Like A Boat Out on the Ocean I'm Rocking You To Sleep

Really? Finally! I’m going to be a Grandma. My first-born is having her first-born. Mark and I have watched with a bit of envy friends who have grandbabies. Mark does love to hold babies. For ages, long after our babies were no longer babies, he would come home from work and tell me “I held a baby today”. Maybe a co-worker brought in a newborn or a customer needed a hand to hold that papoose while they paid their bill. I always found it amusing since, and I don’t think he’d argue this point, he was never REALLY ready for parenthood.

We got married very young - at least I was very young. I wasn’t yet 18, he was 20. We were even required to go, along with my mom, to meet with a counselor at Juvenile Probation to be sure we were aware of what we were getting into. Of course at the time we were SURE we knew. After more than 37 years, I can tell you we didn’t have a clue! It should be noted that we were NOT pregnant at the time - just wonderfully, blissfully head-over-heals in love (and perhaps lust). In fact, it was more than five years before Monica blessed our lives with her arrival and I still remember the deer-in-the-headlights look Mark had on his face when I told him about his impending fatherhood. Even after five years, it was a shock.

Out of fairness, he was not raised with younger siblings nor did he babysit as I had. He did a fine job but I believe he was often overwhelmed, and perhaps still is, though dealing with adult daughters takes a little different skillset and he is probably a little more equipped to deal with grown up issues. But babies....they smell nice, except when they don’t. They love you unconditionally, kinda like a puppy. And best of all, we get a chance at do-overs but DON'T have to be the disciplinarians. I suspect I wasn’t the most patient Mom even though I would have liked to have been. But we did read to our kids. And we made them nap (for their sake and our sanity). And we used a play-pen so they could play and we could get something done.....sometimes the playpen would be in the yard while I gardened. Sometimes Mark’s daddy time involved a baby in a play pen at the wrecking yard while he worked on his race car. Some people see play-pens as baby cages but, when I see parents trying to wrangle a kid, I see a play pen as a little rubber room to keep us all sane. We didn't beat our girls but, in fact, were often asked how often we beat them to make them so good. In hindsight, we did okay and you'll never find those welts!

And now we have a grandbaby on the way and have to, once again, think of baby-proofing. And replacing carpet that just won’t NOT smell. And think about my bowls of seashells. And plants on low tables. And stairs...yikes, I forgot about the stairs! And, what do we want to be called? Granny? No! Nana? Nona? Gramma? I so look forward to sharing tidepools and gardens and chickens with this baby. And sharing smooshy cute, chubby little baby cheeks and (personal fave) baby feet to EVERYONE who follows my Twitter feed and Facebook. I can't wait to do the spoiling and have secrets just between us. I can’t wait until July (or now, June) when Monica and Gabe's little Peanut arrives and I am "Grandma". Let the spoiling begin, huh Papa?

SHE DIDN'T TELL ME THERE WERE ROCKS UNDER THE WAVES

You don't have to know me well to know that a "high surf advisory" or a call to stay off the beach is just taunting me. Hey, I'm careful. And I DON'T go on the jetty when the seas are up....I'm crazy but I'm not stupid.

I took a couple mental-health days this week....they weather was so calm and sunny early in the week I had hoped to get in a few paddles. By the end of the week, however, a storm was brewing so the kayak stayed in dry dock but I still took the opportunity for some beach time.

I drove to Camel Rock when the surf was whomping the rocks from all directions. The sky was blue but the water was churning, wrapping itself around the rocks in torrents. Tide had been high at Moonstone but left no treasures except for evidence of apparently a LOT of little naked crabs running around somewhere. At Power Poles, the foam chased me up the dunes so I chose not to walk far up the beach. Very awesome storm. I won't even mind going back to work tomorrow.

Good Luck Movin' Up cuz I'm Movin' Out

Mark did some serious Dad time this weekend, replacing the timing belt in Monica's car ("so I don't have to tow her home from Seattle....") then with the help of Hope's man, moved the last huge piece of furniture from Hope's room to her new apartment, her huge three-piece desk beast. It's been awhile since Monica moved out at a quarter-past eighteen so the evacuation of another offspring has caught us a wee bit off kilter. Well, unless you count Mark's mom who moved in, moved out and then returned to live in an apartment house across the street but that was more drama than transition....I digress.

