Sounds of Silence

Rainy slow Saturday; I didn't even get up until 11.  The crockpot is bubbling hamburger stew, I'm reading on my kindle while Prince Eric watches football.  Sigh, are there any better days than this?  Well, in *my* perfect world, there wouldn't be football in the background, but I don't live in the world by myself.  I read an article recently about introverts and recognized myself: oversensitive to and uncomfortable with loud stimuli and large groups.

I grew up in a fairly small family with few extended family members, plus with my dad being military we moved every couple of years and didn't live near relatives for many years.  I always envied the big Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings on TV and wanted to join these big get-together's at Grandma's house with all the cousins and aunts and uncles bearing gifts.  It wasn't until I experienced one of these that I realized how much I enjoyed the solitude of my nuclear family.  Our group of 4 lived in a good sized house and we all had our separate corners to retreat.  Perfect for introverts like me and my mom.  My dad was more social and my brother maybe somewhere in between.

I've always been most happy with a book.  For Christmas this year, I got a sweatshirt and bumper sticker that read:  Some of my best friends are fictional characters.  Yup, totally true.  I have to make a conscious effort to establish real life friendships.  I think I'm fairly friendly and likeable but being social doesn't come naturally for me.  I'm not good at small talk or chit chat.  I'm a "get to the point" person and can sometimes be blunt.  Phone calls are torture for me.  I've heard many times over the years "I thought you were a bitch until I got to know you!"  Umm, thanks?  I can't help it that I've got Resting Bitch Face.  My natural countenance is unsmiling but I'm far from mean.  I really do treasure my friends and social contact with my co-workers.

Prince Eric is a very social creature and loves to have parties and meet new people.  Luckily, he understands that this is painfully awkward for me and I'm glad he's there to bring me out of my shell a little.  So, the next time you see someone at a party who looks like there being tortured, go over and say hi (because they're not going to come over to you).  You might meet a new friend.  Or if not, at least you can complain "jeez, who invited the bitch in the corner?"

The Annual Christmas Letter

I grew up loving to read the many Christmas cards that started coming in early December.  I especially liked the ones that included newsy letters updating us on their life.  This was way before email and facebook; we had to wait a whole year to hear what was happening in our families and friends lives.  As an adult, I started sending out annual Christmas letters too.  For many years I thought of different creative ways to frame our news.  Letters set to Twas the Night Before Christmas, Jingle Bells, a newspaper style letter, the year in pictures, even a letter from our pet's point of view.  My creative streak seems to be over, last year I didn't even send out cards.  This year, I just went back to the straight forward letter.

Season’s Greetings from the Oregon Coast!

Another year down, where does the time go? We’ve been at the coast for over a year now and while I do love having the ocean nearby I miss the ever present sunshine of the high desert areas. It’s a drippy dreary day as I type this letter, though the weather overall is better than I expected and we have more nice days than not. Last Christmas we were enjoying 80 degree temps at Disneyland!

For the second year, Prince Eric and I competed in the Newport Amazing Race and the Depoe Bay Pirate Treasure Hunt – and we came in 1^st place!! We won lots of swag and gift certificates and next year we plan to help out on the other side and be characters for the day as others compete. I’m already planning my mermaid costume . . . . I’m still working at the county health department with medical insurance programs and Prince Eric is still at his Title office. This year, he also added the position of Head Softball Coach at the local High School to his resume and is gearing up for the next season. We recently spent a few days in Las Vegas at a softball convention where he learned new drills he’s chomping at the bit to implement.

Sebastian, 22, is a senior at the University of Oregon (yes, the same university that just produced Heisman Trophy winner Marcus Mariota!) and will graduate with his BS in Environmental Science next year and plans to join the Peace Corps somewhere in South America after graduation.  Melody, 17, is a junior in High School and lettered in both basketball and softball last year. She is also the Junior Class Secretary, it’s nice to see her stretch beyond her comfort zone and try new things. We also have a new teenager in the house, our exchange student from France, "Pepe".  It’s been fun learning about and misunderstanding each other’s cultures, as well as introducing Pepe to the joy of peanut butter. I think we may have to send a crate home with him.

Our extended families are doing well. Prince Eric's mom lives in Lincoln City (about 45 minutes from us) and continues to work out of her home and travel all over the US. My mom continues to enjoy retirement in Newport, staying up late and sleeping in and playing Lumosity on the computer to keep her brain sharp. My brother, Prince Florian, lives in Portland and got married on September 5^th to his girlfriend, Snow White. We threw together a last minute evening sunset wedding overlooking the ocean and Sebastian officiated using his mail order minister certificate.

