Paradise

It’s official, I am insane.

Spending the summer here has been so wonderful that I’ve developed a major blind spot to how completely dreadful winter can be. I am leaning strongly towards staying. How can I not? One can still pump gas before paying! And in this place, trust is so rampant that you can leave your keys in your car with all your possessions still in it while gallivanting around on your bicycle all day, because you know that the boatyard may need the keys to move the car to move a boat. And later you get the ribbing from the one who moved the car who saw your sprout seeds sunning in the front seat. What, doesn’t everyone grow sprouts in their cars? Why not, what’s wrong with them? What do they do when they want a snack, stop at a convenience store and buy junk food? Oh, right, and I’m the weird one.
Here, I am among the best friends a person can ever have. If one is going to be insane, this is the best place to do so, among trusted friends who will stand by me no matter what. As long as I don’t take to running after them with an ax!

And that I can’t promise. If this lease for the cozy cottage goes through, I will need to cut a lot of wood for my wood stove, and might need some volunteers to help!

Winter… I’m still half hoping that we’ll have a good cold snap to snap me out of my delusions, but by then it may be too late. My friends are already considering it a done deal and have mapped out how often I am having parties in my cottage for them! They’ve been deprived ever since I sailed away with the ‘party boat’, and then went and sold it! I soon may be committed, to keep the home fire burning for the duration.

What have I almost done?
Found my home again.

Pausing

I am way too young for this, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference. What does matter is the insanity that began last year. I really don’t mind being alitoff, but it does bother me to know that there are times that I am almost completely, totally off my rocker and that it is a major struggle to control it.

Take this morning, for example. I was unable to find a critical piece of paper despite knowing exactly where I left it, and ended up going nuts and emptying out my car on the side of the road.

The plus side is that my car is once again well organized. The bad thing is that I am now completely discombobulated and out of sorts. And if I don’t try really hard to get a grip, this could last all day. A day which followed the night of howling coyotes, a day that officially began at 4:30 a.m., when the cat awakened me in order to demonstrate his impressive ability to projectile vomit all over the bed. At which point I thought it might be a good idea to get up and do some laundry.

And now, it’s not even mid morning yet. Well I suppose it could be worse. I could be in the path of a hurricane. Literally, that is, instead of creating my own!

Jamming

Given my seeming predilection for all things British, this weekend I was invited to something called a ‘Brit Jam’. I almost didn’t go after learning that this wasn’t an occasion where one would get a chance to physically stuff a few Brits into some small dark hole, or to can them up and spread them on toast later. However, being reassured that there wouldn’t actually be any real, live Englanders at this event, but only UK inanimate objects, I decided to join the gang for the ride. After all, one can’t go sailing all the time. Mainly because one stupidly sold one’s boat and can’t always find a friend to sail with. Anyway, six bikes containing nine people made the trek to the next state, to wander around a green grassy field and stare at an assortment of motorcycles. It was a lovely day, and I learned something by riding the back of a motorcycle that is part of a group. It might be a good idea if everyone riding together had an idea of where we’re headed, because there are an awful lot of cars out there who just have to cram themselves into the middle of the bikes traveling together. I mean, really, if you are that desperate to be part of a biker gang, go get yourself a motorcycle and come apply for membership in our elite clan. Since most of these vehicles were SUVs, of course, that made it hard for the rider(s) now stuck behind it to see where everyone has turned. Still, we managed to arrive at our destination and return all together, except for one lone ranger who decided to leave early and find his own way home.

Due to a technical error that led to the loss of my funny, clever, photos, I had to steal photos from last year’s meet. My apologies for the boringness of these, but I’m tired, biked out, and have to go to work at 5 tomorrow morning.

The pressure is on

I am in love, in love with where I am and with what I am doing. I love it! The recent sailing trip with a good friend on her Flicka 20, where we saw all conditions, from speeding downwind under drifter, flat calm, bashing to weather, getting rained on, getting sunburned, losing the engine, sailing to anchor, all in the same day, made my summer. Not that each day hasn’t been perfect since I arrived.

Unfortunately, I have this severe allergy, and too soon that season will be upon us. That terrible time of year, when leaves turn brown and temps drop below 80. I am allergic to cold, and will have to flee to warmer climes. I don’t wanna go. But I know only too well what happens after that leaf browning thing. Everything is gray and then white stuff falls out of the sky. I can’t wear my sandals, unless I want my toes to turn black and fall off. I can’t sail unless the boat is on skates. The abundant pool of money freezes over and poverty reigns until half a year later when it all thaws out again.

Then why in the heck has the thought even crossed my mind to remain here for the winter??? What am I, even more insane and incapable of rational thought than I imagined?? What on earth would make me even consider such a crazy thing? Is it the allure of wonderful friends? Is it the possibility of that warm cozy cottage heated with a wood stove, complete with rapid internet? Is it being weary of drifting, of having no real place to call my own? Or am I simply completely bonkers?

Somebody please whack me with an oar until I get this silly idea out of my head. I don’t want to have to go shopping for winter clothes ever again, let alone wear the darn things!

Maybe I shouldn't be worrying about things when it's only August, but one must be prepared. It could start snowing at any moment!

Ifs

“If you love something let it go free. If it doesn't come back, you never had it. If it comes back, love it forever.” What if it comes back totally different from when you let it go and you discover that you really can’t stand it now? What if, while it was gone, you decided that you hadn’t really liked it anyway, and are sorry to see it return? What if you do want it back, and it wants to come back, but it doesn’t have the instincts of a homing pigeon and simply can’t find its way? What if…