Mystic Seaport picture dump

Here are some snaps of where Sam is spending his summer. In no particular order.

Some water front action. The Museum covers about a mile of the Mystic River and attempts to recreate the feel of an early nineteenth century New England coastal town. These buildings are all open exhibits containing things like period homes, banks, blacksmith shops, printers, etc.

This is not a historic vessel. It's just a beautiful private cruising yacht that was in port recently for a wooden boat show.

The Joseph Conrad. This is one of Mystic's period vessels. It is a later nineteenth century vessel built to train boys for the Danish merchant marine. It is now used to house summer sailing camps for the childrens.

The L. A. Dunton. This is a 1920s fishing schooner. A crew of about 18 men would live in this, along with a cargo full of dried/iced cod. Smelly.

The Dunton's jib boom and waterfront view.

This is 1/4 of a late 18th-early 19th century rope walk. It would actually have been over 1000ft long. The Plymouth cordage company was the most prestigious rope manufacturer in the world for over a century. That probably doesn't sound that cool, but just try being in the middle of the north Atlantic with bad rope.

This is a full scale replica of the Amistad - the Spanish slaving schooner featured in Steven Speilberg's film of the same name.

Genevieve, mon cheri

Well, she's finally here, my little niece.

Spent last night in the hospital with my sis & Genevieve. It was kinda like a lock-in. Snacks, giggling, few half-hours of stolen sleep here and there. But with added diaper changing & some baby vom. Good times!

I love her, though. She is so darling. Looking forward to seeing her grow. Dinah & Alex are such good parents.

I enjoy wrapping her up tight like a burrito, slapping her hat on and snuggling with her. Really does look like a little glowworm. I gave her a tour of her house tonight. She especially liked the piano and the Picasso. And her cloud crib.

Maybe more pics to come, but for now, see her here and here.

S.O.S

Sam is away on a maritime history fellowship at the Mystic Seaport Museum of America and the sea in Connecticut for six weeks. The weather is currently inclement.

This is his back yard.

This sad building is the garage.

The Smell of Summer

I walked up the the bar at the Ginger Man to settle up and what did I see down and to my left but a pack of Splash's.

I stared, my mind racing through the memories back to that first clove on Cammy's driveway approximately one decade ago. Although back then it was Bali Hai's, before the Sunshine Store consolidated to all Splash. My first cigarette, which I tried to breath through like a snorkel on the first drag. Before I learned how to do it in ultra cool style (just once in a while, you know, with my pals).

"Mind if I ask where you got those cloves?" I ask one of the row of nondescript early 20's jock boys, trying not to appear flirtatious in any way.

"Um, cigar shop?" One answers quizzically.

"Oh, right I just moved here and...you know..." I trailed off, suddenly remembering that I was no longer in a city or state where I had to rely on the always sketchy Sunshine Store for supply.

"You want one?" the owner of the pack asked, proferring.

"YEAH!" I said way too enthusiastically, sounding and feeling suddenly 18 again.

I tasted the sweet paper before lighting the thin cylinder and smiled as I remembered all the edgy, artistic, romantic feelings that I used to associate with the activity. And the late nights walking around Brookhaven with Cammy talking about boys, religion, fashion, Dave Matthews.

I drove home with the window down, imagining it was my old 320i and savoring the warm summer air gently wafting the smell of so many summers ago back into my present.

Making the usual contribution to the household:

What a contented brace of conies.
Full-length "butcher shop window" pose.

Mercedes loves this cool & safe shelf with direct access to behind the sofa should any loud noises occur. Note the barely raised ear, ever so slightly acknowledging my presence near her lair.

"Sam, is this your half-eaten apple?"

It wasn't Sam's half-eaten apple.

The scene of the crime. (Note previously tidy table now in disarray.)

The victim.

The perpetrator.

The thief red-pawed.

Trying to get at my oatmeal on a separate occasion. Because it had chopped apple in it.

What a bad bunny.

Maybe he's a shinigami. Did you know Shinigamis only eat apples?

Toi, toi, toi!

Well, Sam's operatic debut has come and gone. But, not without some photographic evidence.

For those of you who hadn't already heard, Sam partook in this year's Fort Worth opera festival as a supernumerary (that means extra) in Bizet's Carmen. I like to think of his role as "matador #4". He was onstage for approximately 5 minutes in a very elaborate costume complete with hot pink tights (knee socks really, but the trousers he wore with them were knee length). He did a great job with the machismo. And he learned how to put on makeup, among other things. I gave his performance an A+. He really carried the show.

Behold, matador #4.

Sam with matadors 1, 2 & 3.

Backstage good-times.

Last night Sam went to see Cinderella, one of the other operas running during the festival. I was unable to go, and we had this conversation earlier in the day:

Sam: Maybe I'll call Michael and see if he wants to experience the opera. You know, like on a man-date.

Me: What would your gay theater pals think of that?

Sam: I don't think anyone could possibly mistake me or Michael for being gay.

Me: True.

Sam: They would just say, "Oh look, its 2 WASPS on a man-date to the opera. Now I have seen everything."