Nits End.

Another word about Block Island. Bring supplies. I forgot to bring a hair tie and could not bring myself to pay $5.49 for a little package of them when I knew I had some at home. Even if I didn't have them at home I could get the same item in Providence for under $2. It was the principle. I spent the day looking more and more like Slash from Guns 'N Roses.

Fabio sweetly asked our waitress if she had an extra hair tie and she gave me one. I took it and I thanked her but I couldn't use it. In 1988- when I was living in Athens, Georgia I got head lice six times in a row. There was an epidemic in the school system. OMG. Just the thought of this makes me itch. I was a live-in nanny and I babysat for 3 other families. All of the kids had it. I kept getting re-infested. I had hair that hung a little above my waist. It was long, thick and really curly. The perfect breeding ground. Those little critters found a nice nest in me. I offered warmth, security and endless expansion. That is,until I cut it all off.

By the end, I had so many dead white nits in my hair it had really begun to affect my personality. I was so unhappy. I just could not believe the mess I was in. Even though they were finally all dead, I could not get them out of my hair. They clung to me. I had SIX batches in there. It was hell. The loads of laundry, the endless treatments, it wasn't cheap.

I actually had to move out of my house.I had only lived there for a couple of months. I had just moved out on my own. I was so excited about it. I had gone from my parents house to a dorm to being a live in nanny. This was my first foray into independence. I lived in a really big house, all alone. My roommate had just moved out.I wonder why. There was wall to wall carpeting and I think my dog might have had fleas too. I felt really bad about leaving such a legacy. The whole place was spotless, but I think that I left some live wires. I felt even worse when I found out that my house had become a half way house. Those poor people, trying to screw their heads on straight without the added pressure of head lice.



I remember sitting on a bench in downtown Athens. I was sitting between an ice cream store and a record store. I had put my riddled hair in braids. I was reading Frankenstein for English Lit. That is kind of ironically funny now that I think about it. My friend Bill Chappell came over and sat down. He said, "Oh man Lucy, you have really got to do something about your situation." It was bad. I was in a bad situation.

I asked Bill to "go ahead and see" (that's how they talk in the South.) if Mr. Brown (the record store owner) had a pair of scissors that he could borrow. Bill came back out carrying the shears. I told him to cut the braids off and then some. It was traumatic, I loved my hair.

I will never forget the two little boys sitting in the window of Gorin's Ice Cream. They stared in astonishment as Bill clipped off my braids, one at a time. It was awful.

When Fabio scored me that hair tie from a stranger it brought back a flood of horrible memories. One interesting memory of that trying time stands out. I was a Sophomore at UGA. I had been at the Student Center just hours before my first bout with head lice. I had to get a student id made.

My sister Moy had given me this absolutely beautiful hand painted barrette. I loved it. It was gorgeous. I always received compliments when I wore it. Right before my picture was taken I took the barrette out and fluffed up my hair. I somehow forgot the barrette. I realized that it was missing after I had already walked 20 minutes across campus. I turned around immediately. When I went back it was gone. I asked the lady who took my picture if she had seen it. She said no. I didn't believe her. I bet my little friends were breeding in her top desk drawer. Serves her right.

I am paranoid about head lice. When we go to the movies or travel by plane or train I always wear my hair in a tight bun high atop my head. We all have our quirks, and they all have to do with our histories. People can be weird for good reasons.

Journey to Block Island

We went to Block Island, Rhode Island two days ago. We have lived in Providence since April of 2002. From 1967 until 1986 I lived in Fall River, Massachusetts. How is it that I have never been to Block Island? Why wasn't I one of those high school kids who would spend their Summers working at The National Hotel? They got room and board and a salary plus tips! What was I thinking? There were plenty of jobs. I always saw them advertised at the beginning of Summer in the Providence Journal.















I saw them advertised THIS Summer. Can you imagine? If you are single with no dependants- what an idyllic way to spend a Summer. Housekeeping at The National Hotel. I love making beds. I am sure the linen is crisp. It is a fancy hotel.

Block Island is now my favorite place on earth. I love Block Island. I love saying "Block Island". I loved the whole day. We missed the 10:30 ferry by five minutes because Fabio mistakenly headed toward Fort Adams in Newport where the ferry leaves once a day instead of to Point Judith where the ferry leaves every hour and a half.

I realized his error as soon as he took the wrong exit, by then we were on the Newport Bridge. He had to turn around and we were just too late. They run a tight ship. I have never gotten to use that cliche so accurately in my life. Fabio is never late for anything. I mean never. He has "drop dead departure times" that are strickly adhered to. This guy is never late. He was so bugged.

Hanging out in Point Judith for an hour and 25 minutes was great except for having to endure Fabio's repeated apologies.
























It was fine. We got the boys ice cream.

















There was a buzz in the air. I was really really excited. I had been wanting to go to Block Island for my entire life. It is only $17.50 RT and a short 55 minute ferry ride from Point Judith!I have no idea what I had been waiting for. It is hardly inaccessible. It is the nicest place I have ever been to.
















