who is just a decent middle-class guy in excellent health who chooses, to support his university tuition, to labour as a yard-care worker in the summer.
I wonder if I should have a shower now before I go to the beach with Jessy. It would have to be a cool one.
...
When I am doing nothing
Friday 31 July 2009
I got a call at about 9.00 to go in to the shop to cover for one of our servers, so I rushed through getting dressed and got out of the place, in my good yellow-and-cream gown, at like 9.30. One good thing about working in a Colonial-themed place is that you don't have to wear makeup! --in fact you shouldn't! Only actresses and harlots (which in the 18th C were pretty much the same thing) wore face paint., you know.
Whilst I was working Jessy went out 'to lunch' with some of her friends here. Mother came with JJ and Lisa and picked me up in the car. When I got back Jessy had left me a text message inviting me to come along... but when I called her she didn't pick up and I realised they were probably seeing HP6 again down at the Beach. So I came up here, got out of my outfit, and went online.
This constituted most of my afternoon then. The sun has been going in and out of clouds all morning and I hadn't decided if I wanted to get dressed just to lie out and get nothing for it. Besides, I'm tan enough! Lisa came up, as naked as I am, and asked if I was going to the beach. But then Mother called her back down. 'No one's going anywhere till after lunch!'
Lisa rolled her eyes and went back down. I descended most of the way and called down, 'Mother! I'm not hungry, so do I have to eat?'
Then her sweet voice came back, from round the corner in the dining room, 'Not if you don't want to, sweetheart. But no unfair snacks later then!'
'Yes, Mother,' I called, and came back up here.
People were chatting and I was too busy with that to do much writing for myself. Lisa came back and promised to go to the beach with me whenever I wanted to. She was, of course, still naked in the house but suggested we could wear our bandanna bikinis (see blog from yesterday). 'When will you want to?' she asked, standing a foot from my elbow as I typed and rocking side-to-side on her heels as she does.
I reached over and pinched her. 'We'll wait till you've settled your stomach first, okay?'
'Okay!' she said, and went back down.
I went down for a banana later (oh, do not ASK what people online thought of that!) and found Mother sitting out on the deck, in her chaise, reading. She was in her good blue-and-black print bikini and looked absolutely gorgeous... as usual. I should remind you all that 'Mother', my stepmother, is 27. She was our nanny till after Mommy died. Lisa and JJ are hers and Jessy and I are Mommy's. Lisa will be 6 in a week. She is as precocious as any child of Mother's could be expected to be, adorable, fiercely brave, sweet-natured, and absolutely enraptured with Jessy who is almost exactly 10 years older. This afternoon little JJ, who is 3-1/2, was arranging trucks and blocks all over the deck. He's never naked-- he says it is for girls and is probably getting protective over his maleness anyway-- and was in a cute little bikini swimsuit like Daddy wears in the pool. And Lisa was naked, both of them slathered heavily in SPF 60 and playing on our nice big white-painted cedar deck that extends from the front door and the parlour to the dunes. I thought it was charming and cute that the two of them had both Barbies and trucks all over the deck, playing somewhat separately and yet sometimes together in the sun. Daddy strung a 'safety net' under the lower railing mainly to keep dolls and trucks from going overboard. It's green and tends to become opaque in bright sunlight, so Lisa crawling round the deck with JJ was pretty much safe from prying eyes on the street, which gives access to the beach, or from the walkway leading over the dunes that's between our house and the one we rent out next door.
Of course I only peered out the front door (which faces the dune, not the street) from behind the screen door. Mother turned her head and waved back at me. 'I'm not coming out,' I said.
'I should hope not,' she smiled.
'Just wanted to see what you're all doing.'
'They're kind of in the middle of this,' Mother said.
Lisa stood up and padded over to me then. 'Are you coming out to play?'
I smiled. 'Not like I am sweetie!'
She shrugged and then smiled shyly at me. 'Okay,' she said-- recognising that older girls have issues with playing outside naked on a deck visible to the public that younger girls do not. I really believe she would have expected Jessy to join her.
'We'll go for a walk later, okay?'
She nodded and ran right back to the Barbies. I went back up stairs.
Finally round 2.30 I had not heard from Jessy and decided to go out. I put on the pale-blue bandanna bikini, which I had not worn outside yet, and a plain white tanktop and descended to the deck again. 'Are we going out?" Lisa asked, rushing up.
I caught her; her skin was drying and she'd need more SPF 60. 'You need to go up and get your suit,' I said. 'And a top too.'
She ran off for the stairs. 'Can I come too?' JJ asked, rushing up too.
I looked at Mother. 'Do you mind if I take them both? If you want to read....'
'I'll be fine, sweetheart. Go and have fun.'
Lisa brought down the bandanna-bikini, one of the ones Jessy and I made for ourselves that didn't work and got altered for someone smaller, and I sat her on a dining-room chair and tied it up at her hips for her. JJ went to the potty and emerged, and I got them both well coated in sunblock-- as well as myself-- and we descended to the yard and went under the deck to the walkway over the dune. On the beach, which had got hot, we ran down to the water's edge and then wandered off down to the next jetty, about three and a half blocks. We met some people we know, said hello to some new people, got slightly wet-- well, JJ got soaked when he slid in the sand and was overwhelmed by an anklesnapper-- and got some exercise. When I am with our little ones I don't feel a need to be Miss Popular Young Woman In A Swimsuit On The Beach, you know. I feel like a nanny myself sometimes. And I like it. It is really true what Daddy says, that being around children on the beach and in the ocean makes you feel younger. I suppose that is why he has made a lifetime's career about of being youthful and fun and interesting and entertaining!
When we got back Jessy and her friends had come. At once Jessy pointed out to them that I was wearing one of our bandanna-bikini creations. 'That's a bandanna?' her friend Scotia said in amazement.
I giggled, and turned round then. 'Actually it's two,' I said.
'Oh my God!' they all seemed to say at once. 'And you wore that out?'
I shrugged, smiling somewhat proudly now. 'Of course.'
'It was kind of Janine's idea,' Jessy said. 'I have two of them too.'
'And you made that?'
'But it's only cotton!'
'And you wore it to go out?'
They remained amazed. So I have gone from feeling lonely and left-out (and very nearly bored!) to being a role model for girls again. This is the kind of day I like!
...
I got a call at about 9.00 to go in to the shop to cover for one of our servers, so I rushed through getting dressed and got out of the place, in my good yellow-and-cream gown, at like 9.30. One good thing about working in a Colonial-themed place is that you don't have to wear makeup! --in fact you shouldn't! Only actresses and harlots (which in the 18th C were pretty much the same thing) wore face paint., you know.
Whilst I was working Jessy went out 'to lunch' with some of her friends here. Mother came with JJ and Lisa and picked me up in the car. When I got back Jessy had left me a text message inviting me to come along... but when I called her she didn't pick up and I realised they were probably seeing HP6 again down at the Beach. So I came up here, got out of my outfit, and went online.
This constituted most of my afternoon then. The sun has been going in and out of clouds all morning and I hadn't decided if I wanted to get dressed just to lie out and get nothing for it. Besides, I'm tan enough! Lisa came up, as naked as I am, and asked if I was going to the beach. But then Mother called her back down. 'No one's going anywhere till after lunch!'
Lisa rolled her eyes and went back down. I descended most of the way and called down, 'Mother! I'm not hungry, so do I have to eat?'
Then her sweet voice came back, from round the corner in the dining room, 'Not if you don't want to, sweetheart. But no unfair snacks later then!'
'Yes, Mother,' I called, and came back up here.
People were chatting and I was too busy with that to do much writing for myself. Lisa came back and promised to go to the beach with me whenever I wanted to. She was, of course, still naked in the house but suggested we could wear our bandanna bikinis (see blog from yesterday). 'When will you want to?' she asked, standing a foot from my elbow as I typed and rocking side-to-side on her heels as she does.
I reached over and pinched her. 'We'll wait till you've settled your stomach first, okay?'
'Okay!' she said, and went back down.