When Hope first starting thinking about the possibility of a place of her own, we tried to talk her out of it for a number of reasons not the least of which was the potential for saving money on her part but she having none of it. We just wanted her to be sure about this big step. Rent means obligations but it also means independence. Not that I don't understand the need to be an adult ..... in just a month or two, even my baby will be the age I was when I got married and left home and that is a very sobering thought. We do not have a revolving door at our house. Barring abuse or some other viable reason, once you're out, you're out. The transition from parent to landlord, let alone roommate is virtually impossible. Once a child has been on their own, expecting them to go back to being a child is like shoving them back in the womb....NOT goin'!

I'm excited for Hope in her new place. She planned. She shopped. It was like a bridal shower but without the hassle of a wedding! While I mulled over Gottschalk's leftovers for a bargain on yet another serving platter, she saw bowls and utensils and small appliances to fill her future cupboards. Her 21st birthday came with perfect gifts for the new housekeeper....margarita pitcher and shot glasses. It was exciting for me when she unpacked an item and asked me where it should go. "It should go where YOU want it to go". Huh? After 21 years of doing things in a kitchen that mom set up, she has the chance to consider these things. The perfect drawer for silverware. Shelf paper. A leopard-print broom! And then there's "Mom....how do I hard-boil eggs?". She's asking for recipes because she's actually cooking for herself....YEAH!

But I will miss her. Her recent busy schedule of school and work has kept her gone more than she was home anyway but we knew she was coming home.....eventually. But now I have less laundry and fewer dishes. Sounds good but it takes longer to accumulate enough to run the load. Ditto the dishwasher. What I won't miss is the sound of the morning bicker of two teenagers argue over bathroom schedules in the morning.

And her sister will miss the company. But then, Hope's room was the bigger of the two and Glo has plans. She has raspberry-colored paint chips and, now that the desk is out, she has plans for a mural and pink and.....a whole new world. And I get a dedicated craft room. But, I will have to wait for Sunday dinners to get my dwindling family together to be silly and laugh at inappropriate jokes, shocking the occasional guest. And maybe Mark and I will be able to walk naked through the house on occasion....THERE! THAT should keep the girls from stopping by unannounced!

THERE'S A STORMFRONT COMIN'

... "small craft warnin' on the radio"

(LOOKING NORTH)

As I often do when 'warned' about an impending storm, I headed to the beach. I opted for Bay Street rather than the Breakers (I'm never sure if my little car will make it out from the rain-rutted jetty lot). The wind was kicking up a bit but not at all cold. In fact, at one point I felt a warm southern breeze come up from behind and I turned expecting a bonfire - it felt like the warm air from the dryer vent.

(LOOKING SOUTH)

The waves weren't impressive and seemed way too close together to ride though a few surfers showed up to give it a shot. I watched one give up, no doubt out of boredom. This is an odd storm from the south; I think it's warmer in the driveway than it is in the living room. My Desktop Weather is showing 62˚.... not bad for winter.

I BELIEVE THERE IS A TIME FOR MEDITATION IN CATHEDRALS OF OUR OWN

Yeah, I know I've been a blog-slacker. I've actually had something written but it was a rant and I really hate ranting. I'm saving it till the subject comes up again. I'm sure it will.

I took part in my second Coast Cleanup today. It seems I usually find out about it AFTER the fact so I've begun marking the third Saturday of September on my new calendar. I often collect trash whenever I walk the beach but it's nice to be out there with a group with the same purpose and an official tally sheet. I didn't know where to go to find a group. but found a listing of dumpster sites donated by Les Schwab on the Northcoast Environment Center website. I took a chance and headed to Power Poles on the North Spit and found a crew there, passing out collection bags, tally sheets and rubber gloves.

It always seems to me that the Saturday following the Fourth of July would be a good time for the annual cleaning of the coast since days before and weeks after Independence Day, you will find remains of holiday explosives. I'm guessing, however, that September was chosen for a reason. The seasonal high tides bring on a productive flushing of the ocean, as Mother Nature regurgitates on shore the remnants of the meals she has ingested, thanks to slovenly humans.