When we stepped off the ferry we were on new land. We had no idea what to expect. We took a right and walked down the street. We walked past charming houses and little shops. The boys,of course, were famished, as if they had spent days on The Mayflower. We stopped for lunch and then headed to the beach.























We sat and we swam and we buried the boys in the sand.























The weather was perfect. I could have sat there all day.


































After a day at the beach we packed up and headed back to the center of town. We had a couple of hours before the last ferry left so we decided to explore a little. We walked up this cute little street with old homes and seaviews. We walked past the fabulous Hotel Manisses 1661 Inn. It is enormous and grand. People were sitting on the big old porch reading in rockers. Red wine was being served.


As we walked further up the street we came upon a curious farm.


















Enzo spotted a yak. Owen read the handpainted sign aloud, "Please don't feed the camel."
























At that moment a young family came strolling down the path . They told us to go up even further and we would see a Zedonk. A Zedonk is (you may have guessed) a cross between a zebra and a donkey.







That is a llama beside him.





Did I mention the emu?

















This is a very old fainting goat, apparently.



















Have you any idea what this is? Enzo is pretty sure that it is a Scottish cow.

















Block Island is a magical place. I cannot believe that I had never been there. I almost feel duty bound to pack up the family and just go ahead and move there to make up for lost time.

The day kept getting better and better, apart from the fact that it was going to end.


















We boarded the 7:30 pm ferry back to Point Judith. On the ferry we saw the most beautiful sky. We had the smell of salt water on our skin and some color in our cheeks. All of us were dressed perfectly for the dip in temperature and the sky was all that we could see.





















I don't think I have ever had a better day in my life. It was effortless enjoyment. I would like to do it again and again and again. It is a hidden gem. The pace of Block Island is perfect. It is so uncrowded and relaxed.

I am going on and on because I feel I must! I cannot say enough about Block Island. The charm is intoxicating. It really was one thing after another. When we came home I googled Block Island. We haven't even scratched the surface. I am going back for more.

A Little Hang Up of Mine.

This picture was taken in 1996. It was Christmas morning. I was talking to my parents. I make very few phone calls. Since this picture was taken I have probably made less than 100 phone calls. That is not a lot when you do the math.

I find the phone annoying. I am extremely bothered by it. When it rings, I get a physical reaction. My stomach sinks. I feel it. Every single time. I get nervous. I don't like it.

I will be happily reading, or writing or cooking or you know, anything-making my bed. Out of nowhere I will hear a loud ringing in my ear. It assaults me. Next I am supposed to pick up the offending object and merrily say, "Hello!"

Back in the day that may have been novel but we have email and facebook and text messaging now. I am not anti-social at all, I can be down right animated and engaging face to face, but get me on a phone? I am hopeless. I need facial reactions. Dead silence is not nearly as intimidating when you can see the person. You have a million common distractions to restore the flow. You can get up, use hand gestures, even pull props out of your bag.

When there is a lull in conversation when you are on the phone you are forced to fill it with some inane thought that has leapt into your mind at that very moment. My thoughts tend to "I am so tired." Tired of talking on the phone.

When I lived in Athens, Georgia I didn't have a phone. I didn't even realize it. I just went over to people's houses unannounced or biked downtown. I never made plans and I always had fun. I never really had a phone until I moved in with Fabio. (I had one growing up too, of course).

On my 34th birthday, I decided to answer the phone. I thought it might be a family member calling to wish me well. We didn't have caller id (my favorite thing ever)yet. It was the sister of a friend of a friends. I am not kidding. I had met her a few weeks earlier at a party and somehow birthdays were brought up. I said that mine was in a few weeks. She asked me the date.

She is a perfectly lovely gal but please. That weird phone call was exhausting and unnecessary. That is when I really started hating the phone. I spoke to her-a woman I barely knew- for 20 minutes about NOTHING and it was my birthday!!

Ugh! There it goes. As I type, that blasted thing is ringing. Fabio is out with the boys. It is up to me. My stomach hurts. Oh good. It is Providence City. I don't have to answer it. It is the School Department calling to tell parents about a Summer program for the kids.
Can't they send an email?

That is what I like to do. I always return phone calls with emails. I write long ones too. I try to think them through. Email allows you to refer back to your notes. No one is sitting by you while you yak on the phone taking minutes of all the highlights and key points.

Email is so much more relaxing. You can get the kids to bed, make a nice cup of tea, take a deep breath and think. You can be assured that whoever it is that you are trying to convey a message to is reading your words with their full attention, at their convenience. At least that is the case for me.

If I am caught off guard by the telephone, and forced to think on my feet immediately I just don't make any sense. I love sitting down at the end of a long day and reading a good letter as opposed to trying to banter cheerfully while boiling pasta for dinner.

The telephone is distracting and intrusive. It always rings and demands your attention when it is least convenient for you. Gawd, and then you have to be NICE.
I would like to be placed on the Do Not Call List. If it is an emergency-fine.I am not unreasonable.