That boy is no sooner home from the Cape than he is off to spend the night at a friend’s lake house. Nancy fretted that the boys would have nothing to do if the rains fell unabated. She worries when they have too many choices and she worries when they have too few choices. My attitude is that boys will be boys and if all else fails they can go hunting frogs. It wouldn’t be the first time that they went swimming in the rain. I have never been to the camp but I understand that they have no neighbors so getting together for a game of Scrabble isn’t possible. What about cards? There is electricity but no television. The boys did not bring their iPods so they are left to creating whatever they do from whole cloth. Perhaps thankfully, they are staying but one evening. It was hot yesterday so I’m happy for Evan that he had a chance to go swimming with friends to escape the heat. With any luck, they had some fireworks on hand to usher in the fourth of July. In a pinch, sparklers would do just fine.

We took Ev and Noah to Boston to go to the Museum of Science the other day. They endured the ride by hooking up to their iPods and each of them watched a movie of their choice during the hour-long ride. The Museum was having a baseball exhibit which we wanted to see. The exhibit had memorabilia up the yin yang and we saw it all. They even had Kurt Schilling’s bloodied sock from the 2004 World Series games. One regret that I had was that we didn’t bring a pad and pen to write down the various and sundry pieces of baseball music seen in many of the individual exhibits. I have quite a collection from various sources which I have been using to create dvd’s of Evan’s baseball games over the years. Much of what I saw looked familiar but not all and I would have liked to track down those never-heard-pieces. Chances are that if I’ve never heard them then they are probably not ones anyone would recognize were I to use them. We carried along egg salad sandwiches, grapes, and a row of Fig Newtons for dessert. As one might suspect, once we got through the ticket booths, the boys went their way and we went ours. It won’t be the first time that happened and it won’t be the last. Not by far.

I have been titillated to say the least about the latest Hollywood gossip regarding Christie Brinkley and her cheating beau. Not because I pay any attention to the Hollywood rags, and certainly not because I have any sense of Christie Brinkley, because I don’t. Rather, Nancy and I take a different view of what transpired in this case. She is readying her scalpel with a steadied hand for any man who cavorts as he did with a younger woman. I am less inclined to have him indicted outright but certainly frown on the immorality of his actions. I’m of the mind that it takes two to tango and Nan seems to ignore the motivations of the younger woman and I simply cannot. Even though, as Nancy explains with daggers in her eyes that the women in question is within years of the age of his own daughter, I find that argument weak in the knees. Am I to believe that his gnarly behavior is now something akin to incest? That, my dear, is a mighty slippery slope. Put your scalpel away and let the courts decide who will get the Range Rover and the place on the lake at the end of the day. Lastly, part of me thinks that if a man his age can attract a much younger woman then so be it. Unfortunately, that part of me is within reach of Nancy’s steadied and scalpel-readied hand so I am not so inclined to exercise either my opinions or my options in any untoward way anytime soon. What kind of man cheats on a woman like Christie Brinkley anyway? What a cad!