I went down for a banana later (oh, do not ASK what people online thought of that!) and found Mother sitting out on the deck, in her chaise, reading. She was in her good blue-and-black print bikini and looked absolutely gorgeous... as usual. I should remind you all that 'Mother', my stepmother, is 27. She was our nanny till after Mommy died. Lisa and JJ are hers and Jessy and I are Mommy's. Lisa will be 6 in a week. She is as precocious as any child of Mother's could be expected to be, adorable, fiercely brave, sweet-natured, and absolutely enraptured with Jessy who is almost exactly 10 years older. This afternoon little JJ, who is 3-1/2, was arranging trucks and blocks all over the deck. He's never naked-- he says it is for girls and is probably getting protective over his maleness anyway-- and was in a cute little bikini swimsuit like Daddy wears in the pool. And Lisa was naked, both of them slathered heavily in SPF 60 and playing on our nice big white-painted cedar deck that extends from the front door and the parlour to the dunes. I thought it was charming and cute that the two of them had both Barbies and trucks all over the deck, playing somewhat separately and yet sometimes together in the sun. Daddy strung a 'safety net' under the lower railing mainly to keep dolls and trucks from going overboard. It's green and tends to become opaque in bright sunlight, so Lisa crawling round the deck with JJ was pretty much safe from prying eyes on the street, which gives access to the beach, or from the walkway leading over the dunes that's between our house and the one we rent out next door.
Of course I only peered out the front door (which faces the dune, not the street) from behind the screen door. Mother turned her head and waved back at me. 'I'm not coming out,' I said.
'I should hope not,' she smiled.
'Just wanted to see what you're all doing.'
'They're kind of in the middle of this,' Mother said.
Lisa stood up and padded over to me then. 'Are you coming out to play?'
I smiled. 'Not like I am sweetie!'
She shrugged and then smiled shyly at me. 'Okay,' she said-- recognising that older girls have issues with playing outside naked on a deck visible to the public that younger girls do not. I really believe she would have expected Jessy to join her.
'We'll go for a walk later, okay?'
She nodded and ran right back to the Barbies. I went back up stairs.
Finally round 2.30 I had not heard from Jessy and decided to go out. I put on the pale-blue bandanna bikini, which I had not worn outside yet, and a plain white tanktop and descended to the deck again. 'Are we going out?" Lisa asked, rushing up.
I caught her; her skin was drying and she'd need more SPF 60. 'You need to go up and get your suit,' I said. 'And a top too.'
She ran off for the stairs. 'Can I come too?' JJ asked, rushing up too.
I looked at Mother. 'Do you mind if I take them both? If you want to read....'
'I'll be fine, sweetheart. Go and have fun.'
Lisa brought down the bandanna-bikini, one of the ones Jessy and I made for ourselves that didn't work and got altered for someone smaller, and I sat her on a dining-room chair and tied it up at her hips for her. JJ went to the potty and emerged, and I got them both well coated in sunblock-- as well as myself-- and we descended to the yard and went under the deck to the walkway over the dune. On the beach, which had got hot, we ran down to the water's edge and then wandered off down to the next jetty, about three and a half blocks. We met some people we know, said hello to some new people, got slightly wet-- well, JJ got soaked when he slid in the sand and was overwhelmed by an anklesnapper-- and got some exercise. When I am with our little ones I don't feel a need to be Miss Popular Young Woman In A Swimsuit On The Beach, you know. I feel like a nanny myself sometimes. And I like it. It is really true what Daddy says, that being around children on the beach and in the ocean makes you feel younger. I suppose that is why he has made a lifetime's career about of being youthful and fun and interesting and entertaining!
When we got back Jessy and her friends had come. At once Jessy pointed out to them that I was wearing one of our bandanna-bikini creations. 'That's a bandanna?' her friend Scotia said in amazement.
I giggled, and turned round then. 'Actually it's two,' I said.
'Oh my God!' they all seemed to say at once. 'And you wore that out?'
I shrugged, smiling somewhat proudly now. 'Of course.'
'It was kind of Janine's idea,' Jessy said. 'I have two of them too.'
'And you made that?'
'But it's only cotton!'
'And you wore it to go out?'
They remained amazed. So I have gone from feeling lonely and left-out (and very nearly bored!) to being a role model for girls again. This is the kind of day I like!
...
26 July 2009
The mother of all thunderstorms
Sunday 26 July 2009-- NJ shore
The mother of all thunderstorms is about to descend upon us. I sit here in my little attic room, facing west-- away from the ocean-- with scarcely a breeze to move the sweat on my skin. The weather has come round to the Northeast-- it's the side this house is exposed to least. I worked this morning and after the beach I had a shower, so I was clean about an hour ago, but in this intense humidity and stillness that's of little help now. Jessy has been a good angel, playing with J.J. and Lisa since Mother and Daddy went out to dinner. They've been gone a while, so they've gone somewhere else too. This is Sunday evening so the traffic coming back up from Beach Haven will be a nightmare. They probably elected to stay down there, doing shopping or something, till later, which is wise. It's not like we don't have it under control here.
She made them a microwave pizza and they've been sitting down watching 'Mulan' in the TV room, Last I went down, for more iced tea, little J.J. was sitting at his small table surrounded by Transformers half acting out scenes of the movie with them. Lisa was stretched out on the carpet, stark naked, against her fluffy floor pillow, like a miniature princess. This is Jessy's influence-- I always say so. Jessy loves being pampered, even if she has to pamper herself. She's a bit frustrated still having to be in panties till tomorrow, but you can tell what she'd be wearing if she could be and she's such a good-natured little angel that it's hardly a hassle to her really.
I am clear now and haven't put anything on after the shower. I went round down there checking windows-- an odd thing to do with no clothes on! --but Jessy had them all closed and the draperies drawn on the beach side. It's because of the storm. Peering out I saw sand blowing round. The beach is entirely empty and the sky is gone threateningly dark. I will be glad for this storm because it should cool us off after two extremely hot days... but it is scary to see in its early stages and the little ones were upset with the sight of it.
Thunder rolls hard out at sea. The whole house rumbles with it. If we lose power the AirPort will still work, as will the security system and that whole computer network, but the little ones will lose the TV in the TV room as the generator doesn't carry all the outlets here. I was thinking of having something to eat but won't risk it till I know it's passed. I wonder why Mother has not called yet-- I wonder if they do not see this storm as it looks up here. They may only be in the restaurant. Jessy and I were to go to a party tonight but it sure looks like it won't be on. I wouldn't go there and linger round a hot sweaty house with too many idiots drinking too much for anything in the world.
Mother rang Jessy-- I have had the news of it. They just got to the car and will come up the Island directly. Daddy took her out in the old Buick-- the '65 convertible. It's funny-- in those wide bucket seats they sit about three feet apart! Petite Mother looks like a little girl! But the hood is new and they won't have leaks (like in the other one) though they have no AC in that car and will be sweating rivulets when the arrive! Jessy and I will put the little ones into the bath (one at a time now, for Lisa will not share with her brother any more) and cool them off. Mother will have a good long soak in her own. Daddy will check all the windows and phone half the people he knows out of worry-- it's what he does. I will stay up in my room naked and sweating. And chat online if I can.
...
The mother of all thunderstorms is about to descend upon us. I sit here in my little attic room, facing west-- away from the ocean-- with scarcely a breeze to move the sweat on my skin. The weather has come round to the Northeast-- it's the side this house is exposed to least. I worked this morning and after the beach I had a shower, so I was clean about an hour ago, but in this intense humidity and stillness that's of little help now. Jessy has been a good angel, playing with J.J. and Lisa since Mother and Daddy went out to dinner. They've been gone a while, so they've gone somewhere else too. This is Sunday evening so the traffic coming back up from Beach Haven will be a nightmare. They probably elected to stay down there, doing shopping or something, till later, which is wise. It's not like we don't have it under control here.
She made them a microwave pizza and they've been sitting down watching 'Mulan' in the TV room, Last I went down, for more iced tea, little J.J. was sitting at his small table surrounded by Transformers half acting out scenes of the movie with them. Lisa was stretched out on the carpet, stark naked, against her fluffy floor pillow, like a miniature princess. This is Jessy's influence-- I always say so. Jessy loves being pampered, even if she has to pamper herself. She's a bit frustrated still having to be in panties till tomorrow, but you can tell what she'd be wearing if she could be and she's such a good-natured little angel that it's hardly a hassle to her really.
