Lame-o

Yes, I am. Guilty as charged.

Amity called "Bullshit" on my previous post. And she's right. It was a cop-out.

So why don't I blog what's on my mind. Hmm. I have CTU grading to do. I'm not in the mood. I just got a drunk dial from Chicago. I didn't answer the phone. I'm not there anymore.

I'm about ready to go to bed. I spent the afternoon touring Newport with several of my family members. One of my aunts won the tour as part of a pledge drive for PBS. I adore that she donates to PBS. There were 12 of us in the van. I was related to 9 of them. I can't remember the last time I was in a vehicle with 9 people to whom I'm related by blood. I don't know if I ever have been before, as a matter of fact.

The tour was good, but the driver took too many liberties with the facts, and he SHOUTED instead of using the damned microphone. Seriously. And I was sitting right in front of him when he'd turn around to shout. Lucky for me I was sitting next to the window, so I could rest my elbow on the window, rest my head against my fist, and clandestinely stick my thumb in my ear to prevent the migraine I knew I'd get otherwise.

The upshot though is that I fell in LOOOOOVE with Newport. It's another one of those things I take for granted after having grown up here. The town was founded in 1639, barely 2 decades after the Puritans landed at Plymouth in 1620. The initial mission of the town, which promoted religious tolerance and freedom, lead to a colonial lifestyle in which everyone worked together for their mutual survival. On Farewell Street, with cemeteries on either side, Africans are buried across from Orthodox Jews (who have fences around their plots in observance of their religious custom of separate burial grounds from those of other faiths). Protestants of every denomination are there as well, going back to the earliest days.

So from entire neighborhoods of ACTUAL colonial homes (pre-Revolutionary and authentic) to Guilded Age "summer cottage" mansions, we toured the gamut. My grandfather pointed out the old YMCA building on Washington Square where he and my grandmother met nearly 60 years ago. It was a charming day.

After we got home I had the parents and the grandparents over for dinner. Cleaned up, potted some plants. Procrastinated.

I think that's probably part of the lame-o post. I hate myself for getting behind on grading, but I know why I do it and that almost makes it worse. The long and the short of it is burnout. I am burned out. But I have to keep going, because I need this right now.

I'll find it in me. I always do.