Possibly because this beach is more a surf spot and less a party spot, I didn't find a lot of party trash though I talked to one girl who trudged up about the same time I did and her bag most definitely contained cans and bottles. I took advantage of the morning and started my walk at the water line. The tides have been high of late and there were more treasures to be found than normal for that stretch of beach. Of course, I also collected flotsam ... or is it jetsam? Most of what I collected was small so my bag didn't fill quickly. Pieces of nylon rope, a few shotgun shells, cups and straws (I HATE plastic straws). I contented myself knowing that these items would not return to the sea to be eaten by some unsuspecting creature. I actually found quite a lot of rope, including this coil, covered with barnacles from its time in the brine. Likely it had been connected to the remains of a crab pot collected by another team I met. What I didn't find was cigarette butts. Very surprising, though I suppose the aforementioned high tides may have already collected the soggy filters and floated them out on the tide. I'm guessing there has been some churning going on in the depths. A car frame surfaced that I was told shows up when tides are high. It would take a tractor to pull it up since it is upside down and hopefully someone so equipped will do that. Also found, the carcass of a sunfish. I left my lovely toes in the shot to give you an idea of it's size. It was a ways up the beach so the water has been carrying a lot of weight.I was rewarded with some beach treasures. A few nice chunks of agate and jasper. Four sand dollars, intact if not perfect and a wadded up dollar bill. That makes five bucks, right?Following my really long walk on the beach (I always forget to factor in the return trip when I stroll), I headed to the North Country Fair for some sun, a brew, the scent of patchouli and some Christmas shopping. All in all, a perfectly Humboldt day.

Tomorrow? The Bloggers Picnic.

DAY SIX: WE LAYED ON THE BEACH WATCHING THE TIDE

Five Islands Lighthouse; Economy, Nova Scotia.Mark and Glo practicing their rock-skipping skills ... again.

I'm not sure I can do justice to the area we drove on this day.... The weather was warm, maybe a little muggy. We came off of Prince Edward Island and back into New Brunswick, picked up a proper map at the Visitor Center and headed into (or is that on to) Nova Scotia. We wound our way around some back highways with only a few bad turns. Canada, as with Maine, is not big on signage. We would be driving along, lazily watching for a turn off, then realize we had somehow gone too far. We had the GPS with us but, since her charging dock was permanently mounted in Mark's truck, we used her only when necessary to save the battery. We started calling her Victoria after Gloria switched the GPS language to British. She was only of marginal help and would really piss us off when she would be directing us along, we'd turn where we thought we were supposed to, she would pause and in her snippy British tone ....."recalculating".... dammit! We did manage to find our way to the coast and, while eating lunch spotted a sign to a lighthouse so drove out to find yet another tiny navigational lighthouse, one of many we found along the coast. Not fabulous towers but tiny little workhorses, utilized for years by local fisherman. We continued along that coastline, deciding to get as far as we could that night in order to have a more leisurely drive into Yarmouth for the ferry on Saturday. We pulled into tiny Digby late, around ten, and had to make due with a tragically outdated little motel room for the night. Wood-paneling and Herculon furniture - does that conjure up an image for you? Not our favorite night but was marginally better than sleeping in the car. Barely.

I'M MOVIN' OUT

This cartoon has been on my frig as a bit of an inside joke. Mark’s Mom lived with us for awhile after selling her house in Carson City. Mark and I came back from a trip to the east coast to find she had moved out after some unpleasantness with our girls for which they were not responsible. They purposely didn’t tell us until we were home so that we could enjoy the trip.

She’s been up in Washington for almost two years but it appears she's coming back. She will live near us but not with us due to aforementioned unpleasantness. Besides, our weather makes her unhappy. She has health issues caused by smoking. She has financial issues brought on by her steely determination to compensate the tribes for the past, one nickel at a time. I hope that the girls will eventually be able to develop a positive relationship with their one remaining grandparent after their previous falling out. I’m just saying that it would be nice if he got me loaded.