Fog

I love fog.

Growing up, I would be lying in bed in the summer and hear the foghorn early in the morning (it was summer, so I wanted to get up super early).  I knew what the pond would look like, across the street from me.  That's the pond there, picture taken from across the street from my house.  

Then I'd go into the bathroom, and look out the window there.  I could see the standpipe, sometimes, with the misty early morning sun.  The green trees between us, and the marsh in the back yard.  The window open, I could smell the fog and the summer.  

I can hear a foghorn where we live now, but faintly.  The one from "home" is the one seared into my brain, and whenever I hear one, I think of summer mornings, waiting for the fog to burn off to go to the beach, or hopping in a boat to row on the pond or go for sailing lessons.

Man, childhood is really something you want to wrap a blanket around and protect at all costs, isn't it?  No one better mess with my memories :-)

Views of a family packing

Well, travelling. We leave on the 9:30 ferry, for a 2:30 flight, then a 7:30 flight. Phew. We have our limit of baggage, that's for sure!!



See that on top of the car? That's two more duffel bags.




My stepfather, who lives up the road, has a habit of stripping our place clean of any sweets once we leave. So Atreus left this message on the board of the kitchen...about 2 steps from the cookie jar.

Fears

Right now, we're dealing with the LittleBoy's fears. Somehow, someway, he has gotten it into his head that deer are evil. That they will do something bad, either to him or us, and perhaps even come in the house. I don't know how this started (maybe on a recent hike, or maybe when a friend saw some deer by our garage), but I honestly have no idea how to deal with it. He's terrified to be alone at night or during the day, to the point that he won't go up to his room to change into his bathing suit.

It's horribly frustrating, since I remember my parent's reactions to my fears and I don't want to repeat that with him. But at the same time, it's. a. DEER. Cute, almost cuddly, big doe eyed deer. I know, I know, it's not rational...I am terrified of spiders, and what's the worst that one will do to me (although the one I saw yesterday, it was the size of a f'ing tarantula, it was huge. Atreus had to take it outside for me, and I thought he'd need a bucket instead of a glass)? But deer run the hell away from you!

Right now, we're trying something that a friend recommended. I told him that we sprayed the whole perimeter of the lawn and house with deer repellent spray, that they don't like the smell and will stay away. I need to pick up some essential oil (something good and strong...clary sage?) when we take Miss MW off-island tomorrow to show her the towns nearby, and I can put that in a sprayer with water and spray it around. That's my last chance idea...my parents have said they'll take him on a walk through their woods (until recently populated by deer, but hunting on the island have lowered the numbers) to try to remove that fear. At the same time, I'd rather they didn't, since mom is not the most sympathetic about things (even tho she has a deathly fear of snakes, to the point where you cannot say the word near her or she might faint).

Ah. Parenthood. /groan

She's here

Just so you all know, MW has arrived safely.

Now, to crack open the tequila.......

Our images of deities

When at a friend's house for dinner last week (and the eventual cookout and making of s'mores), the skies finally cleared and the sun came out for a little bit. The sunshine on the leaves was one of those spiritual moments. The friend, A, was born a Muslim but is now a member of the Unitarian church, and has married a Jewish man, so she has a good knowledge of religions of the world.

As the 6 of us were standing there, admiring the leaves, A said "Forget the dead guy on a stick...that's my God right there."

Perfect summing up of how most of my friends believe.

The next day or so

I'm shopping.  Why is this blog-worthy?  Cause of the lengths I have to go to!

I'm leaving the house at about 1:45, hoping to make the 2:30 ferry.  It's Sunday, so people will be heading back to their jobs, etc, from a bit of a weekend away, so it's busy on Sunday afternoons on the ferry.  More than likely, I'll be on the 3:30 or 4:30 (that's the last ferry for the day, so I hope I'm on it!).

I'll then drive for about an hour and a half, depending on traffic.  Get to "The Big City".  Check into motel.  Hop over to the favorite stores, and do what I can tonight.  Back to motel, and cheapo dinner from chain restaurant next to it.  While I'm asleep, our friend and her mother will arrive at the motel as well, and fall asleep (after spending the weekend in NYC).  

Tomorrow morning...more shopping! Grab the friend and her mom,  hit up the other stores that I will miss tonight, as well as get groceries for the next week or so.  Leave The Big City by 1:30 (that guarantees that we'll be on the 5p ferry, which we were lucky enough to get a reservation for).  

Not a huge amount of time, considering what I'm shopping for!  But it shall be done.  Oh, did I mention that the 7 month old will be with me (since he's still nursing, he's attached to my hip)?  That lends an air of danger and fun to the party!  

If you live on an island with ferry service, you learn how to shop, that's for sure.  There are people here who have bumper stickers (it's the States!  Everyone has one!  We have two, one of which is this one!) that say "I'm Ferry Stressed".  Sums it up right there.