Flounder, Scuttle and Grimsby and a ton of fleas continue to live together somewhat harmoniously. After peeing on the couch one too many times, Scuttle has become an outdoor cat and discovered his inner tiger. He comes in for food and quickly feels the walls closing in on him before dashing back out.  Grimsby watches with jealousy, he's not allowed outside.  Flounder is almost 10 years old and prances around like a puppy on the beach but growls like a grumpy ol’ man when it’s raining.  

Heck, we can’t complain. We’re blessed to have good jobs, good health, easy going lives and a beautiful place to call home. As a bonus, the Seattle Seahawks (city of my birth) won the Super Bowl on my 41st birthday!  I hope life finds you well, also.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Let's Get Real - a Guest Post

In the spirit of thanksgiving and gratitude this seemed like a good story to share.  I copied this post from a strong woman I have known for many years, it's important to remember that we are all in this world together.

The world and social media has gone fucking nuts. I get that people see the problem and the solution differently – it’s been this way since the beginning of time. What I don’t understand is when did people become so mean to each other? Has it always been this way and I just didn't notice…or has the platform of social media provided once decent, compassionate people the opportunity to say things they wouldn't normally say? 

The world felt heavy today, and on my way into town I passed a homeless man standing in the rain. I felt inspired to buy him a cup of coffee because he looked cold and miserable. As I was purchasing his coffee an idea hit me, rather than just giving him the cup of coffee and leaving I would stay and drink mine with him. I would have coffee with a homeless person…in the rain, and get his perspective on the world. So I joined him on the corner and learned that his name was David. We reminisced about the fact that we had both lived in San Diego and discussed the trials of raising children (he has five grown daughters). David has pancreatic cancer and became homeless when his mother who he was caring for passed away. He didn't qualify to stay in her Section 8 apartment by himself and his $400.00 a month is not enough to afford his own place. He chooses to not sleep in the shelter because he told me that, “In the shelter, you wake up with less stuff than you went in with”. He prefers to sleep in his sleeping bag by himself…I told him that was pretty brave, I would be scared of rapists or serial killers and he jokingly replied, “Yes, I hate it when I get killed”. This made me laugh, and I was enjoying David’s company. He had such a positive attitude, when he told me he had pancreatic cancer and I said that I was sorry to hear that…he replied, “It will be ok” with a smile. 

I asked David if he needed anything and he said, “Just $14.00”… that was his goal for the day. He took a shiny penny out of his pocket and said, “Penny for your thoughts” Then he looked at me, I mean really looked at me and said, “Candy, what do you need”? I instantly started to tear up… a homeless man with cancer was asking me what I needed. As I tried to come up with an answer to give a person who doesn't have anything, I realized that I had the privilege of having needs that were much more existential. So I told David, I just needed people to be nice. Lean in here, because this is where shit gets real. David put his hand on my shoulder, looked deep in my eyes and said, “I’m so sorry”. That’s where I lost it, I don’t know if it was the heaviness of the day, or his compassion, or his intense presence in the moment. He held me as I sobbed while we stood in the rain on the street corner. After a few moments he said, “I just want people to be nice too”.

As I was leaving I put that penny in my coat pocket to keep as a reminder of how strange and wonderful life is and to inspire myself to always be willing to step outside of myself and challenge the status quo.

Oh, and to be nice of course. 

P.S. If you live in Kitsap County and see David on the corner of Randall and Silverdale Way and you feel so inclined, please show him some love and be sure to mention my name so that he will know that I am thinking about him.

You Cannot Teach Old Monkeys to Make Faces

"On n'apprend pas aux vieux singes à faire des grimaces" is the French phrase equivalent to "you can't teach an old dog new tricks".  

I've always been intrigued by words: their meaning, origin, spelling, etc.  I've taken classes in American Sign Language, Spanish, French and even a little Mandarin Chinese. It's interesting how separately these letters are meaningless but bound together can conjure up so many different images and feelings.  We grow up learning "sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me" but we all know words can be very powerful. However, words can only have the meaning and power you assign to them.

Our family increased by one a little over a month ago when a French exchange student, hereby known as "Frenchie", came to live with us for the school year.  His main goal in coming to the US is to improve his English so that he can get into an engineering flight school.  Most of the time it is not difficult to communicate with him as he speaks English fairly well.  However, it also often gives us much amusement.

One of the funniest language confusions was when he asked us "who's your Christmas Daddy"?  Huh?  It took some more questioning to realize he meant Santa Claus!  In France, he is known as Pere Noel (Father Christmas) so he translated it quite literally.  I kinda like Christmas Daddy myself.

Another common language error he makes is using pronouns he or she for objects.  If you've ever taken a foreign language, such as French or Spanish, you know that unlike English, all objects have a masculine or feminine designation.  While we do correct him because his goal is to improve his language skills, I've grown fond of thinking of objects as possessing male or female attributes.  Last night Frenchie was looking for an apple in the bin, and he tells me "there is one . . .but she is dead".  Isn't that much more descriptive and romantic sounding than "it's rotten"?