I am clear now and haven't put anything on after the shower. I went round down there checking windows-- an odd thing to do with no clothes on! --but Jessy had them all closed and the draperies drawn on the beach side. It's because of the storm. Peering out I saw sand blowing round. The beach is entirely empty and the sky is gone threateningly dark. I will be glad for this storm because it should cool us off after two extremely hot days... but it is scary to see in its early stages and the little ones were upset with the sight of it.
Thunder rolls hard out at sea. The whole house rumbles with it. If we lose power the AirPort will still work, as will the security system and that whole computer network, but the little ones will lose the TV in the TV room as the generator doesn't carry all the outlets here. I was thinking of having something to eat but won't risk it till I know it's passed. I wonder why Mother has not called yet-- I wonder if they do not see this storm as it looks up here. They may only be in the restaurant. Jessy and I were to go to a party tonight but it sure looks like it won't be on. I wouldn't go there and linger round a hot sweaty house with too many idiots drinking too much for anything in the world.
Mother rang Jessy-- I have had the news of it. They just got to the car and will come up the Island directly. Daddy took her out in the old Buick-- the '65 convertible. It's funny-- in those wide bucket seats they sit about three feet apart! Petite Mother looks like a little girl! But the hood is new and they won't have leaks (like in the other one) though they have no AC in that car and will be sweating rivulets when the arrive! Jessy and I will put the little ones into the bath (one at a time now, for Lisa will not share with her brother any more) and cool them off. Mother will have a good long soak in her own. Daddy will check all the windows and phone half the people he knows out of worry-- it's what he does. I will stay up in my room naked and sweating. And chat online if I can.
...
15 July 2009
Full house
Tuesday & Wednesday, 14-15 July
Jessy, Josie and I left the castle early in the morning, went over and collected Becky, and got up to the Landing (house at Lewes) in time for lunch. Mother had a nice sandwich platter waiting, of which we girls ate pigs' shares. Well-- I am never much for breakfast and we had got nothing more than a bagel or so before we'd left. We had a nice visit and got to show Becky and Josie round our childhood home, including Mommy's cherished formal flower garden out back, newly rejuvenated by Mother (and a bit of paid help). They were especially touched to see Mommy's memorial stone, just a little statuette of an angel on top of the small square marble tablet lying over where her ashes rest. I was glad to be there at Lewes again-- I have not been there in some months. But I do not need Mommy's beloved house ot her gardens or the actual sight of her memorial tablet to remember her, you know.
We caught a ferry at 3.40 for Cape May. Neither Josie nor Becky had ever been on it. This is how provincial some of the people we have met in the Eastern Shore are. The ferry is a fun ride and Cape May is always a nice stop just for a day-- yet none of them have ever ventured two hours north to even see it. For them it is only a dotted line on a map. Jessy and I indulged them and we all went to the forwardmost gate and pretended to lean out like that scene in 'Titanic'. At least we did till we were scolded for it. Then we went up to the deck and leaned out over the railing there, which is more permissible. Needless to say those two dozen photos will make it on to three or four FaceBook sites shortly!
We did not stay for supper in Cape May but drove up directly to the Island and got settled in at the beach house. Jessy and Josie got the idea to stay in the little attic room, the one on the ocean side, where Lisa and J.J. usually sleep, and that might have been sensible. But in the end we all ended up sleeping all over our own room, the one on the western end of the house-- and when I say 'all over' I mean ALL OVER, for after a long game of 'Apples to Apples' we fell asleep where we were, mostly on the floor, though Becky was half up on top of my bed and when I woke up I found Josie curled up on her side with my foot under her pillow. The place was atrociously sweaty. Jessy and I got out of the house, in costume, for our shift at the shop, leaving Josie and Becky a note. They came down for breakfast at about 9.00, in swimsuits under their shorts and t-shirts, and the went to the beach. Jessy and I met them there-- still in costume of course. Of course people stare when we walk down the beach in-season, dressed like 1750s working girls. We put on smiles and carry hand baskets from which we give out discount coupons. The cards are for a free breakfast or sundae if you buy three, because Mommy always said she'd rather have families than dates. It's a different kind of clientele, one that tends to come back a few times during a vacation and then again and again, year after year. Besides giving away one out of for makes more business sense than giving away half, you know.
We sat with Becky and Josie in their swimsuits only for a few moments and then went up to change. We had successfully got out of working this evening (whilst I am typing this) and so spent the afternoon off on the mainland seeing 'Harry Potter 6' (sad movie, and very dark). We went shopping and got back here.
Tomorrow we will be working the evening shift. We hope to be on the beach most of the day. I always wonder if I will run into any of my online friends there... they ought to know by now how to find me. Till then I wish them luck! (ha)
...
Jessy, Josie and I left the castle early in the morning, went over and collected Becky, and got up to the Landing (house at Lewes) in time for lunch. Mother had a nice sandwich platter waiting, of which we girls ate pigs' shares. Well-- I am never much for breakfast and we had got nothing more than a bagel or so before we'd left. We had a nice visit and got to show Becky and Josie round our childhood home, including Mommy's cherished formal flower garden out back, newly rejuvenated by Mother (and a bit of paid help). They were especially touched to see Mommy's memorial stone, just a little statuette of an angel on top of the small square marble tablet lying over where her ashes rest. I was glad to be there at Lewes again-- I have not been there in some months. But I do not need Mommy's beloved house ot her gardens or the actual sight of her memorial tablet to remember her, you know.
We caught a ferry at 3.40 for Cape May. Neither Josie nor Becky had ever been on it. This is how provincial some of the people we have met in the Eastern Shore are. The ferry is a fun ride and Cape May is always a nice stop just for a day-- yet none of them have ever ventured two hours north to even see it. For them it is only a dotted line on a map. Jessy and I indulged them and we all went to the forwardmost gate and pretended to lean out like that scene in 'Titanic'. At least we did till we were scolded for it. Then we went up to the deck and leaned out over the railing there, which is more permissible. Needless to say those two dozen photos will make it on to three or four FaceBook sites shortly!
We did not stay for supper in Cape May but drove up directly to the Island and got settled in at the beach house. Jessy and Josie got the idea to stay in the little attic room, the one on the ocean side, where Lisa and J.J. usually sleep, and that might have been sensible. But in the end we all ended up sleeping all over our own room, the one on the western end of the house-- and when I say 'all over' I mean ALL OVER, for after a long game of 'Apples to Apples' we fell asleep where we were, mostly on the floor, though Becky was half up on top of my bed and when I woke up I found Josie curled up on her side with my foot under her pillow. The place was atrociously sweaty. Jessy and I got out of the house, in costume, for our shift at the shop, leaving Josie and Becky a note. They came down for breakfast at about 9.00, in swimsuits under their shorts and t-shirts, and the went to the beach. Jessy and I met them there-- still in costume of course. Of course people stare when we walk down the beach in-season, dressed like 1750s working girls. We put on smiles and carry hand baskets from which we give out discount coupons. The cards are for a free breakfast or sundae if you buy three, because Mommy always said she'd rather have families than dates. It's a different kind of clientele, one that tends to come back a few times during a vacation and then again and again, year after year. Besides giving away one out of for makes more business sense than giving away half, you know.
We sat with Becky and Josie in their swimsuits only for a few moments and then went up to change. We had successfully got out of working this evening (whilst I am typing this) and so spent the afternoon off on the mainland seeing 'Harry Potter 6' (sad movie, and very dark). We went shopping and got back here.
Tomorrow we will be working the evening shift. We hope to be on the beach most of the day. I always wonder if I will run into any of my online friends there... they ought to know by now how to find me. Till then I wish them luck! (ha)
...
13 July 2009
An update
Monday 13 July 2009
I have not been on much lately as I have been busy with this and that. Jessy and I have been working pretty regularly at the breakfast & dessert place, in costume of course! Our shifts are pretty much the same, usually Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and then one or both of the days on the weekend. Most often it's been Sunday. This weekend Jessy and I arranged to be off and drove home Friday night, to hang out with the girls at home (meaning Terncote). On Saturday five of them came over and we had a sort of meeting of the girls' club. That evening I had dinner with Stephen and his family whilst Jessy went over to Josie's. Jessy and I went to church on Sunday and had brunch with Rita and Josie after lunch Becky joined us at home. We just hung round the pool and so on. On Sunday evening Josie stayed over as Jessy's guest. As I write this they are both out back, still, even though it's past 7.00 pm.
