I did have ideas for two or three pithy (I thought) posts I wanted to write during the course of August.
A recap of the celebrity shoulders against whom I "rubbed." This place is rife with celebs in the summer, from A to ZZZ. However, I had degrees of contact with Judith Jamison, Forest Whitaker, Russell Simmons, Heather Mills, Senator Joe Lieberman, and Bruce Springsteen & family. The first three comprise one story, the fourth, fifth, and last, have their own, one tinged mightily with reminiscences of my junior year in high school at the Jersey Shore.
But they will have to wait. All of them.
As will further musings about tennis pros, the coming clean of the one-night seduction by a much younger man, my burgeoning career as "the singing realtor," courtesy of karaoke at a famous local joint in Amagansett, another in Sag Harbor, the latter to hold us over the winter.
For yes, I will stay out here now - I've committed to the next twelve months. I keep making comparisons to Boulder, CO in my head. I'll need to put words to those ideas.
But not today.
For you more enterprising readers, go on-line and search Portland, Oregon's local news headlines for Friday, September 7, 2007. There you will find a story about a double murder-suicide. One of the murdered was my sister. The other was my five-year-old niece. My sister's husband committed all acts.
I am tired of talking and writing about it.