Everything I Like Causes Cancer

Oh, don't get all excited. I'm not really going to The Hamptons and neither are you. As if. We’re just middle-middle class working stiffs who live on the south side of [insert your town name here]. Growing up lower-middle class taught me to appreciate the things that I have. It also taught me that I had to go to college so that I could have better things to appreciate.

My friend Amy* and I were emailing yesterday about how her Granny, who used to summer in Peabody, Massachusetts, pronounced the name of the town like "pee-be-DEE" and how funny it is when it's said that way. You should say it out loud right now. Who cares if your co-workers can hear you? Get them in on this, too. You can bill it to “Admin.” Make sure you get the emphasis on the end syllable. That’s what the all caps means, dummies.

Anyway, this got me to thinking about just how sublime it would be to be a person who summered somewhere. To live a life of wealth so abundant that every year you could afford to retire to your summer home, the only place on Earth where every day is mild and sunny. I dream of days spent lounging on the beach, a big straw hat shading my book . . . tennis on the lawn . . . cocktails at 4 . . . dinner at 8, casual or formal depending on my mood and guests.

Imagine it. If I were this fabulously wealthy I could bring you all out to the place for a weekend . . . Whiskeymarie would make pitcher after pitcher of delicious adult beverages . . . McGone would draw sketches to memorialize how beautiful and fabulous we were . . . Falwless and I would drink all the drinkies, smoke all the smokies, and rescue all the kitties . . . Kimchi Amy and Jeff would make cakes celebrating the fact that we were summering . . . Pistols At Dawn would deter other vacationers in the area from staying too long. . . Renaissance Woman would make a dock for the sailboat (note to self: consider bringing her handy uncle, also) . . . The Lady Who Doesn’t Lunch would make lunch . . . (wait, that doesn’t seem right, note to self: hire mid-day staff) . . . and Dr. Zibbs, well I guess Zibbsy would just keep us in stitches.

Everyone, all of you, everyone who comes here with your special talents and ways of entertaining . . . you'd all be there. It would be just as I dreamt it . . . and you were there, and you were there, and you were there, too!

In the meantime, I’ll be happy with the 10x6x3 blow-up pool I put up in the backyard. I figure there’s a street in town called Hampton Avenue so I’m well within my rights to refer to it as The Hamptons.

Are you available to join me in The Hamptons this weekend, lovey?

* Amy will henceforth be referred to as Peabody and I expect you to read/say it like pee-be-DEE. Remember, emphasis on the end. Say it out loud and punch your arms to the syllables if it helps you get the accent right.