confession: i suggested pedicures. he picked the color. matching blue toenail polish is a daily souvenir of a bonding experience at pinky’s nail salon and spa in branford, connecticut.
confession: while people watching at airports i imagine what kinds of foods were eaten to create the bodies walking past me. my imaginings reflect regional tastes. nachos contribute to a well-endowed southwestern rear while a husky midwestern rear represents a fondness for cheese curds. (cheese often figures prominently in back ends, regardless of where one lives.)
confession: i chopped felled trees into smaller brush yesterday and felt lumberjack satisfied with my effort.
confession: a day and a half turnaround at home is all i can tolerate in texas heat. i unpacked my luggage directly into the washing machine. i’ll pack it tomorrow from the dryer.
confession: raw bar happy hour is the only time i prefer food to tequila at any hour. connecticut clams and oysters on the half shell happy-fy-ful-ness (add suffix of choice since we’re making up words) my whole being.
confession: prescription pill savvy traveler tip of the week–muscle relaxants are more effective than sleeping pills for every ailment one might take a pill.
confession: i have a thimble island thorn embedded in my big toe. a bit of connecticut burrowed inside me and i can’t get it out. i’ve tried tweezing, needling, and scissoring the little thorny sucker and it ain’t leaving.
confession: adults wearing 3D dog t-shirts remind me of middle school fashion fads. i bet every 3D dog t-shirt wearing person has a middle school photo of oneself wearing a coca-cola shirt.
confession: fancy sipping tequila glasses enhance the mezcal experience. (also true of fancy wine glasses and fancy whiskey glasses. glass-blowers are wise in the arts of glass-making and drinking.)
confession: frozen watermelon tequila adult slushies taste like summer and present as a prelude to jumping off the dock fully clothed.
confession: i let the giant rat-catching cat play rough with me. i’ve got scratches on both arms and legs that will last a while.
confession: i ate a lobster and homegrown tomato omelet for breakfast yesterday morning. (yeah, i’m gloating.) his mom bought the lobster from the fisherman who had caught it hours earlier, boiled it, and stuffed it into an omelet with her garden tomatoes for me. i tease him about being spoiled by his mother but i reap the benefits of spoiling-by- association while i am a guest in her home.