He is quickly becoming an American teenager.  He joined the high school football team, despite never having played nor even watched a game.  He has discovered the joy of peanut butter, apple pie and Dr. Pepper.  He is even a Homecoming Prince and will go to his first school dance this weekend. We've taken him to Walmart, a college football game (Ducks, of course), Rocky Horror Picture Show and in December we're going to Las Vegas.  We're giving him the complete American Experience.  I encourage anyone who has a little extra room to invite one of these kids into your home.  It's a great adventure.

And speaking of words, November 1st is NaNoWriMo  Thousands sign up for this yearly challenge to write a 50,000 word rough draft of a novel.  I've toyed with the idea for years but not quite sure I'm ready to take the plunge.  If you're interested, check it out. There's probably a group near you.  Oh yeah, don't forget to turn your clocks back this weekend too.

Que Sera, Sera . . . or Let it Go, Part Deux

As I approach 42, the reality of having another child seems further away.  A post I saw the other day asked "How old will you be when your youngest child graduates high school?"  If I had a baby in the next year or so, I will be 61 ish.  Wow, that was kind of eye opening.  Do I want to still want to be raising a teenager at 60?

Yesterday, I did something I've never done before; I had a psychic reading done.  A friend has been encouraging me to visit a working psychic she has seen before for clarity on issues in her life.  I saw an advertisement the other day for a "Spiritual and Healing Arts Fair" being held locally and I thought it would be interesting to check out.  We made it a ladies' day out and four of us met for lunch at a Thai place and then onto the woo-woo fair.  The psychic I've been wanting to see was there and doing readings - yay!  I waited my turn and sat down to hear my fate.  First she asked to hold my hand and asked me to state my full given name.  We talked for about 15 minutes, she would tell me some thoughts she was getting and she gave me the opportunity to ask her some specific questions I had.  Of course, I explained our last year of trying to conceive and asked her if it was something I should pursue more aggressively or just "let it go".  She said she could see me having another pregnancy and baby, but it would be when I wasn't expecting yet and it would not happen right away.  I'm not sure what to make of my experience.  Some of the things she told me were vague, or could have been inferred by my comments, others seemed like it was affirming what I wanted to hear, and other stuff just seemed off.

I'm open to the paranormal.  I saw and interacted to fairies when I was little, I've had predictive "flashes" throughout my life and have felt ghostly presences.  When I was a teen I had tarot cards, studied Wicca and was a big X-files fan.  I want to believe.

But, I also have a healthy dose of realism that keeps me from fully jumping into the mystical pot. However, I did pause when I sat down at another booth where a licensed massage therapist, who was also an "intuitive empath" was giving chair massages.  She started on my tight neck muscles and asked "do you have fibromyalgia?"  The psychic reader had also just asked me that.  I've had aches and pains in my shoulders, neck and hips over the years that I thought was maybe osteoarthrosis but had never considered fibromyalgia.  I'm not sure that this is my issue but it is something to watch.

Basically, my takeaway from this, and in general I've felt my life is leading me to this path, is that I need to take better care of my body.  I want to feel better and look better.  I don't want to huff and puff when I walk up a short hill.  I don't want to creak and groan when I get up off the couch.  I was so happy that I successfully lost 30 lbs with Weight Watchers a couple of years ago.  I'm not happy that I've put it all back on.  I was energized going to Zumba on a regular basis, now I barely do anything active.  Along with letting go of my hair dye, I'm ready to let go of trying to conceive, and let go of preservative and sugar laden foods.  I love sugary foods, I like junk food and fast food drive thrus.  That's definitely going to be the hardest part but I know it will be worth it.

I'm Bringing Sexy Back

Let it Go! Let it Go!

Gray that is. Or silver if that sounds prettier. I've been dyeing my hair since I was about 15. Then, it was to play around with dramatic colors: red, black, burgundy, bleached and green colored ends, etc. In my 20’s and early 30’s I would do it to add a nice richer shine to my dark brown hair. The last few years, I've done it to cover my ever increasing grays. I got my first gray hair at 19, right after my son was born. My mom was also an early grayer. My dad, however, had a full head of brown hair up until he passed away at 62.

Gray is really hard to cover. The dryness keeps it from absorbing much dye and even if it’s initially covered it only lasts a few weeks. I don’t really mind the 2 wings on my temples that might make neat stripes but I’m not as fond of the salt and pepper throughout the rest of my hair.