Josie is the one who has embraced the freedom of being naked round the house as much as Jessy and I have. She even does it at home. Her mother is single and not dating and her younger sister is only about 9 and thinks it's silly, so at least till her mother gets home she will be naked in the house (Jessy and I have been there; we know it's true). The two of them are cute-- I served tea this afternoon and they both sat at the outside table with their ankles crossed and napkins in their laps and used all the most perfect table manners. I understand why Mother does not want us undressed at the dinner table but for me it is no bother especially when we are being proper in every other respect. I promised them some frozen pizza later wen we decide to watch something down in the TV room.
This weekend Daddy and Mother and our little ones are at the house in Lewes-- they sailed down at the end of last week and now the boat rides her mooring off the beach on the Bay (you can see it from the Ferry). Little J.J. always hates the lifejacket and I heard he had to receive some stern words from Daddy about it-- the rule is he is either down below (and that means NOT on the ladder!) or wearing the lifejacket on deck. He has grown grudgingly used to it and plays at typing knots, doing puzzles and 'making wine' (playing in a bucket of seawater in the cockpit). Meanwhile Lisa in her own lifejacket scampers all over the deck and is nearly impossible to restrain. I think being on only 34 feet of boat bores her and makes her feel confined. Mother did say on the phone that she allowed Lisa to take off her swimsuit-- provided she got enough sunblock all over, you know-- and then teased Jessy and me, saying that it reminded her of us and that Lisa's tendency is our fault. I laughed at that. But like Josie she just enjoys the freedom, and it's only harmless.
Tomorrow Jessy and I, with Josie and Becky, drive back up to NJ. We will stop at the house in Lewes for lunch and take a late-afternoon ferry to Cape May. Then of course we will have to work Wednesday, usually our one guaranteed off day, whilst Becky and Rita either sleep in or bask on the beach. There is one good thing about our schedule though and that is that the place is only open 7-11 am and 7-11 pm, which leaves the entire middle of the day open for fun in the sun. Of course it's a public beach and there's no chance for sunning all bare as we do here at Terncote. --though I am sure that after this weekend none of us desperately need more of that (especially in some places!).
I shall make every effort to keep up with my blog a little more frequently than I have been doing over the last month; but honestly it's been very busy this end!
...
I have not been on much lately as I have been busy with this and that. Jessy and I have been working pretty regularly at the breakfast & dessert place, in costume of course! Our shifts are pretty much the same, usually Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and then one or both of the days on the weekend. Most often it's been Sunday. This weekend Jessy and I arranged to be off and drove home Friday night, to hang out with the girls at home (meaning Terncote). On Saturday five of them came over and we had a sort of meeting of the girls' club. That evening I had dinner with Stephen and his family whilst Jessy went over to Josie's. Jessy and I went to church on Sunday and had brunch with Rita and Josie after lunch Becky joined us at home. We just hung round the pool and so on. On Sunday evening Josie stayed over as Jessy's guest. As I write this they are both out back, still, even though it's past 7.00 pm.
Josie is the one who has embraced the freedom of being naked round the house as much as Jessy and I have. She even does it at home. Her mother is single and not dating and her younger sister is only about 9 and thinks it's silly, so at least till her mother gets home she will be naked in the house (Jessy and I have been there; we know it's true). The two of them are cute-- I served tea this afternoon and they both sat at the outside table with their ankles crossed and napkins in their laps and used all the most perfect table manners. I understand why Mother does not want us undressed at the dinner table but for me it is no bother especially when we are being proper in every other respect. I promised them some frozen pizza later wen we decide to watch something down in the TV room.
This weekend Daddy and Mother and our little ones are at the house in Lewes-- they sailed down at the end of last week and now the boat rides her mooring off the beach on the Bay (you can see it from the Ferry). Little J.J. always hates the lifejacket and I heard he had to receive some stern words from Daddy about it-- the rule is he is either down below (and that means NOT on the ladder!) or wearing the lifejacket on deck. He has grown grudgingly used to it and plays at typing knots, doing puzzles and 'making wine' (playing in a bucket of seawater in the cockpit). Meanwhile Lisa in her own lifejacket scampers all over the deck and is nearly impossible to restrain. I think being on only 34 feet of boat bores her and makes her feel confined. Mother did say on the phone that she allowed Lisa to take off her swimsuit-- provided she got enough sunblock all over, you know-- and then teased Jessy and me, saying that it reminded her of us and that Lisa's tendency is our fault. I laughed at that. But like Josie she just enjoys the freedom, and it's only harmless.
Tomorrow Jessy and I, with Josie and Becky, drive back up to NJ. We will stop at the house in Lewes for lunch and take a late-afternoon ferry to Cape May. Then of course we will have to work Wednesday, usually our one guaranteed off day, whilst Becky and Rita either sleep in or bask on the beach. There is one good thing about our schedule though and that is that the place is only open 7-11 am and 7-11 pm, which leaves the entire middle of the day open for fun in the sun. Of course it's a public beach and there's no chance for sunning all bare as we do here at Terncote. --though I am sure that after this weekend none of us desperately need more of that (especially in some places!).
I shall make every effort to keep up with my blog a little more frequently than I have been doing over the last month; but honestly it's been very busy this end!
...
27 June 2009
Home alone
Saturday, 27 June 2009
It was a long and busy week up in NJ. Both Jessy and I have worked almost every shift at the ice-cream parlour since we got up there. We don't take a salary-- it's the family's business, and June is usually a pretty rough start on the season, with most of the girls not knowing what their schedules will be and when they're actually able to be done with school and all. Wednesday we had off completely, and spent the day on the beach with little Lisa. Thursday we were on the the morning, and then Daddy had promised to drive the two of us over to Tuckerton in the jet boat for lunch at Stewart's root beer which is right on the water at the seaport museum there. That was a nice time. The jet boat is blindingly fast, if the water is flat, which it was. I think Daddy said we hit 65 MPH. That feels like about twice that when it's on the water. Jessy and I sat in back by the roar of the motor and squealed like blonde bimbos. Daddy laughed.
We worked Thursday night and then Friday morning, and finally I begged out of one shift in order to see Stephen. Friday evening Roger arrived and drove me down in the dark-green Cadillac to Terncote, where I got dressed in something nice (blue paisley dress and heels) before Stephen showed up to take me to dinner. I felt very elegant, the acting lady of the house when he arrived. I had never been so fully alone here-- the other times my parents and siblings have been absent from home but close by-- now they were over 4 hours' drive away! But, no worries-- it's all proper between us. Stephen just took my hand and handed me into the car and we went out to the nice place on the water in Onancock, where we toasted ourselves on a kind of reunion.
I got in at about 11.00 after a very pleasant walk along the waterfront (I shall not say more!). I just undressed, washed up, and ended up on the computer till late. This morning I awoke rather late and decided I would not care. Daddy rang at about noon, asked how my date had gone, and then wanted to know when I would be back. I felt completely indolent and asked if I could stay on here another day and come back up after church tomorrow.
'Well, I don't see why not,' he said, 'if you really feel like being alone.'
I laughed. 'Well, you know me, Daddy... I'm just doing nothing.'
'Hmmm,' he said. 'As long as there's not something you're not telling me.'
I thought for a moment and realised what he probably meant. 'Daddy! But I tell you everything.'
'All right,' he said.
'Really, I do. Stephen dropped me at the door and we said our goodnights--' I said no more about that-- 'and he made sure I got into the house and left. And I called him when I knew the house was safe. That's all.'
He hesitated on the phone. 'Are you going out today too?'
'Um, no. He's working... and then supposed to go bowling with his people.'
'Oh. So, what will you do today then?'
I shrugged. 'Probably lie out back. I do want to clean my bathroom. I will clean Jessy's too, if I'm not a total mess. That's about it.'
'All right. Your mother wants someone to look in on the geraniums. You might weed a little back there too. You'll be out in the sun, and....'
