TheCapeBlog

I’ve had a couple of nice outings this week: a cruise to and from the Vineyard with Robert, a hike in the Mashpee Woodlands with the boys and a tour of IFAW’s new green headquarters with Emme and Robert yesterday.
Last evening, I ventured to Osterville for one of the Citizen’s Bank summer concerts, but ended up visiting the shops that were open for Wednesdays in Wianno.
Afterwards, I drove to the end of Seaview Avenue to West Bay, always a pleasure to see how the other 1/10 of 1% live, and then to Dowses Beach, where I watched and listened to the Least terns and plovers wage their age-old war against the gulls that pilfer their nests.

Organized and loaded the trash and recyclables for the transfer station run with Peter and Emme, stopped in for the first time ever to the Pow-Wow, had lunch with a very old friend from out of town whom I haven’t seen for 25+ years, talked with another friend on the phone, then picked up James and Robert and groceries for their overnight.
It’s almost 4:30, with miles to go before we sleep.

Yeah, I’ve actually heard these:
There are two working days between Friday afternoon and Monday.
I don’t have time for a code review (but I’ll have time to refactor your code after you leave).
It’s all about me.
Some other characteristics:
Plays favorites
Fits of rage or belittlement
Micromanagement
Unreasonable expectations
Good questions to ask in the interview:
Ten Warning Signs of a Toxic Boss

Started off with some raking and watering, then cleaned out the frig, paid bills, dropped in on a neighborhood party, watched part of the Twilight Zone marathon.
Crossed the bridge to Wareham, where I picked up a “beauty sheet” at my friend Carolyn’s old cottage, checked out a concert in Onset Village, then spent the rest of the day at the machatonim’s waterfront house in Cromesset.
The kids and I went for a beach walk and their little cousin spotted a horseshoe crab moult. Turns out, he’s very interested in “mawine biology”, wants to be a scuba diver and later on, waved a flashlight in our faces and invited us to hunt for “cwickets”.
There was a long and spectacular fireworks display afterwards, and we must have seen over two dozen similar home-grown spectacles along the beaches.
As one of Bonnie’s aunts said, it’s enough to reassure you that maybe the economy isn’t as bad as all that.

Took a break from the usual last night and visited the Long Pasture Wildlife Sanctuary in Cummaquid for an evening beach walk to look for horseshoe crabs. The sharp-eyed Audubon naturalist spotted three of them while the rest of us settled for green and hermit crab sightings.
We learned that the Sandy Neck lighthouse wasn’t in fact built inland, but that the spit has grown through the years; must be one of the few places on the Cape that is actually gaining rather than losing land.
For the first time ever, I saw the tide creep in over the north side flats, spreading slowly toward the shore like the runoff from watering your lawn. The south side beaches don’t have the same topography, nor do they have the spectacular sunset views.
It was a perfect night, and I was lucky enough to get back to Mashpee in time to catch most of the fireworks display at New Seabury. I’d been told this is a private event, but the roads weren’t blocked off. Several dozen of us were parked at a meadow with a decent view of the display and an easy in/easy out with no crowds to fight with.
The cicadas are pretty much finished, considerate to the end, having emerged after Memorial Day and ended before Fourth of July, they didn’t interfere with the tourist season.
Everything that marks the passage of time has a particular poignancy these days, the cicadas’ brief little lives being no exception. They were not the marauding monsters we were told to expect but, rather, a unique natural event. In a way, we were fortunate to get to see them.