I've been mulling over this decision for awhile. I like looking younger than I am. I like that people think I’m way too young to have a son that’s almost 22. Thanks to many years of sunscreen use, my face has nice, smooth, mostly wrinkle- free skin. My arms and hands are getting that “crepey” look, and when I look at my hands all I picture are my mom’s. I’m afraid that my silver hair will age me. When other younger women have allowed their grays to grow I think they look older than they are. Often I’ll think that if only they colored their hair they would look 5-10 years younger. 

The bigger debate is: should I care? If I was 60, or maybe even 50, it wouldn’t be an issue. But I’m not, I’m a 41 year old who often passes for mid 30’s. Does Prince Eric care if I’m gray? Of course not (he’s a smart man). Will anyone love me any less with silver streaked hair? Of course not. Will I be taken less seriously at work and with the public with gray hair? Probably not. Is being gray a health issue? Of course not. Actually, hair dye chemicals are more likely to hurt me. This is purely a vanity issue and I know that.

I was curious about attitudes about gray hair and according to my google research, gray is the new sexy blonde. One lady in her 50’s did an experiment where she posted two identical profiles on a dating website, 3 months apart, with a photo in her natural gray hair and the same photo with her hair photo-shopped brunette. She got more winks and profile looks with gray hair, and this held true when she duplicated the experiment in different parts of the country.

So I’m taking the plunge. I last dyed my hair about a month ago and I’m going to LET IT GO! C’mon Silver Sisters – who’s with me??

Don't Turn Your Back on the Ocean

My feet sigh as they hit the sand and it forms to my step.  How people can wear shoes on the beach I don't know. It dulls the whole experience; like eating a meal without being able to smell or see it.  I've been continuing on my beach walks during my lunch break and it's something I look forward to.  I found a new beach access, my stairway to heaven I call it.

I took this path last Friday and had a reminder lesson that the ocean is not forgiving.  It was a foggy day and I was mostly alone on the beach as I wandered down to the shoreline.

I was trying to get a picture of the water washing gently over my feet.

The water was slow to reach me so I kept moving further out.

 I noticed a strange crossing pattern of the waves as the water built up.

 Suddenly I noticed a wall of water that quickly hit my legs.

I could feel the sucking power as the tide pulled back out.  It was a scary feeling.  Even worse, on this foggy weekday with no one around, no one would have even seen me if I needed help.

Even though I know how quickly a large wave can form and wash over you I was still unprepared.  Every year people die on our shores.  They get caught in riptides while playing in waist level surf and are unable to escape.  People who attempt to rescue them also get caught.  And yes, Prince Eric, we also have sharks.  The average shark attack takes place in 3 feet of water.

I cringe when I see young children playing at the edge of the water.  I'm not a paranoid helicopter parent by any means but I don't think people understand the real danger.  If you go to the beach: be aware of riptides, know whether the tide is coming in or out, wear a fitted wet suit if you're surfing and never turn your back on the ocean.  Please read the tips in the link below, it may save your life.

Ocean Safety Tips

My Opinion May Not Be Yours

Robin William's suicide is all I'm seeing on Facebook. He touched many lives, my generation grew up watching him first on Happy Days, Mork and Mindy and then his big screen movies.  I proudly wore a pair of Mork suspenders during the first grade.  I liked his serious characters even more: Good Morning Vietnam, Good Will Hunting, Awakenings.  I feel like I lost someone I knew, but I can't forget he intentionally took his own life.

I understand depression; I've lived with it most of my life.  I've worked in social services / healthcare for over twenty years. I've known many struggling with addiction and mental illness and I've known people who have taken their own lives.  People who commit suicide truly feel that the world is better off without them and their anguish is so strong that they can't see beyond the immediate situation.  I get that.  But I can't reconcile people ending their life when others are struggling to keep theirs.  If it had been a heart attack or a car accident, that would be tragic.  Suicide isn't tragic, it's just sad.

I especially don't understand people who have supportive family and friends, who have access to treatment, who have resources available to them.  People who leave behind young children.  Many of us in the Northwest followed the recent story of Jennifer Huston, the 38 year old mother of 2 young boys who disappeared without a trace only to be found to have committed suicide.  How do you do that your children?  This will forever taint and shape their lives.

It's especially sad when young people end their lives, but teenagers don't have the capacity to truly understand the long-term consequence of their actions.  Suicide is also common in the elderly who may feel they have lost too much in their life (parents, spouses, friends, independence, physical mobility) for it to be worthwhile.  But the group in between the two should be at their highest level of mental and physical health.  Life is relatively short already, how do you end it sooner when there is so much to experience in life?

There's so much stuff I want to see and do in the world, I want more time not less.  I think of all the people valiantly fighting cancer every step of the way.  I remember a young preschool friend of Melody's who lost her mom to cancer at the age of 3.  We attended her 5th birthday party and saw a letter her mom had written to her to be opened on her birthday. She lovingly prepared a letter for her children for every year up to age 18.  Do you think she understands someone willingly leaving their family?