'Yes, Daddy. All right. I will do that.'
'Keep to the house and the garden,' he told me. 'Call us if you're going out and when you get back. I don't want to not hear from you today.'
I smiled. 'Yes, Daddy.'
So I did clean my bathroom, I did get to be a total mess, and I crawled-- actually crawled-- from mine out my door and across the hall to the one Jessy and Lisa use and I did theirs too. Usually I clean my bathroom before I get dressed, often in connection with having a shower, like on a weekend. It's a messy job and some cleaners can damage clothing dyes, you know. By the time I was done with that I smelled of Lysol and my hands were all dried out and I still had not had a shower, so I rinsed out all the cleaning stuff and left the bathroom fans on and windows open, and I went down stairs and dove right into the pool. And I did about twelve laps and then lolled in the corner of the pool staring up at the sun till I decided I had better put on sunblock.
I lay in the chaise at the side of the house for about two hours. This is extraordinarily long for me-- I had on SPF 45 and kept turning over, but I really do think I got unusually dark today. Daddy had said to keep to the garden, but it becomes hot there inside the surrounding wall and the sun reflection off green grass is always cooler than that off paving blocks and potting soil. There is a 'fringe', as we call it, of tall untended grass about five yards wide separating the lawn from the salt marsh of the bay, and it grows tall enough that boaters really can't see us lying in the chaises here. So it's safe enough. However I did hear a peculiarly smooth engine drone approaching. The sound of a boat approaching usually waves with the water-- it's never a single steady tone. I opened my eyes and there, coming right down the edge of the bay, was a high-winged airplane. I had my hand over my eyes against the sun and there was no chance to cover myself... so apparently I was a vision for the pilot and his passengers down here on the chaise as they flew right over me at about 60 MPH and about 250 feet up. Oh, well.
When I got up I had another dip in the pool and then went in for tea. I really have done nothing much of anything at all-- definitely have not weeded or swept out back and definitely don't want to now. I will go to church in the morning-- in the Regal-- and drive up by myself to the ferry at Lewes. I really should stop in at the old house but I am supposedly working at the parlour at 7 and would like to get there early. Also, I miss Jessy. All that remains is to find a good book to read on the ferry ride-- I have read pretty much everything in this room already....
It was a long and busy week up in NJ. Both Jessy and I have worked almost every shift at the ice-cream parlour since we got up there. We don't take a salary-- it's the family's business, and June is usually a pretty rough start on the season, with most of the girls not knowing what their schedules will be and when they're actually able to be done with school and all. Wednesday we had off completely, and spent the day on the beach with little Lisa. Thursday we were on the the morning, and then Daddy had promised to drive the two of us over to Tuckerton in the jet boat for lunch at Stewart's root beer which is right on the water at the seaport museum there. That was a nice time. The jet boat is blindingly fast, if the water is flat, which it was. I think Daddy said we hit 65 MPH. That feels like about twice that when it's on the water. Jessy and I sat in back by the roar of the motor and squealed like blonde bimbos. Daddy laughed.
We worked Thursday night and then Friday morning, and finally I begged out of one shift in order to see Stephen. Friday evening Roger arrived and drove me down in the dark-green Cadillac to Terncote, where I got dressed in something nice (blue paisley dress and heels) before Stephen showed up to take me to dinner. I felt very elegant, the acting lady of the house when he arrived. I had never been so fully alone here-- the other times my parents and siblings have been absent from home but close by-- now they were over 4 hours' drive away! But, no worries-- it's all proper between us. Stephen just took my hand and handed me into the car and we went out to the nice place on the water in Onancock, where we toasted ourselves on a kind of reunion.
I got in at about 11.00 after a very pleasant walk along the waterfront (I shall not say more!). I just undressed, washed up, and ended up on the computer till late. This morning I awoke rather late and decided I would not care. Daddy rang at about noon, asked how my date had gone, and then wanted to know when I would be back. I felt completely indolent and asked if I could stay on here another day and come back up after church tomorrow.
'Well, I don't see why not,' he said, 'if you really feel like being alone.'
I laughed. 'Well, you know me, Daddy... I'm just doing nothing.'
'Hmmm,' he said. 'As long as there's not something you're not telling me.'
I thought for a moment and realised what he probably meant. 'Daddy! But I tell you everything.'
'All right,' he said.
'Really, I do. Stephen dropped me at the door and we said our goodnights--' I said no more about that-- 'and he made sure I got into the house and left. And I called him when I knew the house was safe. That's all.'
He hesitated on the phone. 'Are you going out today too?'
'Um, no. He's working... and then supposed to go bowling with his people.'
'Oh. So, what will you do today then?'
I shrugged. 'Probably lie out back. I do want to clean my bathroom. I will clean Jessy's too, if I'm not a total mess. That's about it.'
'All right. Your mother wants someone to look in on the geraniums. You might weed a little back there too. You'll be out in the sun, and....'
'Yes, Daddy. All right. I will do that.'
'Keep to the house and the garden,' he told me. 'Call us if you're going out and when you get back. I don't want to not hear from you today.'
I smiled. 'Yes, Daddy.'
So I did clean my bathroom, I did get to be a total mess, and I crawled-- actually crawled-- from mine out my door and across the hall to the one Jessy and Lisa use and I did theirs too. Usually I clean my bathroom before I get dressed, often in connection with having a shower, like on a weekend. It's a messy job and some cleaners can damage clothing dyes, you know. By the time I was done with that I smelled of Lysol and my hands were all dried out and I still had not had a shower, so I rinsed out all the cleaning stuff and left the bathroom fans on and windows open, and I went down stairs and dove right into the pool. And I did about twelve laps and then lolled in the corner of the pool staring up at the sun till I decided I had better put on sunblock.
I lay in the chaise at the side of the house for about two hours. This is extraordinarily long for me-- I had on SPF 45 and kept turning over, but I really do think I got unusually dark today. Daddy had said to keep to the garden, but it becomes hot there inside the surrounding wall and the sun reflection off green grass is always cooler than that off paving blocks and potting soil. There is a 'fringe', as we call it, of tall untended grass about five yards wide separating the lawn from the salt marsh of the bay, and it grows tall enough that boaters really can't see us lying in the chaises here. So it's safe enough. However I did hear a peculiarly smooth engine drone approaching. The sound of a boat approaching usually waves with the water-- it's never a single steady tone. I opened my eyes and there, coming right down the edge of the bay, was a high-winged airplane. I had my hand over my eyes against the sun and there was no chance to cover myself... so apparently I was a vision for the pilot and his passengers down here on the chaise as they flew right over me at about 60 MPH and about 250 feet up. Oh, well.
When I got up I had another dip in the pool and then went in for tea. I really have done nothing much of anything at all-- definitely have not weeded or swept out back and definitely don't want to now. I will go to church in the morning-- in the Regal-- and drive up by myself to the ferry at Lewes. I really should stop in at the old house but I am supposedly working at the parlour at 7 and would like to get there early. Also, I miss Jessy. All that remains is to find a good book to read on the ferry ride-- I have read pretty much everything in this room already....
31 May 2009
Such is the gentle life.
Whitsunday, 31 May 2009
As we are back in the US again we must become used to American ways all over again, and one of them is the way the church here celebrates Whitsunday as 'Pentecost' and emphasises the colour red. Jessy and I would be unswayed however and with Lisa we all wore white. We each have a new soft cotton dress, and I wore my white sandals. Of course at church half the people teased us-- 'You forgot to wear red!' --none of the poor dears knowing that we really were commemorating the day, only in a different way. There were two baptisms as this is a traditional day for it, but, unusually, one was an adult-- a mother and a the newborn (actually about 2 months old). Then there was the usual reception with tea and doughnuts and all, which Daddy and Mother wanted to stay for since it meant we did not have to go out for pancakes.
At home I rang Dottie at the ice-cream parlour up in New Jersey, because I promised to, just to find out how she was doing. So by the time I was ready to go outside the cloudiness and drizzle had cleared up. I put away the dress and sandals and in my underthings went into Jessy's room, where she was complaining about not being able to go all bare outside. After some comforting I got her to come out with Lisa and me anyway. I went out in my panties too, to not let Jessy feel left out, but she was still a little miffed that my panties were white. Hers could not be-- she of course had worn a slip with her white dress to church.
