Buckle Up

“Buckle up, B. It’s gonna be a wild ride.”

My father is a man of few words, but the ones he saves for special occasions are never anything less than spot-on. The words above were his toast to my soon-to-be brother-in-law, as we welcomed him into our crazy family with a beach party this past Saturday, the first time the whole family has been together since Christmas. Mama B outdid herself planning the weekend, one of the best I’ve had all summer. Saturday started with drinks at the house while lounging over burgers and hot dogs, and segued into an afternoon and evening at the town beach, all family and close friends, a veritable buffet of everything from 20 lobsters, to figs with lavender honey, to fresh tomatoes picked in the backyard and more, all accompanied by a whole lot of wine. My lovely friend M joined me in Connecticut this weekend, and gets full credit for convincing a very tired and slightly tipsy me to join my brother and a few friends at the one bar in town after the sun went down at the beach. She made the point later that night, while we all drank the ever-symbolic first pumpkin beer of the season, that the holiday weekend didn’t feel like we were mourning the end of summer this year. Instead, we were celebrating the beginning of fall.

Yeah, growing up here didn't suck.

Yeah, growing up here didn’t suck.

The weekend really did feel like a celebration of new beginnings rather than conclusions. Sunday was a lazy morning with just the family, the whole family and spouses-to-be, sharing the best pastries (ones that required me to stand in line at 7:30 a.m. after getting home at midnight, I’m just saying) and omelettes with leftover lobster. Mama B, T, our grandmother and I went to get our nails done before I got on the train, and I spent the rest of the day lounging on my couch, renting movies just for fun and munching on whatever I could find in my bare cabinets. Monday was a morning adventure to Whole Foods and a yoga class with M, into a champagne brunch at Paradou with my fashionista C, partner-in-crime R and her Scot H. I made it home around 6 and spent two hours prepping food all week before collapsing into bed at 8:30, exhausted from the general spirit of a day off. This weekend we celebrated T and her fiance, we celebrated our family, and we celebrated $4,99/lb lobsters for sure. I celebrated time to myself at home to relax and reflect, celebrated the simple luxury of a friend living so close when you need motivation to get to the grocery store on a Monday morning. I celebrated the first of the month, counting down the days till my birthday and toasted all of that at brunch with some of my favorite people in the world.

This fall is going to be another crazy season, I just know it. I’ll have cross-state wedding planing for T, a wedding for another childhood friend, a trip to M’s family house in Maine, a trip to Boston for a few days, and a few other exciting changes coming my way. It’s football games and apple-picking adventures, and I’m finally picking up my apartment redecoration, so weekends of furniture shopping and wall-painting loom in between all of those. Post fall, there’s holidays and a long winter with plans just waiting to be made, more crazy times, more crazy adventures. Papa B’s advice above is great advice for T’s fiance, as he faces a lifetime with a family that celebrates life milestones by busting out the beer at noon and then throwing a party on the public beach. But I think I might take it with me in the next few months, as I buckle up and get ready for my very own wild, wild ride.

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