So, no.  I won't be participating in tributes to people who take their own lives.  We don't know what "led them down that dark path" and we don't know what kind of battles they were facing but ultimately it was a conscious choice.  I'm saving my sympathy for the family.  I'm saving my heartache for those who are murdered, or suffer accidental deaths or succumb to cancer.

A Year in Review

Hard to believe that a year ago this week I wrote my first post about moving to the coast, exploring my new area and looking for work.  I found a great job with benefits just as summer ended and we threw ourselves into coastal living.  We're starting our second year on some of these events;  Prince Eric and I competed in the Amazing Race again and are looking forward to the Pirate Treasure Hunt in a couple of weeks.  Next weekend, we are going to compete in a sandcastle contest!  I'm not really a competitive person, but there is fun stuff to do here.  Last weekend I entered a cake in a local event, and came in 2nd, winning an apron and $10.  Most things cost very little to enter and many benefit charity organizations.

In February, we moved from our oceanside gated community with a private cove to a place a little cheaper and closer to our jobs.  I snuck Flounder back to his favorite beach there recently.  Last year he would frolic and run, the joy clear on his face.  This year it is obvious he is getting older.  As Prince Eric pointed out to me, in approximate dog years he is 7 years older.  He enjoyed the beach and walked along the water's edge with me, but didn't frolic freely.  While he's not that old for a smaller dog, he'll be 10 in February, it saddens me that our time with him is probably 3/4 over.

We are aging too.  Last September I had surgery to repair my fallopian tubes so that Prince Eric and I could have a child together.  It hasn't worked.  As I near 42 and Prince Eric 45 (both also next February) I'm losing hope that it will happen but we knew beforehand that our chances weren't real high, I just didn't want to miss the opportunity to try.   Prince Eric is putting things into place to return to school to meet his ultimate goal of coaching college softball.  I'm expanding my role at work and learning and taking on some new things, which I enjoy.

Melody will be starting her junior year at a different school.  While she prefers the smaller charter school she went to last year, it doesn't have the sports program she desires.  She also has her first real job working in a local restaurant and is building her bank account. Sebastian is starting his senior year of college and is schooling us on saving the environment.  He's looking at post-grad opportunities in the Peace Corps or Ameri-corps.

Overall, this has been a great year of growth for us all.  However, I haven't crossed anything off my bucket list in 2014 and the year is more than half over!  Maybe I need to add "Win a Sandcastle building contest"  . . .
 

We are not unlike a particularly hardy crustacean. . . With each passage from one stage of human growth to the next we, too, must shed a protective structure. We are left exposed and vulnerable -- but also yeasty and embryonic again, capable of stretching in ways we hadn't known before. These sheddings may take several years or more. Coming out of each passage, though, we enter a longer and more stable period in which we can expect relative tranquility and a sense of equilibrium regained.

Gail Sheehy

I'm Starting to See a Pattern Here . . .

I always intend (see: the road to hell) to blog more but I can't write without inspiration and a good dose of motivation.  More disciplined, i.e. paid, writers seem to be able to sit down and blurt out words on demand but since I don't have any incentive other than my ego, I guess my audience has to wait with bated breath for me to impart my pearls of wisdom.

Today when I was on my almost daily walk on the beach I started noticing natural patterns, further defined by Wikipedia as "symmetries, trees, spirals, meanders, waves, foams, arrays, cracks and stripes".  There's tons of research on the psychology of symmetry and how humans and animals are attracted to mates with symmetrical features.  Also, theories abound on how early human survival depended on recognizing patterns.  Whatever . . . my theory is simpler:  Nature's cool.  Check out the pictures I took today just in one small area:

 We often build things that also follow natural patterns, these are from the same area as above:

Frank Lloyd Wright is probably one of the best known examples of builders who built with organic images and linear patterns.  One of his designs, the Gordon House, seen below, can toured in Silverton at the Oregon Gardens.  It's fascinating the level of details put into maintaining lines and patterns.  While I'm sure Oregon's not the only place where cool nature is in abundance, I'm thankful to live in an area where it is all around me.

I Want to be a Southern Belle

Randomly the last few movies I watched have been set in the South, as have the last few books I picked on my kindle.  I don’t know if it’s because of our weather heading into sunshine but lately I’ve been aching for a sultry summer afternoon on the front porch of a big ol’ antebellum home.  The front yard is overgrown with the heady scent of jasmine and magnolia blossoms and the weeping willows provide shade.  I glisten with the ladylike glow of humidity as I drink my sweet tea on the porch swing. . .  maybe with some fresh muddled lime and mint, heck let’s just make it a mojito . . .  I’m thinking deep South:  Louisiana, Georgia, Alabama. 