And little Lisa went bare, such as she is prone to do. She doesn't have these problems!
We did not merely lie out but did a bit of straightening-up round the yard, as the recent rains have cluttered the side yard with sticks from the trees and so on. We rearranged some potted plants round the bottom of the steps from the upper garden and finally dragged our chaises down to the lawn to settle in. The sun was very bright, even intense, which was what we wanted. Jessy and I imposed on Lisa to put the lotion on our backs. She never minds this-- she considers it an honour. Of course I put it all over her too. She giggles when you rub lotion onto her bottom. I always make sure to tickle her because that's sort of called-for when she is only 5 and prone to giggling.
When we moved the chaises down we sort of set them up a little closer to the water. The walled garden is very formal and solid, with plenty of rip and even a spare little beach between the easternmost wall and the water of the Bay. But the yards to either side just sort of roll down in a series of shallow terraces till a fringe of grass is separating the area we maintain from a short dune and then the sand and the water. The fringe of grass is never trimmed and so provides a kind of screen between the fishermen's eyes and where we lie. I have never felt uncomfortable lying there. I am quite sure none of them would ever even think to look for us with binoculars and as I said I don't think they would see us. So last summer we gradually came to make this our usual sunning zone. Because of the wall we are out of sight from the first storey if anyone should happen to come over-- although we'd still have the problem of sneaking back into the house!
I nodded off-- too many late nights online I am sure! --and had a very bizarre dream about these horrible steel frames which rolled on a track and you put scrap metal into them to burn so that they would move together, which was the end. And some terrorist group was using them as an execution device. One prisoner I had become friendly with and I remember reaching out and holding his hand in farewell, saying, 'I love you, brother!' And he said, 'I am safe now.- --meaning he was in God's hands. He knew I would be the last friendly human being he would see on this earth. And I woke up shaking.
Jessy was out of her chaise and wandering down along the fringe of grass. There were boats out-- I wondered how modest she would be, but none of the boats seemed close enough to worry about. As I watched she said down cross-legged in the grass and toyed with a small stick. She was bored. She would rather have been naked. Lisa was long gone by this time-- she never lies long but wanders round the yard too, sometimes doing some questionably modest things herself-- once last summer we found her on the other side of the house exploring the construction site that would become the ballfield... and naked, but for her sneakers which she put on 'to be safe'. I got up and strolled down to where Jessy sat. 'What's wrong?'
She shrugged. I watched her toy with the stick for a bit and then she looked up at me. 'We're not going to be able to do this at the Shore,' she said.
Both of us are intending to work at the ice-cream parlour this summer. We'll be staying in our old house, the little house Daddy built on the beach when he and Mommy were first married. It's cosy, but of course the beach there is very popular with even unsavoury characters and there's no opportunity do do as we do here. I folded my legs under me and sat down. 'I know,' I said. 'But we'll be back often. Dottie's giving us a very lenient schedule.'
'I know....' She leaned back on her hands and stretched out her legs. 'I didn't think I would love here, and now I do.'
I smiled at her. 'Because of this?'
She shrugged. In that pose it looked very cute. 'Yes.... And the house. And the quiet. And because of Daddy.'
'Daddy?'
'He loves it here,' she said. 'He's busy all the time. He scarcely even works now. And now with the ballfield....'
I knew what she meant. Daddy drives over on the tractor and mows the whole outfield and surrounding yard as well as our own. You would think someone like him would be content to hire someone-- but the only paid people who do our yard are for cleaning the pool and trimming the trees with that tall thing on the arm. He actually enjoys driving round in circles on that tractor, often with little JJ on the 'copilot seat' (which is a seat with a seatbelt he bolted to the fender beside his seat in his lap) or in the trailer with Lisa. We see very few visitors here, being so far away from all our usual acquaintance. And we did not go away for New Year's and scarcely have gone anywhere since. I feel as Jessy does-- that when we are working up in New Jersey this summer I will miss this place terribly. It's become a home in more than a physical sense.
Little Lisa came running-- I mean really running, full tilt-- round the front corner of the house and down the whole yard to where we sat. 'You guys!' she said. And she skidded to a halt and slid in on her side beside us in the grass. 'What are you doing?'
'Talking,' Jessy told her.
'Ha-ha-ha. Is it girl talk?'
I turned at her. 'What if it is? You're a girl.'
'Ha. Yes I am.' And she shrugged, as though unsure of that. But really there isn't much we refuse to talk about in front of her. What she doesn't get doesn't matter. 'So are you going steady with Stephen?'
I smiled at her. So did Jessy. 'That's not exactly what we were talking about, you know. But, for your information, no, I'm not.'
'Ohhh. Did he ask you?'
'No.'
She nodded, understanding that. 'Does he have another girlfriend?'
I laughed. 'No.'
'Then why hasn't he asked you?'
Lisa is adorable when she gets like this. The first reason is because she has about half of Mother's Anglican Australian accent-- she uses words like 'hasn't' well and never seems to say anything that's not well said, meaning articulately pronounced. The other thing is that she's uncommonly persistent. She doesn't actually nag and she never really becomes a nuisance-- if you just tell her you'd rather stop talking about this she will respect that and stop. But she will ask everything that comes into her mind and she asks it because she really does want to know the answer. She is clearly the precocious product of a brilliant and charming mother, a mature and worldly father, and two older sisters who converse with her like an equal. She is the epitome of the 'triple threat' and will be absolutely terrifying to puerile boys (and the men they grow up to be) some day.
(The 'triple threat' is what Mother calls the concept of being good-looking, intelligent, and virtuous, to the point where most men are completely stymied. Invariably they can accept two out of three. It's that third one that drives them nuts. But, as Mother says, it's what all decent and intelligent men really want. It only falls to the men to figure that out, appreciate it for what it is, and then lift themselves out of the gutter to deserve you. Invariably they can do two out of three. It's that third one that they give up on.)
We got up and with Lisa holding each of our hands strolled back along the lawn towards the chaises. When we were halfway there Daddy came round the corner with the tractor and JJ on the 'copilot seat'. Seeing us he hit the horn and raced the tractor towards us. Lisa giggled, let go of our hands, and ran off towards the trees squealing as though she were being chased. Daddy stopped the tractor and then she approached him, warily, standing a few yards away and hooking her fingers in front of herself and twirlling on her heels like she does when she's being bashful. Before we got there Daddy had put JJ down and the two of them ran hand-in-hand up the garden steps to the house.
'What is it?' I called.
'Nothing,' he said. 'Tea. That's all.'
We both nodded. Jessy paced off towards the steps, not saying anything. I stopped beside Daddy in the idling tractor.
'What's with her?' he asked me.
'She's just being pensive,' I said. 'She says she will miss being here this summer.'
'Well, I don't expect you two to be gone all the time.'
'No,' I said, 'I don't expect us to either.'
'I would miss you,' he said.
I smiled at that. The house at the beach is his house-- he can come and go as he likes. What he was saying is that he would prefer to be here, or at Lewes. He has become gentry-- I hid a laugh at the notion of my father the ex-performer taking the peace of his own 'vine and fig tree'. This is his house and the husbandry of it is what he loves best. So-- is that what we have come to? We are gentry? My father has land, tenants in houses, even a tenant farmer and gardener, so that must mean I am a gentleman's daughter. Well-- there might be worse things to be.
...
As we are back in the US again we must become used to American ways all over again, and one of them is the way the church here celebrates Whitsunday as 'Pentecost' and emphasises the colour red. Jessy and I would be unswayed however and with Lisa we all wore white. We each have a new soft cotton dress, and I wore my white sandals. Of course at church half the people teased us-- 'You forgot to wear red!' --none of the poor dears knowing that we really were commemorating the day, only in a different way. There were two baptisms as this is a traditional day for it, but, unusually, one was an adult-- a mother and a the newborn (actually about 2 months old). Then there was the usual reception with tea and doughnuts and all, which Daddy and Mother wanted to stay for since it meant we did not have to go out for pancakes.
