A delightful feeling of total body exhaustion, even though you didn’t do anything that you thought was that strenuous.

1 pregnancy at 26 weeks
2.5 hours of beach time
1 toddler, 19 months
1 parent.

Up and down in the sand for 2 hours. Stir in moderate chasing of toddler who wants to eat sand and pebbles but mostly wants to run and fall down and roll in the sand. This recipe is fun preparation for the whole family.

Bake overnight with light cover, hydrating as necessary.

In morning, enjoy stiff, aching hips and sore back. Delicious!

I’m not so clever as to string this into a narrative, so here: a list of cool stuff from today:

1. Freebird and I went to the beach while Hubby assembled all manner of furniture with his trusty allen wrench. Table? Done! Adirondack chairs with ottomans, from a cheap sale link provided by Rbelle? Done! Morag and Freebird baking in the sun? Done!

2. Random bit of language trivia: In Spanish, you say hello by saying, “¡Hola!” Anyone who watches even five minutes of Dora or Diego knows that, or Sesame Street, or pretty much any random slightly bilingual tv show. BUT! Did you know that in Spanish, waves are called “holas” because they are “waving” at the shore, saying “Hello?” It’s true. Waves = holas.

3. Freebird was scared of the waves - every time one crashed he’d say, “No! No! No!” I had him sit on my lap and explained that the waves were saying “Hi!” and waving at him. “Here comes one now… Hi! Hello!” Once he figured out that the waves were going to keep saying hi to him, he started waving back and yelling, “HELLOOOOO!”

4. Freebird LOVES the sand, and finds having his feet buried to be among the most hilarious things ever. When he outgrows that, it’s going to suck. Because I love playing in the sand.

5. Driving home after our day at the beach, we drive into a huge thunderstorm that I could see coming from about 20 miles away - lightning, big sheets of rain, and thunder. It got so dark when we crossed under the storm that I had to take my sunglasses off. And on the road with me? Two old dudes in classic cars with their convertible tops down and no apparent inclination to pull over and put the tops up. They might not have even had a top with them to put up, because sure enough, they were driving in their ballcaps, soaking wet through the downpour. I don’t know what was worse - those poor men getting soaked or the leather interiors of their classic cars getting completely drenched.

6. Father’s Day is tomorrow and I am astonished to say that Hubby’s cards are ready and his present is wrapped. But unfortunately for him, we have exactly three kinds of wrapping paper: Hanukkah, Christmas-neutral (no Jesus, no Christmas trees, but clearly red and green ergo Xmas), and wedding. Since I need my Hanukkah and Christmas paper and NEVER want to buy it when it’s $90000 dollars a roll at Target during the holiday season, I decided Hubby’s father’s day gift would be wrapped in wedding paper. It’s all white with lace and rings and roses and crap. I might have to take a big Sharpie and draw penises all over it. Or fishhooks or clickers or whatever says, “Father’s Day.”

7. I have post-beach-sun fatigue, which is almost like being full of good stew and wine and feeling content enough to drift off. Only instead of stew and wine, I’m slightly salty from the sun and the wind and a little tanned as well. My hair, however, we should not speak of at this time. 

Only two, but fun for me (and you):

lolrus bukkit: Poor lolrus. If I were without mah bukkit for this long, I’d be sad. That is, if I were a lolrus who had a bukkit.

cabernet sauce: I have never made a cabernet sauce, but I have had things with cabernet sauce on them. I find it awesome, but then, generally anything rich with a lot of flavor is improved by the addition of some wine, white or red. 

Those of you in the legal profession, enjoy this bit of wonderment. Heck, anyone even folks without a JD can enjoy this bit of info. From today’s Star Ledger, the paper that puts the Sopranos and American Goddam Idol front page above the fold:

Call it the Jersey defense.

Lesly Devereaux, the latest public official hauled into court on corruption charges, conceded yesterday that prosecutors have her nailed on the key facts of the case.

Yes, she threw government work to her ailing mother and her desperate sister. Yes, her secretary devoted the great bulk of her time to Devereaux’s private law practice while on the public payroll. And yes, Devereaux tried to hide all this by drafting documents she now concedes were phony.

But she is pleading not guilty.

Her pitch to the jury yesterday boiled down to this: In the slimy pit of New Jersey politics, everybody does this kind of stuff.

“Jim McGreevey put his paramour in charge of homeland security with a six-figure salary,” said defense attorney Jack Furlong. “I don’t recall Mr. McGreevey facing indictment for that.

“Why are we singling out Lesly Devereaux? Is she the only one who threw a bone to a member of her family in New Jersey? I don’t think so.”

Ah yes. Jersey. We have the best tomatoes, the best corn, the best blueberries, among the best beaches (including a federally-funded and -protected nude beach!), and… the best corrupt state government in the land. And that’s the new defense: everyone else is corrupt, so why not me?

It’s just breathtaking. The article goes on to describe this woman as something between a tyrant and complete egomaniacal nutjob who also has been indicted on charges of food stamp fraud.

But my favorite part is the following: “New Jersey politics is a slimy business. Even watching it from a distance, you sometimes feel the need to take a hot shower afterward and hug your children for reassurance.”

So true, dude. So true.

10. You hold on to the bar by raising your arm up in the air. Some people should not do this, most particularly when they are 6’ and I am 5’3” and while they should have showered, they have apparently skipped that this morning and I’m about to pass out from the wave o’ stench.

9. Hot platform. Remove sweater. ICE COLD TRAIN CAR OMG. Freeze. Put on sweater. Step off train car. HOT like SAUNA with extra train smell! Begin to feel lightheaded and consider buying climate control suit to move around in.

8. Everyone smells. Including you.

7. The real New Yorkers somehow figured out how to move about through the hot and the cold and the hot and the cold without getting wrinkled or wilted, and they will not share that secret. But they always look good. It’s not fair.

6. Someone on every train car will be intoxicated, loud, and upset about something. Usually aliens. Seems aliens start listening to your thoughts a LOT more in the summer.

5. If there are musicians singing on the train, a tourist will get up and dance and sing with them. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it’s a little mortifying to watch. Especially if the tourist is a man with pasty legs in shorts, dark dork socks and sandals. You’re never getting that image out of your head.

4. It still smells. Hold your nose or breathe through your sleeve.

3. You’d think it’d be cooler in the tunnels, but it’s not. However, when you surface back to the street, that 90+ degree humidity feels MUCH nicer than the subway platform.

2. Bag sitters? Pole huggers? Seat Straddlers? Somehow, more common in the summer. Especially the seat straddlers. I assume they sit like they’re riding horses because they need to air out the little parts. I still rage at them all in my head like a psycho, though.

1. OMG the SMELL.

Today: barely 70. Sunday? 90! Morag thinks? WTF!

Honestly, I am so sleep deprived going on 2 weeks now that all I can think of is 9 or 10 uninterrupted hours of sleep. And yet, I am home, I am in my jammies and… I get in my own way and don’t get to bed much before 1030. I read, I watch tv, I work on the laptop on stuff that could ostensibly wait until morning except that I’m having a jolly old time NOW so up I stay. I just get in my own way, literally and figuratively.

Meanwhile, the Bird improves. Last night there was 3am screaming and crying, but it seemed to be a ruse to get us to come into his room, because the minute Hubby walked in, it was Party Time Excellent! Eventually the man will snooze all night. Someday. When he’s 14 and sleeps until noon the next day.

Wow. Weather! And sleep! Tune in later when I write about something seriously interesting, like dandruff. 

I never need to do another gift guide. Amazon’s curiosity gift guide puts mine to shame.