"It was tragic and delicious."

This week has been a bit insane for me. Why? Well, let's recap.

Monday night, after I got my last paycheck from the Discovery store, I went down to Cape Cod with my folks, saw Order of the Phoenix, and spent the night, because on Tuesday Ryter was coming down to join me, Mummy, Daddy, my great-aunt (the one who took me to the Revels), her significant other to whom she is not married, my grandfather, Shrewd, and Shrewd' s college friend Spaz, who I can actually call Spaz on here despite that ALSO being how I think of her in real life (she and my sister have the same name, Spaz is her nickname, etc) on account of it not being a REAL name. We were having our big annual lobstah feed.

It could have been worse. My great aunt didn't interrogate Ryter nearly as bad as I had expected, and he made a good impression on my family for showing up, staying all the way until dessert, generally being personable and, in the case of my father, turning down that second glass of champagne. My aunt has voiced her approval. Plus we got to build a sandcastle-- Ryter is quite the accomplished sand-castle constructionist. And we got to scare the crap out of the teenage boy who didn't realize the architect was on the beach and thought it would be funny to destroy the thing.

Boy: YARGH! [kick, kick, jump, swipe]
Ryter: [glowers]
Me: That's not very nice.
Boy: Oh, it's my castle, I made it.
Me: No, you didn't.
Boy: Yes I did!
Me: Uhm, no, he did. [points to Ryter]
Boy: [dawning horror and anticipation of a smack down, followed by frantic attempts to "fix it"]

It was pretty hilarious. Almost made up for the kid's assholery.

I think Ryter was expecting the park to be, like, overun with unwashed toddlers and hillbillies, so he was pleasantly surprised to find that it's not the sort of place trailer trash affords-- most people who go there are like my family, with enough money for a summer place but not enough for a full-sized cottage they can only visit for a few weeks and weekends. The problem was, what with it being a three and a half hour drive down from Durham, and his hamstrings acting up, it wasn't really a fun day for him-- I mean, he flatly stated that the only reason he was going was because it was important to me that he go.

I wish there was a way to make the experiences that are fun for me be fun for him, too. I like everything, anything he wants to do is usually fun for me, but the reverse is not so, and he's usually dealing with pain at the same time which makes things even more difficult. Basically thus far the only things I've suggested that he's been able to get enthusiastic about are making pizzas with weird toppings and going to the orchards in my hometown and stargazing (there's no ambient light, so the night sky is amazing on clear nights-- so amazing that last time we went we saw several shooting stars, clear as a bell). Most of my ideas he either tries and winds up disliking (the planetarium in Concord, for example), or KNOWS he won't like (hiking, or the Chatham band concert). Vivacia wants to go to Old Home Days in our town, and see the fireworks, and she suggested I invite him, but I don't think I'll have much success. Unfortunately, if Ryter doesn't come along it looks right now like it will wind up being Vivacia, her boyfriend Closer, me, and my former boyfriend Mack, and that would be awwwwwwkward. Well, for me anyway. And yet I can't picture Ryter wanting to go to an Old Home Days thing, even if we do spend a lot of the time hanging out on the swings at the elementary school and chatting.

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Then Wednesday I spent the WHOLE DAY cleaning my house. I even washed the kitchen window, the hardest one to clean because it basically involves squatting in the sink and leaning backwards out the window with a bottle of glass cleaner and a paper towel and no means of support. The house is basically clean. If Shrewd doesn't mess it up too much, it will be clean for my folks to come home to, which is what I was hoping for-- last weekend Mummy complained bitterly about coming home to a filthy house, and all I could think was, You didn't say you were coming home today!

I should have gone to the gym. But I didn't. I've been really bad about that lately.

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Then yesterday I drove back to the Cape on my own, so that I would have a car. I've never driven that route before. It's two and a half hours and it's very boring when you haven't got anyone to talk to, and you can't fall asleep. Plus it goes through Boston and is kind of a stressful drive in parts. I kept myself alert and focused by playing the street sign alphabet game in my head. Remember that game? You have to find all the letters of the alphabet in order by reading street signs... yeah. Then I got to Z and started again with license plates, that was MUCH harder.

