When will I ever learn?

What song is that from? I can hear it, a chorus, in my head, but can't name that tune. Says something about the state of my brain these days. I am hiding in our guest room, writing my next piece for Rural Intelligence, blogging (duh) and fighting a headache of unknown origin. Miraculously, the kidlets are leaving me more or less alone, though they discovered my hiding place about 30 minutes ago. I was reminded today of one of the lessons I had already learned (duh) about life in a small town. Why do I always need to be smacked on the head? Please, someone, tell me why.

We are hosting a political shindig here this weekend, donations to Obama and Gillibrand, our Congresswoman, encouraged. It started as an Obama fundraiser and morphed, without my instigation though without my opposition, into a joint event. Then, as I am wont to do, I checked out a bit--though I was happy to have the event here, I didn't want to run point on its many details. When I saw the invitation, I definitely blew a gasket--it was all about Gillibrand, no mention of Obama. I am a supporter of Gillibrand, but it wasn't what I'd signed up for, and I was frustrated. I complained to a friend or two, vented to John, told the other organizers my feelings--I was actually proud of myself for confronting the issue directly, rather than simply stewing. Long, boring story slightly less long---dinner party gossip began, and resulted in the real organizers being told that I wasn't even going to show up at my own party, so irate was I at the supposed omission of Obama. Worse, other people apparently started to say they wouldn't come either, as Obama was being left out of the event. Egads.

This is kind of like the time last year when lovely neighbors stopped by to let us know that we were the subject of gossip in town--rumor had it we were planning to tear down our barns, reasons unknown! Umm, no. No such plans. This is what it is to live in a small town--with not much new happening day to day, games of telephone begin and grievances are magnified; an off the cuff complaint turns into a showdown. I don't know the source of either set of rumors (though I'm sure I could speculate) and it ultimately doesn't matter. It's just a reminder of why, in this kind of an environment (as in an office, say) feelings are best kept close.


Oh me, oh my

What a month we're having. Unlike last month, which was full of doom and scares, this one has been busy, and full of friends, but still...phew. I am whipped. I haven't had so much work to do in, oh, the last five years (work work, you know, not the Domestic Management that sucks up my brain and energy all day, every day, no matter what. That is NOT a complaint. Not exactly, anyway. But I'm not sure where the work fits. Oh, right: that's what I should be doing now, instead of stream of consciousness blogging. Fine. Be that way.) Ok, so: we went to Maine, where we may have been the only folks to think that three days straight of drenching rain was just fine, such a good time we were having with our lovely and beloved friends. We had one glorious day, which we spent evenly divided between our dear friends' own little beaches (really, how spoiled are we? Very. Though perhaps not as spoiled as our dear ones, who are spending the whole summer on those lovely slices of sand and seaglass!) Then a long drive home in driving rain punctuated, rather dramatically, by slashes of lightning. I blared Tom Petty, hunched over the wheel, and powered through. We got home in time to recover for a day before my mom arrived for Dido's birthday, which was today. We got him a new bike, went out to lunch, played at home, baked a cake, and went out to his favorite restaurant. Tomorrow? Up early to visit the horses, then the day with mom and kids, more of same on Friday, with a column to finish and another to write, not to mention work due for two new projects. Have I mentioned, oh me, oh my?


Meet the Boys

That's Dacos, a thoroughbred ex-racer, on the left, and Sebastian, a Lippizaner, below.
Does anyone have any opinions about whether or not they should come and live with us? I'm taking votes.


Rural Intelligence

Let's hope I'm getting some. At the very least, I'm getting a dose of it from the so-named wonderful website that chronicles all things unmissable in the Berkshire-Columbia-Upper Dutchess-Litchfield Counties tristate area! Whew. That's a mouthful. As is the lovely recipe I wrote for them, published today. Check it out!