The Seagull's Revenge

For our harbor islands tour, we took along a partial sack of stale movie popcorn to feed the seagulls. They ate it and retreated to a puddle where they could get the salty taste out of their beaks. A few minutes later a seagull deposited a disgusting mess on my 4th best T-shirt. Fortunately, I had a cotton sweater that I could wear so that I didn't have to wear the yellow "S" all afternoon.

Actually I was shat on twice this week, the second time by a fellow writer who used such comforting terms as "sentences are so choppy . . . characters such smart-asses. . . no editor is going to get past the first paragraph before rejecting it."

And maybe that is actually happening. If I hadn't had editors and agents tell me I was a good writer, I'd be desolate. Now I'm just . . . bemused.

My characters are computer types who are not the most touch-feely people in the world, because they are mostly thinkers, not feelers. Although scratch a thinker and you will au fond, find a feeler. Of course, a few were feelers, and deciders. We did a TDF session in our IT department once, and 85 percent were thinkers. The thinkers were all exhausted by a full day or having to interact with others. . . we wanted to be in our cubicles programming.

The "feelers" went home energized. I don't know what writers are. Or readers. Apparently I don't know much of anything. Does that make me like Socrates?

Doubt it.

The fireworks after the Pawsox game were totally awesome, as was the traffic after the game. We ate all the junk foods except cheese fries and cotton candy. I draw the line somewhere.

Back to my awful characters and bad sentences.

Cheers!

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Island in the Stream

Yesterday we left on a small ferry for a tour of the Boston Harbor Islands. The first adventure was finding the ferry dock, as the Google directions were well, basically wrong, or obscure. I don't know. Three adults couldn't figure it out.

We found the place, no sign, and got on board a tiny ferry which took us to Grape, Bumpkin, Hull, and finally Georges Island, where we found a huge old civil war fort, picnic tables, seagulls, and a pleasant place to while away the afternoon.

Took our lunch and beverages and even a table cloth but no booze.

Enjoyed the harbor views, the colorful markings of where the lobster traps were set, the buoys, and the whole nautical ambiance.

Arrived home via the GPS, which we should have programmed to take us there, but we have found the programming sometimes takes longer than getting there. Anyway, GSP took us thru the back roads of Quincy and to a spot where we could navigate from. Quincy is one of the worst towns ever to find your way around in, and they don't believe in a lot of street signs and certainly do like to keep the local tourist bamboozled. I wouldn't even want to think of the non-local tourist. It would be ugly.

Today we're seeing a Pawsox game and the fireworks afterward. Dinner at the ball park. Tomorrow we're doing the tacos we didn't cook last night. So tired we treked to the 99 and had a bang up meal of prime rib and barbequed ribs and deep fried asparagus, caesar salad, hey, we were hungry as well as pooped.

Tonight there will be 500,000 people at the Hatch shell and the fireworks, and we have decided this is just a bit much. Quite a bit much. And one can't line up on the Longfellow Bridge this year, always a good viewing spot.

I hope the music is better than past years. Sometimes they get carried away with pop music that isn't very good. I favor John Phillip Sousa on the 4th of July, along with the 1812 overture and patriotic songs. Can't help it. Just an old fashioned grrrrl.

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