I was planning on going to the Chatham band concert tonight, but it rained so that wouldn't have been fun. Instead I crocheted and then Mummy and I visited with my great-aunt, I shared some family gossip Bisobrina had told me that I probably shouldn't have, then we went to a glass museum for a while before Daddy joined us and we all went to the Lobster Hut for dinner. Then I drove back here.

I'm a bit bummed. I wanted to see the band concert. But I can go when The Brother is back, he'll want to go too. He's still in California with his drum corps, but if they win the next competition, they'll win the big World Championship thing for their division. My mom is REALLY EXCITED. He comes back Sunday.

Meanwhile, I will continue to clean the house. Next task-- windows. Daddy promised me $200 if I do all of them except the ones holding air conditioners.

But Yesterday Was Better

Happy Fourth, all.

Today was the day when I finally thrust Ryter headfirst into meeting the fambly. Extended family, that is, though he spent more time than ever before with my dad and he very very briefly met the Brother.

Every Fourth of July, my uncle, who was born on the first, has a big birthday/Independence Day party. It's like ideal for him because he's really into American history and especially the Revolutionary War. The birthday fact might have lead to the liking history fact, but who knows. Anyway, my uncle is an avid beachcomber/yard sale aficionado/junk collector and his house reflects that, much to the chagrin of my aunt (father's sister). But they have this big party and everyone comes, and we go every year and see the same people we see at the New Year's brunch. This year, my aunt said I could invite my boyfriend, more as a "Let's see who [Basiorana] is dating!" than a "Maybe she'd like to invite him!"

But the thing is, it worked out really well, because Ryter can't stay at a social function, especially with people he needs to censor himself around, for very long, and to be perfectly honest, as much as I like to see people, I really prefer to stay like three hours, max. When I'm there I say hi to people and talk to relatives if they talk to me, but I can only answer "So, how's school?" fifteen times before my head explodes. So it meant that we brought Shrewd down, we could leave her there to return with the 'rents and head back ourselves. And Ryter did very well, especially since it was like 25 people and I know maybe ten names. He talked with my aunt about schools (my aunt's a high school guidance counselor) and to my uncle about historical fiction and the other stuff he's writing, and to my mom about the Shadowrun game we're playing (yes, I'm playing a role-playing game with dice and everything, don't laugh, it's pretty cool) and role-playing, Dungeons and Dragons-type games in general. Then it got later, we got ready to leave, and there was an incident with a cookie that resulted in an emergency run down to the nearest Brooks (luckily, that wasn't very far) for some Benadryl. Nuts.

But he was okay, he just kind of felt crappy and his face got a little puffy. The swelling was down by the time we got back here. He promises he'll recover. I just feel really, really bad, mostly about the fact that it took so long for me to get out of there and head down to the Brooks with him-- but I really needed to say good-bye, at least to my grandfather, aunt and uncle, and my folks, who would have wondered where the heck I was.

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I had to abandon him here, though, to go pick up my brother, who just got back from a week-long tour with his drum corps. He's just back for one night. On the way back I learned that he was most looking forward to showering on his own, after a week of group showers, or at least tripling up with other guys.

Ew.

He's also so much darker than he was when he left that I swear he must have secretly changed races on me. And they gave him a name: [The Brother] Of-The-Pit. Also, With-The-Rubix-Cube. That's how they identify him: [his name] Of-The-Pit, With-The-Rubix-Cube. Shrewd says "The Pit" is his tribe. I'm not so sure.

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The Brother went to shower alone while Ryter and I hung out and then, once the rest of the family returned, set off half a metric assload of fireworks from a bucket of sand in the street. We didn't destroy anything and the lawn only started smoking once, but it was cool anyway. I love New Hampshire-- this was totally legal...

Plus we have leftovers to launch some other time, probably from a beach somewhere. That will be awesomeness.

We went out to the 99 with my parents and Shrewd afterwards, so my dad finally will stop saying how he doesn't know this strange boy I'm seeing.