My first memories are of the lighthouse keeper’s house we lived in on the Florida panhandle.  It's the first house down the beach, to the right of the lens.

  I remember beautiful white sands and blue skies, finding sand dollars on the beach, giant horseshoe crabs and turtle crossing the roads.  I remember the cardboard box car “Herbie the Love Bug” (this was the mid 70’s) that my brother and I used to slide down the stairs as our racetrack.  (Granted, that could’ve happened anywhere, not just the South).

I’m sure I’m romanticizing things; I’m not envisioning the snakes on the neighbor’s porch, the caterpillars that were infested in our walls, or the 300 fire ant bites I received.   In 2006 we brought my Dad’s ashes to his family in Dickinson, on the gulf coast of Texas near Galveston.  It was June, I was a giant sweatball and I was constantly slapping at large mosquitoes.  But, there was that delicious silky feel in the evening air, sultry is the best word I can come up with for it.  Everyone was so friendly and we heard “Yes, Ma’am” and “Yes, Sir” everywhere.  However, I was a white woman visiting in the south.  I’m sure if I had been a minority or if I was living there I might sense an undertone of racism or sexism that isn’t so prevalent in the Pacific Northwest.

Back to my fantasy:   I wander barefoot through the pecan and peach groves that happen to grow in my backyard, selectively picking and eating the ripe juicy fruit off the tree.  Snacking on pecans warmed by the sun I head down to the watering hole to cool off with my trusty lab (sorry Flounder, terrier pugs didn’t seem very southern) whose name is probably Sadie.   When I reach the small stream fed pond I dip my feet in, settle my blanket and pull up out Gone with the Wind on my kindle from my bag.  I stay here reading until the sun starts to set and the crickets and frogs start to chirp and croak.  

Prince Eric strolls down the path, back from a hard day of work supervising the plantation.  He’s carrying a picnic basket that he’s put together and pulls out: Pizza!  Yum, my favorite!

Readers:  what is your favorite book and/or movie that invokes the South to you?

Ocian in View! O! the Joy!

For someone who lives at the edge of the Pacific I feel like I spend very little time on the beach.  When we first planned to move here I envisioned daily strolls and contemplative sojourns on the sands.  Just like all plans, seems like something always come up instead.  Work, softball games, the weather, grocery shopping, household chores . . . .there's always something "more important".

Recently, I had a 6 month job review with my boss and while I like to skip lunch and leave early she stressed that rules require I take a midday break, at least half an hour.  I realized that this is the perfect designated beach time, especially now that the weather is turning to summer.  I work in 4 different offices during the week, all within a short distance to the beach.  Last week I spent 45 minutes of one lunch soaking up the sun, walking in the surf and playing in the sand.  Another day I walked a two-mile trail to the beach that lead to an interpretive boardwalk.  The smell of the salt air, the seagulls squawking, the ocean breeze:  it was wonderful. Being a spur of the moment decision, I wasn't quite dressed for this trek however, and I returned to work happy but sweaty and with blistered toes.

Today, I had my spare pair of tennis shoes, grabbed my sunglasses and walked from my office a quarter mile to the park overlooking the beach.  We're having minus tides and beautiful sunshine and I watched people tide pooling and flying kites.  I am so fortunate to have this wondrous ocean so close and I'm determined to appreciate it more.  My goal:  to tickle my toes in the sand and to dip them in the ocean at least once a week.  I'm required to take this mandatory midday breather, why not enjoy it?

Random Cats, Random Thoughts.

Arrggghh, I had just reached the end of this blog.  My stray little left finger hit something random on the bottom.  Erased. My. Whole. Post.  But, I have it saved!!  It's okay.  Nope, as I go to hit the back button, the auto save feature kicks in, saving my worthless blank screen.  I'm starting all over.  I knew cats were assholes . . .

Three random cats have passed randomly in front of my office door in the last 2 days.  I've never seen a cat outside my office in the 7 months I've worked here; do coastal kitties hibernate in the winter?  The first one I saw, I jumped up, opened my door and called to it "here kitty kitty!"  I'm not sure why my first thought was to invite her in, share gossip over a cup of tea, and I'm not sure what I'd have done if she had accepted my offer.  I'm not a stranger to conversing with stray animals:  dogs guarding their pickups at the grocery store, cows chewing cud in the pasture, sheep frolicking in the field.  I frequently give the waddup nod to the animals I pass and I've forever felt an almost psychic connection to them.  Granted, the convro I carry on in my head is probably imaginary but it seems to be real at the time to me.  (This shouldn't come as a surprise to you at this point, remember I do have a official DSM-IV diagnosis).  But, apparently I'm not the only one who bonds with animals, people in the US spend over $50 billion annually on their furkids.

