Good Friday

[rolanni]

Yesterday, as previously advertised, Steve and I went to Belfast. It was a brilliant, blue, warm, just-breezy-enough day, and we took our sandwiches and chocolate milk (calcium *Good.* Sigh)down to the public boat launch and had ourselves a modest and relaxing pre-season picnic. The floats were still in, piled untidily up at the entrance to the park, and the only vessels in the harbor were the two tugs and the portmaster's skiff. Most of the downtown stores had their doors open to catch the warm breeze (50 degrees F! A heat wave!) and there was a fair crowd of folks outdoors in their shirt sleeves, smiling in the sunlight.

Came home by way of Searsport, Stockton Springs, Winterport, Bangor -- which is your long way 'round the barn, and spent the evening reading -- Vogue, in my case. My *dear*, I don't get out enough -- and petting cats.

Paid bills this morning for a change, caught up on newsgroups and usenet, fiddled with the journal, and now I'm outta here for the rest of the day, and possibly the evening, too.

Comments

[rolanni.livejournal.com]

This issue of Vogue has an article on Breast Reduction: Is It For You? (Uh. No. Not even if they were -- you know...); The Obesity Crisis in America and Reselling the Stuff in Your Closet: Don't Be Ashamed Everyone Does It (have these people *seen* my closet?), so we have Content. For some definition &c.

But what bemuses me are the *ads*. Mind you, I wrote ad copy for my living, so-called, at one point. What am I to make of the half naked (by which I mean the picture only goes down to the waist) photo of a fourteen +/- year-old-boy comfortably on his back in the sand, and the words "Abercrombie and Fitch" across the bottom of the page? Is Abercrombie and Fitch selling fourteen-year-old boys? This is potentially interesting -- I could use somebody around here to do the mowing, clean out the cat boxes, and wash the dishes. However, there's no information on how I check this young man's resume. It's all very confusing...