My mom and Ryter talked a great deal of the time. My mom really likes Ryter; they have a ton in common with the sci-fi love and more importantly, he can articulate himself and isn't afraid of her just because she's my mom like the Brother's girlfriend seems to be most of the time. She thinks he's awesome.

My dad's final verdict? "He's moving so fast that he's got about five minutes left to live, and he'll get more done in those five minutes than most people ever get around to. He's very high-energy. But he seems like a nice enough guy, and he wins serious points for winning over your mom so completely." I think this was very, very comforting to Ryter-- Daddy tends to be intimidating, even if you don't know him.

But it went well, it all went well. He made an excellent impression. It was a pretty good day.

"Is the Space Pope reptilian?"

Today I dragged Ryter up to Concord to see the planetarium. The show was kind of lame, which was a bummer because sometimes the shows there are pretty good, but this one seemed to be designed for people who knew absolutely nothing about outer space. It's especially bummerful because I had kind of been hoping to prove to Ryter that there are some fun things to do in this state. He has this idea that we have to go to Boston to do anything outside of his apartment besides go to a mall. And yes, most of the attractions in New Hampshire seem kitchsy to a kid who once lived in New York, but I love this state and I've been finding stuff to do in it for nineteen years. I wish I could find a way to show him that New Hampshire's more than just the state with the most legal ways to get yourself killed.

Anyway, any hope I had to convince him that we're not a bunch of rednecks and Massachusetts transplants was kind of dashed by the drive up there and back, during which we saw:

1. A church mounted on cement blocks
2. Kids kicking a soccer ball at a 10-ft-high wooden cross in someone's yard
3. A daycare called "Precious Angels"
4. 10 antique stores
5. 20 crafts stores, most of which were all in a row
6. A place to buy large wooden moose cutouts for your yard
7. A guy wearing his shirt around his head instead of on his back, army fatigues and workman's boots, sitting in a Jeep with no doors, with himself and his Jeep completely coated in mud as if he'd been splashing around in it for hours
8. A guy with a beer belly in a wife beater and Birkenstocks, duct taping a TV antenna to his chimney
9. Giant bales of hay with white tarps over them, which I at first glance assumed were giant marshmallows
10. And the piece de resistance-- a guy flying the Confederate Flag beneath the American one. Yes. The Confederate flag. In New Hampshire. Less than 100 miles from Canada. In the second most Yankee state in the Union, after Maine.

After all, as Ryter says, the unofficial state motto is: "New Hampshire: At least it's not Maine."

After the show we went to a mini-golf course that would have been much more fun if it hadn't been in the 90's and very sunny, and if we hadn't been hungry and the restaurant out of most food, and if Ryter hadn't been worried about his lizard getting overheated with the lights on and all. Plus Ryter was already kind of irritated about the show not being very good.

Best part of the show, in my opinion, was the guy behind us who, when the presenter asked if we had any questions, said, "Yeah, where's Heaven?"

I know that New Hampshire's not exactly fast-paced and exciting, but there's a lot of great things about it. I mean, the White Mountains are awesome and there's tons to look at, like American Stonehenge and Flume Gorge, and it's beautiful in fall. I guess it helps that I grew up here, and I don't expect excitement to jump out from behind our lovely fall foliage. I like apple picking and meandering down the Appalachian trail and going swimming in a snow-fed river that's so cold you turn pink. I like historical reenactment villages and Canobie Lake, the one amusement park that's nothing compared to a Six Flags. I like the outlet stores in North Conway and walking on rocky beaches and peering at tidepools at Odiorne Point, holding starfish in my hands. I like the Deerfield Fair, where you can stare at giant horse butts and watch people train oxen, and eat various fried foods that are probably toxic. I love the Highland Games, the one place where you can see some of the world's strongest men wear kilts and throw tree trunks, and buy tie-dye kilts and listen to bagpipes echoing softly through the mountains. Hell, I've been to Maine, and I like it there, too.

It makes me sad when people from out-of-state, from cities, look at New Hampshire and see rednecks, transplants and Thoreauian poets. The most that they can say for this place is that there's some pretty scenery, fireworks and guns are legal (though not smoking in bars anymore-- we have a Democratic state government now), and there's no sales tax. And it's not