Ursula has never been an animal lover but she acquiesed when we moved to a rental house in 1982 that came with mama cat and her brood squatting under the porch.  We kept 2 of the kittens; Mistopher lived to be almost 17 years old, surviving long enough to meet both of my kids, and to this day remains the best cat ever.  I still miss him at times.  Since then we've always had a cat, or two and sometimes three.  My brother almost qualifies as a "crazy cat man" and has had several of the furry beasts shared amongst roommates.  My childhood dream was to live on farm and I fantasized about milking mooing cows, gathering eggs from clucking chickens and running through the tall cornfields.   Watching Stephen King's Children of the Corn on HBO tampered down this last dream a little . . .   However, my kids have grown up with an occasional rabbit, hamster, chick and a dog.

My last semester of college I was required to take a course outside of my major and I truly enjoyed and learned from my Animals in Human Culture class.  I even started to wonder if animals, rather than human health, was my true calling but at that point it was a little late to change direction.  Maybe someday I'll be able to combine the two professionally.  Hippotherapy is fascinating; the American Quarter Horses's gait mimics that of people and riding horses causes the hip to move in a natural fashion that is difficult to simulate otherwise. Many children who don't have the ability to control their body or walk benefit from this physical therapy.  We even have a local therapeutic riding center, Bright Horizons, that is always looking for help.  Melody had looked into volunteering there but wasn't able to due to school, work and sports, but nothing (well except me being lazy and anxious about new things since I went off zoloft to not interfere with a potential intrauterine parasite aka a baby) is keeping me from doing it!  

Random thoughts: 

• Still not knocked up, am I too old?  Are my eggs already hard boiled?
• Shout out to Buzz Malone!  Thank you for your encouraging words about my writing.  It's not often that a real published author applauds your talent.
• Sometimes the substitute is good enough.  Store brand, Journey cover band at the casino, Elvis impersonators.
• Mean Girls is still the best (and most quotable) movie ev-uh!
• I really want to start zumba again, I miss shakin' my hips like a 41 year old white woman with no rhythm.
• I love spring and sunshine and flowers!
• There's a 30% chance that it's already raining!  (see Random Thought #4)
• It causes me mental anguish to end a sentence in a preposition.  Thank you, Mrs. Stevens, you were the greatest 5th grade teacher ev-uh!

Getting Committed. . . No Institution Needed

Yep, we've been living in sin for about a year; strictly for financial reasons though.  I would love to have a barefoot beach wedding with a flowy pink dress and Prince Eric in khaki shorts and a decor of mixed vintage shabby chic (check out my pinterest page if you want more visuals).   But until Melody finishes college we will continue to shack up without legal status.  At least we have the option to be legally married, I can't say the same for our gay family and friends.  Does it really matter?  Can't you love someone and be committed to them regardless of your orientation?  The US divorce rate is something like 50% . . . is gay marriage really going to lead to a downfall?

I was browsing our local newspaper when I saw an article about the Little Log Church & Museum  in Yachats and their annual Valentine's Day Commitment & Renewal Ceremony.  I emailed Prince Eric and asked him "hey, want to get fake married on Friday, it's only a $10 donation?"  Sparing no romance here.  The plan was to not only have the ceremony for us, but to surprise our moms whom we were just going to "invite to dress up in red and go to Valentine's dinner".  Unfortunately, due to the size of the church, and they are allowing 28 couples in for this group ceremony, there will be no room for viewers.  So, Plan B was to sneak in Melody, our videographer, and then meet our moms for dinner.  But, by then it will be almost 7 pm.  Depending on where we ate, one or both of our moms would be having to drive home in the dark.  The central coast does not use street lights and it gets very dark along the roadways here; not good on older eyes. 

Okay, plan C:  let's throw a last minute party at our house on Saturday!  Oh wait, we have an out of town softball practice this weekend. 

Plan D: Post video on my blog and brunch with moms on our way out of town!  We'll have to throw the open house later.  Oh wait, Melody has plans with friends.

Plan E: Okay, we'll get someone to take a few still pictures.  One mom has company, other one wants to wait until we can all have brunch

Plan F:  Pictures and a blog post it is!!

And after all, isn't that was commitment is all about?  Compromises, combining families and committing to a shared goal . . . even if the road is uncertain and bumpy.

Here's what I've learned about love:

• I can be a Strong Independent Woman, but let people know of my plans so they don't worry.
• I'm not always right, nor do I need to be.
• We can fight and disagree, and it doesn't mean either of us are bailing out.
• Football's not really that bad but it's okay if I'd rather read a book.
• Sometimes I pay, sometimes you pay and no one keeps track.
• Sleeping in the other room because I snore really loud doesn't mean you don't love me.
• Meeting online isn't just for losers.
• None of these things are exclusive to straight relationships.