At home I rang Dottie at the ice-cream parlour up in New Jersey, because I promised to, just to find out how she was doing. So by the time I was ready to go outside the cloudiness and drizzle had cleared up. I put away the dress and sandals and in my underthings went into Jessy's room, where she was complaining about not being able to go all bare outside. After some comforting I got her to come out with Lisa and me anyway. I went out in my panties too, to not let Jessy feel left out, but she was still a little miffed that my panties were white. Hers could not be-- she of course had worn a slip with her white dress to church.
And little Lisa went bare, such as she is prone to do. She doesn't have these problems!
We did not merely lie out but did a bit of straightening-up round the yard, as the recent rains have cluttered the side yard with sticks from the trees and so on. We rearranged some potted plants round the bottom of the steps from the upper garden and finally dragged our chaises down to the lawn to settle in. The sun was very bright, even intense, which was what we wanted. Jessy and I imposed on Lisa to put the lotion on our backs. She never minds this-- she considers it an honour. Of course I put it all over her too. She giggles when you rub lotion onto her bottom. I always make sure to tickle her because that's sort of called-for when she is only 5 and prone to giggling.
When we moved the chaises down we sort of set them up a little closer to the water. The walled garden is very formal and solid, with plenty of rip and even a spare little beach between the easternmost wall and the water of the Bay. But the yards to either side just sort of roll down in a series of shallow terraces till a fringe of grass is separating the area we maintain from a short dune and then the sand and the water. The fringe of grass is never trimmed and so provides a kind of screen between the fishermen's eyes and where we lie. I have never felt uncomfortable lying there. I am quite sure none of them would ever even think to look for us with binoculars and as I said I don't think they would see us. So last summer we gradually came to make this our usual sunning zone. Because of the wall we are out of sight from the first storey if anyone should happen to come over-- although we'd still have the problem of sneaking back into the house!
I nodded off-- too many late nights online I am sure! --and had a very bizarre dream about these horrible steel frames which rolled on a track and you put scrap metal into them to burn so that they would move together, which was the end. And some terrorist group was using them as an execution device. One prisoner I had become friendly with and I remember reaching out and holding his hand in farewell, saying, 'I love you, brother!' And he said, 'I am safe now.- --meaning he was in God's hands. He knew I would be the last friendly human being he would see on this earth. And I woke up shaking.
Jessy was out of her chaise and wandering down along the fringe of grass. There were boats out-- I wondered how modest she would be, but none of the boats seemed close enough to worry about. As I watched she said down cross-legged in the grass and toyed with a small stick. She was bored. She would rather have been naked. Lisa was long gone by this time-- she never lies long but wanders round the yard too, sometimes doing some questionably modest things herself-- once last summer we found her on the other side of the house exploring the construction site that would become the ballfield... and naked, but for her sneakers which she put on 'to be safe'. I got up and strolled down to where Jessy sat. 'What's wrong?'
She shrugged. I watched her toy with the stick for a bit and then she looked up at me. 'We're not going to be able to do this at the Shore,' she said.
Both of us are intending to work at the ice-cream parlour this summer. We'll be staying in our old house, the little house Daddy built on the beach when he and Mommy were first married. It's cosy, but of course the beach there is very popular with even unsavoury characters and there's no opportunity do do as we do here. I folded my legs under me and sat down. 'I know,' I said. 'But we'll be back often. Dottie's giving us a very lenient schedule.'
'I know....' She leaned back on her hands and stretched out her legs. 'I didn't think I would love here, and now I do.'
I smiled at her. 'Because of this?'
She shrugged. In that pose it looked very cute. 'Yes.... And the house. And the quiet. And because of Daddy.'
'Daddy?'
'He loves it here,' she said. 'He's busy all the time. He scarcely even works now. And now with the ballfield....'
I knew what she meant. Daddy drives over on the tractor and mows the whole outfield and surrounding yard as well as our own. You would think someone like him would be content to hire someone-- but the only paid people who do our yard are for cleaning the pool and trimming the trees with that tall thing on the arm. He actually enjoys driving round in circles on that tractor, often with little JJ on the 'copilot seat' (which is a seat with a seatbelt he bolted to the fender beside his seat in his lap) or in the trailer with Lisa. We see very few visitors here, being so far away from all our usual acquaintance. And we did not go away for New Year's and scarcely have gone anywhere since. I feel as Jessy does-- that when we are working up in New Jersey this summer I will miss this place terribly. It's become a home in more than a physical sense.
Little Lisa came running-- I mean really running, full tilt-- round the front corner of the house and down the whole yard to where we sat. 'You guys!' she said. And she skidded to a halt and slid in on her side beside us in the grass. 'What are you doing?'
'Talking,' Jessy told her.
'Ha-ha-ha. Is it girl talk?'
I turned at her. 'What if it is? You're a girl.'
'Ha. Yes I am.' And she shrugged, as though unsure of that. But really there isn't much we refuse to talk about in front of her. What she doesn't get doesn't matter. 'So are you going steady with Stephen?'
I smiled at her. So did Jessy. 'That's not exactly what we were talking about, you know. But, for your information, no, I'm not.'
'Ohhh. Did he ask you?'
'No.'
She nodded, understanding that. 'Does he have another girlfriend?'
I laughed. 'No.'
'Then why hasn't he asked you?'
Lisa is adorable when she gets like this. The first reason is because she has about half of Mother's Anglican Australian accent-- she uses words like 'hasn't' well and never seems to say anything that's not well said, meaning articulately pronounced. The other thing is that she's uncommonly persistent. She doesn't actually nag and she never really becomes a nuisance-- if you just tell her you'd rather stop talking about this she will respect that and stop. But she will ask everything that comes into her mind and she asks it because she really does want to know the answer. She is clearly the precocious product of a brilliant and charming mother, a mature and worldly father, and two older sisters who converse with her like an equal. She is the epitome of the 'triple threat' and will be absolutely terrifying to puerile boys (and the men they grow up to be) some day.
(The 'triple threat' is what Mother calls the concept of being good-looking, intelligent, and virtuous, to the point where most men are completely stymied. Invariably they can accept two out of three. It's that third one that drives them nuts. But, as Mother says, it's what all decent and intelligent men really want. It only falls to the men to figure that out, appreciate it for what it is, and then lift themselves out of the gutter to deserve you. Invariably they can do two out of three. It's that third one that they give up on.)
We got up and with Lisa holding each of our hands strolled back along the lawn towards the chaises. When we were halfway there Daddy came round the corner with the tractor and JJ on the 'copilot seat'. Seeing us he hit the horn and raced the tractor towards us. Lisa giggled, let go of our hands, and ran off towards the trees squealing as though she were being chased. Daddy stopped the tractor and then she approached him, warily, standing a few yards away and hooking her fingers in front of herself and twirlling on her heels like she does when she's being bashful. Before we got there Daddy had put JJ down and the two of them ran hand-in-hand up the garden steps to the house.
'What is it?' I called.
'Nothing,' he said. 'Tea. That's all.'
We both nodded. Jessy paced off towards the steps, not saying anything. I stopped beside Daddy in the idling tractor.
'What's with her?' he asked me.
'She's just being pensive,' I said. 'She says she will miss being here this summer.'
'Well, I don't expect you two to be gone all the time.'
'No,' I said, 'I don't expect us to either.'
'I would miss you,' he said.
I smiled at that. The house at the beach is his house-- he can come and go as he likes. What he was saying is that he would prefer to be here, or at Lewes. He has become gentry-- I hid a laugh at the notion of my father the ex-performer taking the peace of his own 'vine and fig tree'. This is his house and the husbandry of it is what he loves best. So-- is that what we have come to? We are gentry? My father has land, tenants in houses, even a tenant farmer and gardener, so that must mean I am a gentleman's daughter. Well-- there might be worse things to be.
...
26 May 2009
On polite dancing
Monday evening, May 25th
It's about 11.30. The Memorial Day weekend is come and gone and I type this in the back of the dark-green Cadillac at about 65 miles per hour on Route One in Delaware. Jessy is asleep in the other side of the seat. We closed the ice-cream parlour at about 9.00 and were able to leave right from there with our bags and prom gowns and everything. We're both still in the Colonial gear-- Jessy has loosened her stays (she scarcely needs them anyway) and we're both barefoot, which is common for us anyway.
