Monday, Remembering

I love traveling, but isn't home nice, too?

Here are photos! One of my boy and his beloved. And then, my boy's beloved. Finally, one of my boy, my brother-in-law, and my beloved. Unfortunately, since we were on a ferry, I didn't manage to get our daughter-in-law into the same pic with the fellas. If only I remembered to force folks to pose!

While we were on this island, I kept trying to concentrate on really remembering--being in the moment--because I get so few with the boy and his beloved, but at the same time, I was mauled by the idea muse. (Muses are generally a bit of a frou frou concept for me. I'm far too pragmatic to partake, but it was like being bombarded.)

I guess concentrating on being in the moment worked because I can turn over the seconds of that day like sparkly gems--sun glinting on water, the scent of salt in the air, the crunch of gravel beneath our feet as we climbed toward the island road. The amazing perfume of antique roses that grew along the road, and my daughter-in-law talking about the roses her mother kept. Mine did, too.

Finally, the laughter. My husband and his brother sound so much the same. My son's grin before he laughs. He's always taken that slow approach to laughing. It makes the unexpected burst that much more contagious.

I loved that day with my family, but I also won't soon forget my hunger for something to write on. I leave purses anywhere they go with me, so normally, I just try not to take one. But, you know, that far from home, you need stuff--a camera--I did have. Wallet--yup--managed to keep a grip on that. All in a suitcase-sized bag. That was a mistake. Who needs a big, old pink suitcase when she's climbing rock cliffs? I just hope there were no other writers, gathering character quirks whilst I lugged that thing around as if it were attached with industrial-strength glue.

And the one thing I didn't take? Paper and pen.

But isn't the family beautiful? And did you notice the sky and water? Maybe sometimes a writer has to put down the paper and pen (or forget to stash some in the pink, lug-me-anwhere bag) and do some living with the family under sky on water.

Back Home

My Internet service was not so much interrupted as abandoned. We went to visit our son and his sweet wife--and it was--amazing, actually. We get to see them so seldom that I feel lucky to have spent time with them, but I'm so sad to say goodbye to my boy and his awfully welcoming beloved. (We couldn't manage to choose a date to go, and then we headed there without much warning. Who wouldn't want three in-laws to pop up with a "Here we come!")

Along the way, we visited Gettysburg, which I'd never seen before and am still absorbing. We rode a ferry and walked in freezing ocean water and ate lovely shellfish. Our boy's beloved said, "Why don't we cook the lobster in wine?" And she added tasty things. I'm surprised their whole neighborhood didn't join us! (Imagine thinking up a recipe on the fly!)

The only bad moment in the trip was watching them get smaller and smaller on that sidewalk. Kinda breaks my heart to see it in my mind again.

Yesterday we drove home, only to be stopped by a very kind policeman who just asked us to slow down as we were about two miles from home--after driving for about twenty hours.

So--I may go back to bed, but I'll definitely post pictures when I unpack the USB cord.

Internet Service...

Interrupted until Saturday.

Will post again then.

The Pool is Hiding Shadows

I love to swim. I don't love exercise, but swimming isn't exercising. Swimming is gliding through the water as if you were flying, and oh--look--it's an hour later and exercise time is over. I love swimming.

But the heat has done something to the pool. It's so murky, monsters could be hiding down there in the shadows. We've tried so many chemicals, I'd be afraid to get in even if the water cleared up. But we must find a way to clear it up. Shadows, murk, dangerous levels of scary murk and shadow-inducing whatever--I must swim.

Not really. I'm scared of germs, and you know there must be germs in that murk.

Personally, I believe our crazy neighbors--you know the ones we had to lock out of the pool after they broke in--have somehow been tossing murk bombs over the locked fence!

See the problem? I'm not paranoid when I swim.

Visit Julie's Blog!

Julie Cohen's having a blog party. You should visit for fun and prizes--and just because she's a great writer with a cool, redesigned site!

Don't forget to read excerpts!

For a Cold Day at the Beach

I'm not going to whine about the heat again, but I remember this day. Magical day, with foam swirling at our feet--the beloved's teeth chattering--the girl saying, "Let's walk a little farther," and the birds calling as they fluttered and tumbled down the hard sand.

I'm gonna write a beach scene. Set in winter. But I must be careful not to wish summer away. That would be crazy.

I'd love to be interesting every day

But I'm not.

Days like this, I think blogging should not be an every-day effort because I tend to run out, but, as with my other writing, if I stop, I find starting again difficult.

Not to mention the part where blogging requires the blogger to assume even subconsciously that she has something interesting to say.

In a high school English class, I had to keep a journal. It was a writing-intensive class. We could write about anything. My school was set up in pods, with short screens separating the classrooms. We grew used to hearing another class going next door--to ignoring the class next door--but one day, I was so dry as far as a journal entry, I started listening to the class next door, where they were dissecting "The Constant Lover" by Sir John Suckling.

My first thought was "They're not discussing Henry VIII, then." And I managed a whole journal entry on history and people who make an unintentional name for themselves. You just have to latch on to inspiration and ride it till it throws you off--possibly in disgust!

But the poem still makes me laugh. Take a read if you have time. ;-) Thank goodness Sir John Suckling is interesting!