This past weekend was spent in two very different states of being: the first, ultimate relaxation in Newport at the fifth annual summer party, complete with barbecue, frisbee, sleeping in, staying up, pong, dance parties, and dressing up in tinfoil and dancing to the Beastie Boys’ “Intergalactic.” That last one was new, but may well become a tradition. It was the first interstate trip for my four-speed and radio-less Accord, and she did pretty well. I traveled at around 60 mph, in the far right lane, and passed a total of three people the whole way down. And I only tried to shift into fifth twice, which was even more impressive. The party was a lot of fun, but was of a different nature than previous parties in that it consisted of Aimee’s college friends and none of her family and family friends, so it sort of felt like Newport: The Next Generation. We were all sitting around the tv when the news of Nomar’s trade hit; how would two of Aimee’s friends who named their dog “Nomar” handle it? Guess they’ll have to start following the Cubbies on the side…

Sunday afternoon, part two of my weekend began as I drove home and started loading up the old apartment and making trips to the new place. I was able to get in five car loads in three hours before Aimee came with a bigger car, and Dan came a little later to help with the unwieldy stuff. Remind me to buy a smaller tv than the one I’m currently borrowing; it’s aboout the heaviest, most un-carryable thing I can imagine finding around the home. Anyway, by 10:30, we’d finished the last of the lugging, and everything stood in a pile in my new two-room setup. This morning, Aimee and I started putting things where they belong, re-assembling the Ikea bed, and marveling at just how much crap I have. Is this the time when I start the purge I always promised myself? Maybe. We’ll see.