Daddy and Mother and the little ones are staying at the beach house tonight-- Lisa will miss a day of kindergarten and return home tomorrow. Jessy and I will have school at 7.45 as usual-- Roger will drive us. And Dottie will manage the ice-cream parlour as it goes into that weird schedule between Memorial Day and the end of school, when hours are shorter and the staff are less available till they know what their summer will bring.
I face the next few weeks with some degree of anxiety. I recognise that Stephen respects me, even likes me, for what I did at the prom, which I believed at the time and still believe was only simple human courtesy. Vanessa's moronic date doesn't have that concept. He is like what I assume too many people are nowadays, especially in America-- crass, selfish, without any understanding of the larger issues in life. In fact Vanessa is probably only just like him, though I don't know her very well and maybe that's unfair. But Stephen is different. We all understood why he was elected prom king-- he deserves it for being an all-round nice guy who is smart, entertaining, and mannerly. He is what we should all want to admire about people our age. And it broke my heart when Vanessa's date, a guy whose name we don't even know, stepped on his feelings like that. It's the king-and-queen dance! No one ever said they are a couple! And what is it about dancing in this country that makes people believe it's always about romance? Don't people realise there are many, many, other reasons to have a dance with a guy? Since I have been tall enough to look like a woman I have danced at formal affairs, with guys my age, even younger boys, and also older men, other people's fathers, my own father-- is that about romance? Dancing is just a social activity, it's what you do when you're at a party, especially a formal one. Sometimes-- as it's been with me-- it's been political. Sometimes there are men you simply cannot decline-- to be seen with them makes me look good, makes my family look good, makes my father look good, and may get something accomplished. I have said this to people before and someone actually said it makes me a kind of prostitute-- but when my dad has told me I have to dance with this man or that man I have just got up and done it, because I knew there was a reason. And yes, even since I was about 14, about half of them have propositioned me-- may I say here that most of those were Americans. The British men I have danced with would never have presumed to ask. They recognised it was a dance. And the French men-- I shall not say here, but by no means did I feel awkward round them either. The Frenchman places his hand a little too low on your hip, more like on the top of your bottom. Exactly once did I reposition a guy's hand, but I was a little too immature then, and I came to accept that it's just how they are. The Englishman places his hand on your side, at the bottom of your ribs. It's very proper. The Japanese man does too. The American doesn't know where to put his hand-- he tends to take your lead. If you put your hand on his shoulder, he puts his on your back and pulls you closer. If you put yours on his arm, he puts his on your side and keeps a distance. He seems afraid to look like he's trying something, because inside he really wants to be be trying something, but living in denial about his true motives he has to go to all this effort to make it look like he's not trying what he's really trying to come up with a way to try. He is a teakettle nearly boiling over, and stupidly he holds down that little cap as though that can even work, and the whistle comes out in some other way, usually in the look in his eyes. He looks at you like he wants to possess you, to consume you. When I see that look I just want to get out of there.
And I have danced with many men of my father's generation who were fathers themselves, and they will ask me about school, or about my college plans, or about whom I'm dating-- like the way any father would. When I don't care to talk too much about that I will ask the man about what he does, how he likes his profession, what his goals are, you know. Men like to tell us about that. They think we are impressed. I am usually not impressed by careers and accomplishments and goals and such-- it's only a courtesy to start a conversation that makes him feel comfortable. What impresses me is when a gentleman can have a dance with a girl who is not his daughter or his date and be able to look her in the eye and converse about something of substance. We don't want you to look down at our chest, we don't want you to hold our bottom, we don't want to hear any sleasy pickup lines, and we don't want to look like you possess us. What makes us respect you most is when you respect us. And you've a far better chance of having us want to go off to somewhere private with you if we respect you-- because what girl would go off with a man she doesn't respect?-- and would you really want that girl?
I am resolved-- the very next time Stephen asks me to dance, I will accept.
...
It's about 11.30. The Memorial Day weekend is come and gone and I type this in the back of the dark-green Cadillac at about 65 miles per hour on Route One in Delaware. Jessy is asleep in the other side of the seat. We closed the ice-cream parlour at about 9.00 and were able to leave right from there with our bags and prom gowns and everything. We're both still in the Colonial gear-- Jessy has loosened her stays (she scarcely needs them anyway) and we're both barefoot, which is common for us anyway.
Daddy and Mother and the little ones are staying at the beach house tonight-- Lisa will miss a day of kindergarten and return home tomorrow. Jessy and I will have school at 7.45 as usual-- Roger will drive us. And Dottie will manage the ice-cream parlour as it goes into that weird schedule between Memorial Day and the end of school, when hours are shorter and the staff are less available till they know what their summer will bring.
I face the next few weeks with some degree of anxiety. I recognise that Stephen respects me, even likes me, for what I did at the prom, which I believed at the time and still believe was only simple human courtesy. Vanessa's moronic date doesn't have that concept. He is like what I assume too many people are nowadays, especially in America-- crass, selfish, without any understanding of the larger issues in life. In fact Vanessa is probably only just like him, though I don't know her very well and maybe that's unfair. But Stephen is different. We all understood why he was elected prom king-- he deserves it for being an all-round nice guy who is smart, entertaining, and mannerly. He is what we should all want to admire about people our age. And it broke my heart when Vanessa's date, a guy whose name we don't even know, stepped on his feelings like that. It's the king-and-queen dance! No one ever said they are a couple! And what is it about dancing in this country that makes people believe it's always about romance? Don't people realise there are many, many, other reasons to have a dance with a guy? Since I have been tall enough to look like a woman I have danced at formal affairs, with guys my age, even younger boys, and also older men, other people's fathers, my own father-- is that about romance? Dancing is just a social activity, it's what you do when you're at a party, especially a formal one. Sometimes-- as it's been with me-- it's been political. Sometimes there are men you simply cannot decline-- to be seen with them makes me look good, makes my family look good, makes my father look good, and may get something accomplished. I have said this to people before and someone actually said it makes me a kind of prostitute-- but when my dad has told me I have to dance with this man or that man I have just got up and done it, because I knew there was a reason. And yes, even since I was about 14, about half of them have propositioned me-- may I say here that most of those were Americans. The British men I have danced with would never have presumed to ask. They recognised it was a dance. And the French men-- I shall not say here, but by no means did I feel awkward round them either. The Frenchman places his hand a little too low on your hip, more like on the top of your bottom. Exactly once did I reposition a guy's hand, but I was a little too immature then, and I came to accept that it's just how they are. The Englishman places his hand on your side, at the bottom of your ribs. It's very proper. The Japanese man does too. The American doesn't know where to put his hand-- he tends to take your lead. If you put your hand on his shoulder, he puts his on your back and pulls you closer. If you put yours on his arm, he puts his on your side and keeps a distance. He seems afraid to look like he's trying something, because inside he really wants to be be trying something, but living in denial about his true motives he has to go to all this effort to make it look like he's not trying what he's really trying to come up with a way to try. He is a teakettle nearly boiling over, and stupidly he holds down that little cap as though that can even work, and the whistle comes out in some other way, usually in the look in his eyes. He looks at you like he wants to possess you, to consume you. When I see that look I just want to get out of there.
And I have danced with many men of my father's generation who were fathers themselves, and they will ask me about school, or about my college plans, or about whom I'm dating-- like the way any father would. When I don't care to talk too much about that I will ask the man about what he does, how he likes his profession, what his goals are, you know. Men like to tell us about that. They think we are impressed. I am usually not impressed by careers and accomplishments and goals and such-- it's only a courtesy to start a conversation that makes him feel comfortable. What impresses me is when a gentleman can have a dance with a girl who is not his daughter or his date and be able to look her in the eye and converse about something of substance. We don't want you to look down at our chest, we don't want you to hold our bottom, we don't want to hear any sleasy pickup lines, and we don't want to look like you possess us. What makes us respect you most is when you respect us. And you've a far better chance of having us want to go off to somewhere private with you if we respect you-- because what girl would go off with a man she doesn't respect?-- and would you really want that girl?
I am resolved-- the very next time Stephen asks me to dance, I will accept.
...
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