Prince Eric always previews my posts and wanted to share his own list:

What Prince Eric has learned about love:

• Being a step parent is harder than it looks
• It's okay to record a game and watch it later.
• I have to remember that I'm not a "one" anymore and compromising isn't losing.
• Love will sneak up on you if you're not paying attention.
• Gnomes are cooler than you think.
• True love will follow you where ever you may go.
• Meeting online isn't just for losers.
• None of these things are exclusive to straight relationships.

 

Synchronicities of the Universe

synchronicity (ˌsɪnkrəˈnɪsɪtɪ) —n: an apparently meaningful coincidence in time of two or more similar or identical events that are causally unrelated

It always seems mysterious when something like this happens.  Serendipity, synchronicity, coincidence . . . however you want to view it, I like to believe in the magical side of things.  When we moved to the coast, we found a place we liked and agreed against our better judgement to a 3 year lease that increased by $75 monthly every year.  We love our house and it's surroundings but it has 3 of us commuting separately 12 miles each way daily, and it's a bit pricey.

I've hinted of some changes to come and while it hasn't panned out yet, I feel like sharing our "secret".  In September, Prince Eric and I made a whirlwind trip to LA to get my tubal ligation reversed.  Yep, we're trying to have a baby.  Yep, we're both in our early 40's and my other two kids are 21 and 16.  Yep, we might be crazy.  Unfortunately, we haven't been successful in this baby making venture yet, but one of the issues is that we live in a (technically) 2 bedroom house. Sebastian's room is a glorified closet but since he's only home on college breaks it works out ok.  If we had another child we would essentially be kicking Sebastian out of our home.  We were wondering if there was any way we could get out of our lease.  Lo and behold, the owner of the house contacts us last week and asks if we want out of our lease because of some "project he's going to go forward with".  Heck yeah!  We've spent this week searching and have now applied for a new rental closer to our work, $200 a month cheaper rent, 4 bedrooms and has a nice big fenced yard, something we don't have.  It didn't work out so well for the aforementioned homeowner, turns out he wanted to get rid of us only to turn around and rent to someone else, and they backed out.  HA-ha! said in my best Nelson-from-the-Simpsons voice.  Maybe not only some synchronicity going on but some karma too ;) .

Today, I had a client come in and randomly hand me a postcard that was the artwork and poetry of a speaker at her church.  This client had never met me before and doesn't know of my affinity for the ocean, or of our trying to conceive.  The card on the back reads:

Mother Ocean
Pull me deep into your womb
O, Ocean
Rock me in your belly
Just for a little while
From your mouth feed me
Food mixed with yours
I will be strong and satisfy
Enfold, and hold me tight
With my mother's voice
Sing a quiet lullabye
Mother Ocean, rock me
I shall sleep a deep sleep
Tuck my spirit in
The rhythms of your heart
Together with mine
My spirit will dance
Mother me softly
O, Ocean
Enfold my soul, I will rest
With the palm of our hands
From my head to my toes
Let my blood flow freely
Make me well
Open Wide Mother Ocean
Release me gently
But not a moment too soon
Restore me Completely
Deep from in your womb
I am whole and ready
Let me out, Mother Ocean
I am strong, and I will live
  -by Senitila McKinley

Winter Life at the Ocean

Commercial crab season opened recently, there's something comforting about seeing the boats out on the horizon as I drive home.  Each night there's at least 3-4 lights I can see in the distance.  I imagine these gruff, hardy, swearing sailors manning their pots as they protect the harbor.  From what, I'm not sure.  Pirates?  Russians?  Global Warming?  I dunno, but I like to romanticize it.

I'm waiting to see a winter storm with waves bashing against the rocks.  Flounder and I went for a walk this morning and saw awesome waves splashing high above the rocks and then rushing back out to crash with an incoming wave.  I'm still loving the coast, just to see the ocean every day is amazing.  I can go to the beach, I can go down to the dock and catch crab for dinner, or I can dig in the sand for clams anytime that I want.  We continue to meet such interesting travelers and locals.  I think the coast attracts a different folk:  friendly, open, liberal and free thinking.  We spent New Year's Eve at a neighbors party with long haired hippies playing the bongos and shaking maracas, it was a blast.

But, the ocean also has it's dark side.  As I walked along the trail this morning a Coast Guard helicopter circled overhead looking for the body of a man who was swept out by the incoming tide while he was searching for sand shrimp.  I often see homeless people sleeping on the beach and this area is suffering from a depressed economy and meth has devastated many local families.  Much of the local money is tourist dependent and this time of year hits hard.  I wish for a prosperous and safe season for our fisherman who are out there on the cold rough sea.  If you're looking for a vacation, come to the coast.  Hotel prices are cheaper out of season, the storms can be awesome and there are floats a plenty to search for on the beach.