MeSoFun Blog

We don't get out much here. Perhaps you've heard this line: As of April 1, I had filled my car up with gas five times. Since Thanksgiving. That's part of the reason you're reading this blog. I was fed up with my own lack of drive. Get it? Oh, that was terrible. Some sort of motorized contraption. For the fourth day in a row, it was sunny and spectacular today. I busted through a morning schedule that included writing 1,300 words, editing 700 more words, and working out. I wanted to do ... something. Anything, really, was better than sitting inside. There will be plenty of that to come next week, judging by the forecast. I threw Daisy into the car and we headed down to Old Orchard Beach, about 15 miles south of us. Despite its reputation as a fun tourist town, or perhaps because of it, I had never visited OOB. Technically, I broke the law today. But whatever. There were maybe 15 people on a mile-long stretch of beach, including a guy with a thong on, laying on his chest...

Have something you don't want the world to know? Don't tell me. My chosen profession is a good one. I don't keep secrets. I tell them. This is how I justify my latest failure. Or celebrate openly an upcoming vacation! First off, let me tell you how much I appreciate your vacation photos. Fabulous. Especially when we get 19 inches of snow in one day and I haven't left the house in 48 hours. I will be at the floating bar (not pictured). So. Here's where we're going in May! In the midst of a conversation with Amy – about tacos and Styx's 1983 Kilroy Was Here — I blurted out a potential destination for our super-secret, hush-hush May vacation. I'm not sure if the picture at right is a photo or a painting. But that's where we're going. Rooms have swim-out canals, so you can enter the pool without showing off your non-summer-ready body. As if that would ever be the case . This tradition goes back a long way. Just ask my Mom. She's coming to Portla...

My wife and I are annoying. This is a welcome admission to those that know us well. We raise our hands as though we are on a roller coaster every time we drive over train tracks in our car. And we often say "wheeeeee" in the process. It gets worse. For about a year, before we moved to Maine, we had a theme song. We would often burst into song while driving in the car. There was pretty much only one song: "Augustana's Boston ( slow version, fer the kids )." OK, we weren't moving to Boston, but we were moving somewhere. It turns out, we moved 100 miles up the road from Boston. Until yesterday, we might as well have moved to Portland, Oregon, for how often we visited Boston. Outside of a few visits to the Boston airport and a Cape Cod run in May, neither the wife nor I had stepped foot in Boston. That run of shame came to an end this week as The Wife had spring break time on her hands. We drove down, hopped a subway north of the city and 15 minutes later were s...