The Last Lament

It’s that time of year again, when my internal clock starts revving into action, but somewhere along the way, I lost my power source and my clock is flashing 12:00, 12:00, 12:00. Of course you know what I’m taking about; not going to Provincetown this year. Somewhere around the beginning of June I start getting little flashes, little vignettes that last a only a millisecond each, at first, of being at any given spot on Commercial Street. As the month wears on, the visions become a little longer and begin to invoke the memory of sounds and smells and tastes.

And for me, summer officially begins when we arrive in town, in time for breakfast at The Post Office Café, usually a ham and cheddar omelette, even though the cheddar ends up being something white and stretchy, probably provolone and no matter where you go in town and order cheddar that’s what you get. There’s also a gin bloody Mary and coffee with that breakfast. I know it’s the season of summer, but I’m taking about the attitude of summer. And conversely, it ends when we get home. Otherwise the time between June and Labor Day are just hot sticky and insufferable days.

Apparently, our decision to not go to Provincetown this year has sent a ripple through the time space continuum. Our friend Bobby we travel with each year decided to cancel his trip. He didn’t want to go without us. But we’ll get together with him closer to home this year and keep the tradition of celebrating the 4th with each other going.

Also part of the traditional drive is watching DVD’s along the way while reciting the dialogue, proper inflection and all. The essential travel DVD’s are “The Women” (1939), “All About Eve” and the “Housewarming” episode of I Love Lucy.

Oh yeah, and get this, you know that Massachusetts school board that wanted to make condoms available for all students, including first graders? It was Provincetown, as it turns out. But they’ve since rescinded that decision and will now make them available only to fifth graders and above. Phew!

So, we have a few irons in the fire to help pass the holiday weekend and then whatever we come up with to do for the rest of our vacation will just be played by ear. And the irony of it all is that we’re still waiting for the permits so the work on the house can begin, which was part of the reason we decided not to go. But more importantly it was the money we’d save by staying home. And I’ll just have to wait one more year for that orgasmic French Onion Soup at Ross’ Grill and my customary 1-1/4 pound boiled lobster clam bake at The Lobster Pot. Everything will taste better.

Yikes, I almost forgot to show you who was sporting that frilly yellow bikini in yesterday’s Iconic Bathing Suit picture.

It was Sally Field, looking all cute Gidgety. Or maybe that’s what Sister Bertrille wore under her habit so she could take an off-screen dip in Carlos Ramirez’ pool. But we like her. We really like her! 

There is also a new logo and quote for July on the main page. You can click here to see those and while you’re there, you can see if McGinty and company have come in from the strawberry patch yet.

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