Hubs and Little Boy will stay at the house, having a boy's night in with a bit of junk food and video games.

So, if any of you want to text me, my Irish mobile will be working while I'm down there (WHOO HOO!).  The phone doesn't work on the island cause there's just no coverage here, unless you're on the beach.  Which, let's face it, is a bad place for a mobile.

4th of July

We all know what the Americans are like. And 4th of July is the big summer holiday. So why not have a parade?



No parade is complete without a fire truck!



Yes, the woman above has balls of yarn for her Princess Leia hair.



The inevitable backup.



Some fancy cars...



The kiddies get in on the fun as well.



Ooooo, livestock! (Note the man carrying the bucket and shovel walking behind...)



And let's end it all with a biiiiig truck.

The parade is for a small town, and most of the people in the parade either squirt water guns at the spectators, or throw out candy. When we got back in our car, we had bits of chocolate thrown through the window (it's incredibly safe here. We don't lock the doors to the car or the house, we leave keys in the ignition, and there isn't even a full time police officer out here).

I'd like to point out, the rest of the day was enjoyed with a barbeque at home and lots of beer and lemonade.

Furthering a thought

Frank's post reminded me of a comment made on the flight to the US. Well, it was after we had landed, and everyone was standing, awkwardly, waiting for the doors to open (which took inordinately long). Now, remember that we flew Aer Lingus, direct from Dublin to Boston.

Discussion in the row behind us (and we're all standing up now...)

Woman 1: "I wanted to exercise more, but there was just no time."

Woman 2: "Oh I know what you mean. And the food! Irish women just don't care about how they look, do they? They eat all this fatty food!"

W1: "I can't wait to get back and have some salads, you know?"

W2: "And the drinking! I mean, Irish women just drink like crazy, don't they. They drink so much! They eat tons of food and drink a huge amount."

I was, literally gobsmacked. I wanted to turn to her, put on my thickest (Southside) accent and say something like "You really should watch what you say on an IRISH airline, especially when you're returning to the fattest country in the world."

And the second woman? Who the heck forced the fish and chips down her gob?! If I remember right, every freaking menu has a salad on it! And the salads in Ireland are much better than the ones here, let me tell you...

No, I was a chicken, I didn't want to start anything, but jjjjjjjjjjeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Road Trip: A Few Side Glances

On the road for a bit ... at the airport, waiting outside, there's a group of two girls in their mid-20s, both gorgeous...until they pulled out their packs of smokes and lit up. Ten years ago I wouldn't have come close to thinking this.

In the same scene, a guy stands there talking to his friend while taking a drag. He then talks after exhaling in a puff, but somehow there's still more. He does two long, full sentences and wafts of smoke come out from between his lips.

Guy gets onto the plane and reaches down, massages his genitals for more than a moment, and then does a weird cycle of unzipping and rezipping his trousers. While walking down the aisle to his seat. shudder don't wanna sit too far back near him...

Kids behind us are the worst little shits, kicking seats, whining, fighting, the works. And their New York-accent parents could give a shit.

The plane lands and a group of four or five, each about 20 years of age, applaud when the first cries out, "Hooray, we're back in America!" "Whoop, whoop!" joins the clapping which actually spreads over other parts of the plane. What the fuck, were these people held hostage? I didn't realize Ireland was such a downer of a place to use for a trip...cough...

Doors at the airport open, and we're hit by the sweltering heat (30 Celsius?) and humidity enough to make us stop moving for a moment, convinced we'll not be getting enough oxygen. But then we all grin at the warmth we've been longing for at home in Ireland for the last month or longer. The people walking next to us are convinced we're all fucking nuts.

Quickly adjusting to the time difference. Yay!

Phew

Up at dawn to finish packing.

Get to the airport 2 hours early.

6 hour flight (with a 5 year old and a 6 month old).

5 hour (total, stopped for food on the way) drive.

25 minute water taxi.

10 minute drive (again).

Waking up in the house, instead of a hotel, priceless.

Now, if the rain would stop.....

(location, Maine)

The oddities of human memory

I'm working away, letting iTunes play what it will. Up comes "If This Is It" by Huey Lewis, and I'm pulled back in time. I was twelve years old, listening to the Sports album, my mind buried in the depths of Stephen King's Pet Sematary.

Since I've been reading King's books from age 10 (gasp), I don't think I was very sensitive to horror novels or movies by then. But it must be a little odd that I remember quite so much detail: the dead cat comes back to visit after being buried in a spooky cemetery, and he needs the bits of green garbage bag picked out of his whiskers---the very same garbage bag used to hold his stiffening corpse only the day before.

Perfectly normal to remember, right?

Sunshine on my shoulders...

...makes me happy....

Nothing beats a chilled bottle of white wine, a friend or two, and a table with lots of (welcoming) empty chairs around it on a stunning early summer evening. Kick it up a notch, have the table in your front garden, and have your neighbours stop by to poach a bit of the vino.

Good times, good times.