|Sunday, July 11, 2004|
Two weeks at the Jersey Shore. Nice. Worked some via cell phone and molassesy dial-up, made a day-trip to New York for a story meeting, then pure vacation. Saw 31 members of the DeMarco clan, not counting the one I married and our whelps.
Rode bikes. Went crabbing from dock and boat. Went to the boardwalk at Seaside. Sunned. Swam. Played mini-golf, to which kids are now old enough to walk by themselves; they still use my money, though. Played guitar. Played Scrabble. Taught the kids and their cousins to play 7-card poker. Ate and ate and ate. Drank. Was merry.
Read: an Elmore Leonard hoods-in-South-Florida saga that I realized after a while I had read before, but enjoyed no less; Shakespeare's Richard the Third; and a crappy technothriller purchased from the rack by the deli counter at Lasola's market.
On the drive up and down I listened to a great lecture series on classical mythology, in which professor Elizabeth Vandiver eviscerates the pop scholarship of both Joseph Campbell and the "Great Goddess" meme. That's one of the good things about driving alone while the family flies -- I don't have to share the radio. Or stop more than once.
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