I Heart P-town and other randomness
although that p-town abbrev. is probably for people who are in the know, like my next door neighbor. Provincetown sounds more respectful from us occasional tourists (I think I was ten last time I went there).
Mostly I love the beaches and the bay and the gardens because they're nearly free. I'll love the restaurants and shops after we win the lottery.
Oh, and the people watching. You have to love the clothes and the people in the them or you're just dead. Muscular and not so muscular guys in leather bikinis--eh, not always lovely. But how could anyone not adore seeing a 6'5" transvestite in a yellow and green polka dot dress with matching yellow shoes and purse, a gorgeous wig and a huge smile puttering along on a sunny yellow moped? The sight is contagiously happy.
I read an article about the good old days, when people other than the superrich could afford to live there, when it had real theater and real art. I'm glad I hadn't known Provincetown before because I'd probably be ranting about how Wonderful It Once Was instead of how great it is now.
We walked on the breakwater a few times and when I close my eyes, I hear the constant running toilet of the tide gurgling through the wall and I'm jumping from rock to rock. Or else I'm swaying in the waves--that's from swimming in the ocean. Sure signs of a successful vacation, right?
Too bad while I was off getting sunburned I missed my fifteen minutes of fame. Someone at dailykos picked up the whole Jan Butler thing and the visitor counter went crazy wild while I was away. (thanks, Kate Davies, for pointing it out.)
Speaking of Jan Butler, she wrote a note to me that was respectful and friendly. She didn't know she was getting huge numbers of notes at her blog.
Huh. So much for interpreting her silence as putting her fingers in her ears and ignoring the opposition while shouting out her opinion. I think, maybe.
I'm not going to change her mind, and she's not going to change mine. (I wrote "I'm not going to open her mind, and she's not going to close mine" but hoo-boy, righteousness gets old fast)
As long as RWA doesn't pick up the whole defining romance nonsense again, I'm done. Adios, high traffic.
I'll put up pictures of Our Vacation soon. They should be even better than the blurry dog and flower pictures for decreasing numbers. Too bad blogger won't let me put up the coolio picture of the breakwater--a hint maybe.
Mostly I love the beaches and the bay and the gardens because they're nearly free. I'll love the restaurants and shops after we win the lottery.
Oh, and the people watching. You have to love the clothes and the people in the them or you're just dead. Muscular and not so muscular guys in leather bikinis--eh, not always lovely. But how could anyone not adore seeing a 6'5" transvestite in a yellow and green polka dot dress with matching yellow shoes and purse, a gorgeous wig and a huge smile puttering along on a sunny yellow moped? The sight is contagiously happy.
I read an article about the good old days, when people other than the superrich could afford to live there, when it had real theater and real art. I'm glad I hadn't known Provincetown before because I'd probably be ranting about how Wonderful It Once Was instead of how great it is now.
We walked on the breakwater a few times and when I close my eyes, I hear the constant running toilet of the tide gurgling through the wall and I'm jumping from rock to rock. Or else I'm swaying in the waves--that's from swimming in the ocean. Sure signs of a successful vacation, right?
Too bad while I was off getting sunburned I missed my fifteen minutes of fame. Someone at dailykos picked up the whole Jan Butler thing and the visitor counter went crazy wild while I was away. (thanks, Kate Davies, for pointing it out.)
Speaking of Jan Butler, she wrote a note to me that was respectful and friendly. She didn't know she was getting huge numbers of notes at her blog.
Huh. So much for interpreting her silence as putting her fingers in her ears and ignoring the opposition while shouting out her opinion. I think, maybe.
I'm not going to change her mind, and she's not going to change mine. (I wrote "I'm not going to open her mind, and she's not going to close mine" but hoo-boy, righteousness gets old fast)
As long as RWA doesn't pick up the whole defining romance nonsense again, I'm done. Adios, high traffic.
I'll put up pictures of Our Vacation soon. They should be even better than the blurry dog and flower pictures for decreasing numbers. Too bad blogger won't let me put up the coolio picture of the breakwater--a hint maybe.
I hear the constant running toilet of the tide
ReplyDeleteAnd they call it P-town? *tittering like a 13-year-old*
he he he heheeheh.
ReplyDeletePeetown.
the breakwater (hehehehehe make water?) really does sound like our downstairs bathroom before we replaced the bushwa-whatsit in the tank. A familiar constant glugging.