Not all adoptive parents are self-centered boobs. Here’s a quote from a an extraordinary adoptive mother in Australia who really, really “gets it”:
1. Deal with your infertility….NOW
2. Do not think adopting a child is the answer to your grief due to your infertility.
3. Stop reading happy adoption blogs. Read blogs by adoptees so you can better understand what your son or daughter will be experiencing.
4. Ask yourself…can I really accept that this child has a real live true mother that will always be a part of her whether I ever have the opportunity to know or meet them during our life together.
5. Ask yourself….can I love my child for who SHE or HE is without trying to make them into a mini me.
6. Ask yourself…..do you understand that the adoption of this child is totally based on LOSS for the first mom and the child.
7. Ask yourself…do you have the empathy and the tools to help navigate your child through their loss’s and grief.
8. Read, read, read, and learn, learn, learn. Do you understand the inner life of an adopted child? Probably not unless you were adopted yourself. It doesn’t matter if you have a second cousin or friend of a friend of a friend who was adopted and they ‘turned out just fine’. What matters is that you are prepared to bless YOUR child by being knowledgeable and prepared for the road ahead. Don’t take adoption lightly. Don’t get caught up in thinking ‘ahhh…we’ve reached the solution to making our family and now we can just relax and enjoy.
The same blog which quoted the mother above has information on a film about women who were coerced into giving up their children called “Gone to a Good Home”.
It’s appalling that the abuse of birthmothers happened in places other than the United States. One wonders if this is because of the influence of the Catholic Church or possibly a common academic source of destructive social engineering theories.

I’m starting to understand why some people are pack rats.
I’ve been cleaning out, and sometimes it feels like suffocating because I’m not letting go of a mess, I’m letting go of my life.
The bad memories are easy to get rid of, but it’s wrenching to “lose” the good ones. Like, when Emme was young enough to enjoy “staying over”, I collected paint sets and other artistic things for her to play with.
She’s a young lady now, and prefers the company of her friend Vickie, so there’s no point in keeping the paints, the brushes, the glitter glue or the rest of it.
I want it back, I want the years back and those days back!
And guess what, it’s no damned consolation that I had those years. They say you regret what you haven’t done, but I regret the fact that I can’t do it again. They were good years, and I want them back.
Just imagine: some people are dumb enough to think that money can buy happiness. Well, it can’t. Money can’t buy any of the things that the heart craves the most.
If you ever find one golden summer day for sale, a day that includes my grandkids running through a sprinkler, buying Sponge Bob pops from the ice cream man, and watching fireworks, please let me know.

The cicadas seem to be dying out here and heading into other neighborhoods, where they still crash into the windshield. Yesterday, I had four of them land on me, including a couple on my neck while I was driving. It takes coordination to yank off a cicada and roll down your window while you’re hanging on to the wheel, listening all the while to the creature’s angry screes.
We just had a cloudburst, it’s still humid and disgusting outside. I slept without the a/c last night and of course, did not sleep well.
Brought several dozen cardboard boxes to the transfer station today, the basement is starting to look better already.
Peter was smart, he finished mowing before the rain, and the yard looks great, with the flower boxes, the day lilies and the rock garden blooming. Even though we don’t have much of a lawn, I think it’s one of the prettiest yards in the development.

The 1800Junk guys did a great job today, removed about 3/4 of the old “stuff” from the basement. They filled their truck, so I booked them for this time next week to finish up.
Another floor person dropped by to take measurements. Meanwhile, I made a quick run to Mahoney’s, to another floor store and to a stone place across town for marble chips to put around the mailbox, started cleaning the basement and planted a couple of evening primrose, the kind with tall stems and bright yellow flowers that look like giant buttercups.
I’m looking forward to a nice dinner with friends this evening to celebrate a birthday and maybe a movie or cards afterwards.

Far be it for me to commit the unseemly act of rejoicing at another’s misfortune, so I will resist the temptation to do so.
Besides, there are people who always manage to emerge, zombie-like, from catastrophe, so celebrating what is no doubt their merely temporary comeuppance would be an exercise in futility.
That being said, I was admittedly ecstatic when I read that the local technology council folded up its tent this week, that its director has been laid off and that its president was referred to as an “empty suit”.
In all charity, let me say instead that the humbling experience of an ignominious public failure should be a valuable character-building exercise for these two particular people, who have potential to be fine human beings if they would learn that their morning ablutions do not and never will include the excretion of ice cream.
Let’s pray that they emerge from this as better, kinder, less ruthless, less arrogant and more generous toward their fellow creatures. If nothing else, I suspect this would make them happier and give them greater peace and personal satisfaction, and bring joy to their families and loved ones.