I ate my sad little cheese sandwich, just two slices of cheese in between bread, that’s what was left in my house, then I went swimming in the ocean and it was beyond great, and then I came back on the sand and ate the rest of the watermelon, I even drank the juice. A pretty great day with D. and A.


K. and O. and I went swimming in the public pool, rolled out and up to the food carts and I got a pair of pupusas and K. got the sampler platter, O. ate mostly stick which was of course hilarious to O. especially, I wanted dessert and K. suggested fruit, I balked because fruit is not dessert it’s fruit, but as usual when it comes to eating, K. was totally right. Then O. suggested a game of red light/green light. My skills were honed from the library staff retreat.

The nicest part of the retreat barbecue was the giant dish of sauerkraut. Who knew how much I would enjoy that? It made the veggie burger that arrived very late taste all sauerkrauty, very nice aramark touch.

E. and A. ordered while C. and I sat in our bathrobes, platter after platter came and we ate, the pierogies were oily but real, watermelon perfect after all that time spread out on my back in the wet heat. I think I’m ready for another steam, I can’t remember who said it.

C., A., S., and I sat on our towels and sheets and bamboo mats and faced the ocean and I picked my way through the collective offerings, mouth full of sand and the beach umbrella blown over, but still, sun on my face, voices mixed with waves crashing, wearing my bright sunhat, all the queers out and in color, I expect a very good year.

Grilled chicken, onions, peppers, mushrooms, and zucchini were followed by slices of watermelon D. hacked up with the knife she brought with her. Then came paddling around in a kayak looking at the city and the water and the Statue of Liberty, waving to L. and A. on shore, watching D. in her kayaking hat go farther and farther out into the currents–she’s a brave one. I paddled back in to shore to a fat slice of coconut cake–coconut somehow became the primary flavor palate of my 34th year–in my new easy-carry outdoor chair. Because I love L. enough that I’ll admit to things I’m not especially proud of, things like Now that I’m old I don’t want to sit on the ground anymore, I want to sit in a chair when I’m outside. And L. doesn’t simply roll eyes at my bourgeois tendencies and stop calling. L. goes out and gets me a chair. It was hot, the sun out for the first time in days, a gift, the whole good day.