• by Kelly Samardak , August 9, 2010

Summering

Note: With everyone "Summering" this month of August, party coverage is a little chilled out this week, picking right back up in the next.  Thought I'd share a little summer in the meantime before returning to our regular mini burger infused schedule.  Send those August invitations to kelly@mediapost.com!

Living in a metro area makes it difficult to disconnect, slow down, and relax.  This weekend I finally felt that true relaxation - where the only sounds are the weeping willow leaves tickling the salt-tinged pale lavender air and the only blather is coming from the end of the dock as the neighborhood swans belly up for their bread fix.  And the only mouth noises come from the bluefish as they smack their fish lips against the hook lodged in their gums.

As you can no doubt surmise from my intro paragraph up there, I spent the weekend in heaven.  Heaven came splashed with the sea spray of the cold hard reality of a young woman suffering from debilitating diabetes who is now in waiting mode for the phone call of "GO!" for an organ transplant. "If you think about it," my friend said, after we discussed how amazing the woman's family is -- seriously, I think they emit rays of warm orangey-yellow light -- "they're also waiting for someone else to die."  I know, uplifting, right?  This made it easy to head up to Swansea, Mass. for a walkathon to help the aforementioned young woman with her seemingly endless expenses.

The walkers were great, sure, but the real heroes were the people who donated.  No one is finding a wad of cash under the mattress anymore, but somehow friends and family and local businesses ponied up whatever they could.  It made me wobbly-mouthed and wet-eyed each time a new email from a friend came in saying they wanted to help.  The majority of my friends are single, newly married, living in sin, or newly babied, living paycheck to NYC paycheck, yet they immediately jumped forward to help.  To help out a total stranger!  It warms my cold moldy heart, it does.  Thank you to ANYONE who donates regularly to any charity or foundation EVER.  You renew my faith in the goodness of people.

After the walkathon, my posse and I loaded onto charter boat "Pro Fishin' Sea" under the superior skill of Captain Osmon and his first mate, his wife (the real captain) and headed into the choppy seas.  The only way I can paint the picture for you is like this: right now, get out of your chair, stand on it, then jump down hard and land on it again with your butt while your cubemate hits you in the back of the head and another co-worker throws a pail of water at your liver.  It was sort of like that.

We did reach calmer waters where the bluefish were fighting and the scup were scupping.  I can still feel the sway of the boat as I sit here at my desk.  Central Park is great for sun-soaking and all, but there is nothing like going all starfish on the bow with a freezing cold Stella in your hand.

After a weekend devouring lobster, fresh corn (so tasty it must have been touched by elfin whispers), littlenecks, pan-seared scallops, and our very own bluefish -- and hunting tiny starfish, hilarious fiddler crabs (have you seen those guys? They skitter around with that one huge claw swiping angrily and I just giggle myself into a coma), blue crabs, and the perfect sunning spot, I'm back, trying to continue channeling vacation mode.  So far... well, let's just say we're back on the Just An Online Minute track.

This week is going to be extra fun because, though they don't know it yet, I'm going to ask the winners from my Janelle Monae contest to double as Just An Online Minute writers.  Keep an eye out for their guest post this week.  I'll be covering the Lucky viral media party as well -- and right now, well, I'm confused.  The invitation was clever, sure, but lacking any background info, and the site doesn't even list their leadership team or real people email contacts: just "hi@lucky , jobs@lucky..."  And according to the Facebook invitation, they're still waiting for 735 people to reply.  I'm thinking of a word and it starts with an s and rhymes with "fit show."

I'm going to go splash some salt water on my face now and repeat my mantra I tried out this morning: "Work IS vacation."  Try it, let me know how it goes.

Chasing away the August sweat with a party? Send invitations to kely@mediapost.com!

Larger photos are up on Flickr!