You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
I love big cities, even have a certificate in Urban Studies, but can’t afford them, not for long.
Internet, at least, allows me some important virtual connections that way, not that it includes strolling into ethnic restaurants or great museums.
On the other hand, I’m living in a place others consider ideal for a vacation.
And for me, it’s an ideal writer’s retreat or de facto arts colony.
The ability to walk to so much of what I want in daily life is a huge consideration.
With a woman (maybe twenty, long brown hair, a red sweater) again in the sun, playful, morning, but she must go off perhaps to be executed that same day, shot dead.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I knew it would cast a curse over us. We wouldn’t be able to do anything without thinking of that. I just wanted us to be US.”
So later she’s acquitted or pardoned.
Apartment complex in the woods, kissing with a married friend and her sister-in-law, both staying at my place.
Later, I return home, the door’s wide open (how obviously symbolic these can be!), and everything’s gone, especially my computer.
Well, there were all of those years between the divorce and a second marriage.
Or should I say “bay”? My weekend at the Common Ground Fair was followed by the better part of the week cruising Penobscot Bay in a historic schooner. My first time overnight in a ship, at that.
I’m just beginning to digest the experience, but it was my second digital detox within a month – a healthy opportunity, to my mind. I’m sure you’ll be reading a full report sometime in the future here.
At least my body’s home now.
Meeting a dark-haired girl at an Orthodox affair, there’s mutual attraction in our conversation, and soon I’m at her house, or more accurately, her parents’. Her mother rather encourages our interaction, and soon we’re dating or some such, despite the age difference. I make clear the limits in our relationship, but the companionship is enjoyable. At least she’s getting out into circulation.
Second part, leaving a church event, I’m swept away into a car with her family. Crushed into the back seat with her mother on my right, a brother on my left and another, facing me, in front. She’s to my far left. At one point, the driver, presumably her father, shifts from driving forward to extended reverse – and then quite fast – leaving the streets for rolling meadows and the like. It’s all exhilarating, we’re laughing wildly, happily – so this is a warm family and I’m part of it.
Somehow, it’s all back in my high-school years.
Marrying one of several sisters, but don’t know until the ceremony which one. Am pleased, though: attractive, tender, smart. Hardest part is going to be telling my parents, after the fact. Especially since we haven’t known each other long or well.
How old are you in your dreams?
It’s a big deal, I’m told, and will bring a flock of bigwigs to our tiny but fair city. We got a taste of U.S. Navy presence over July 4th, but this is more uppity.
A state-of-the-art trimaran hulled stealth vessel of war, the USS Augusta (LCS-34), will ceremonially go into service. I guess it’s like a grand opening celebration.
Since the independence-class littoral combat ship is named for the city in Maine, the second vessel to carry that distinction, the Navy wanted to uphold a tradition of performing the ritual within the state being honored.
The event’s not to be confused with the christening, which happened with a shattering champagne bottle across the bow or some equivalent in December last year in Mobile, Alabama. Nor is it to be confused with the launching, May 23 last year.
So instead of witnessing the infusion of three thousand guests to Eastport for the day, I’ll be out on the waters of Penobscot Bay, two-plus hours to our west, sailing and sleeping in the oldest active two-masted schooner. Definitely more my speed.
Given the two first-time experiences before me, I think I’ve made the right choice, not that the other was an option at the time I made my reservation.
Isn’t that so emblematic of life?
I’m having trouble with my cell phone, an online functioning or access problem, Google maybe. Our son-in-law offers to help, works with it, patiently, for ages … tells me something about encryption. It’s somehow comforting, even if he does hand it back to me with a shrug. Don’t know if he’s fixed it or not.
In real life, it’s usually my wife or elder daughter who sets me straight on high-tech.
When I was rescheduled to the night shift, I wasn’t home for as many meals together, for one thing. Or evenings.
It took a toll on the relationship, especially when she was working a day shift.
Not since remarrying 23 years ago, curiously, even though we have taken some delightful extended weekends here in New England but not yet beyond.
The closest I’ve come to solo is the week of the annual sessions of New England Yearly Meeting of Friends, held on college campuses in early August. But there, the emphasis has been on doing Quaker business and spiritual renewal together.
Maybe that’s one reason I’m so excited by my upcoming windjammer adventure, whatever the weather.
Better yet, it’s following on one of our family weekends away, the Common Ground Fair in Unity, Maine. Even if I expect to be spending part of that manning the Quaker booth there.
And better yet, I’ll be with a dear friend of my retirement years – somebody who grew up on the waters, unlike me.
So what’s your idea of a “vacation” Even in a shoulder season, where we are now?
Looking down a wooded, snowy slope to a narrow, deep river – a steady stream/parade of sharks, tuna – big fish, almost minke size, all swimming in one direction silently, presumably upstream. Why? And why do I presume that? Me, watching – going off to get the kid, too.
Happy feeling … awe and mystery.
Revisiting an earlier dream site, I’m viewing whales from land as they frolic in the harbor beneath us.
I’ve since relocated to a small town where whales are, in fact, seen from the land. Just not many or often.
Later, my dreams returning to Ohio: Yellow Springs/Glen Helen (which now requires admission – imagine, trying to pay an admission fee in or even for a dream). Here the once-golden goddess becomes quite agitated and defensive when I mention my familiarity with whales.
Why is she even there?
For the past few weeks, I’ve been pretty much out of action. Good thing I schedule most of the Barn releases well in advance.
The latest sequence of setbacks started when I knocked a martini glass over, splashing my laptop keyboard, while talking to my wife. And here I’ve been the one to scold others about drinking coffee right over the computers. Ah!
Many of the keys became irreparably stuck or functionless, so it was time to move on to a new machine.
Things were going well with moving my files over from Carbonite until Microsoft’s One Drive got in the way. I have way too many photos for the MS service unless I opt to pay, which I prefer not to do. It’s a Big Brother Is Watching You sort of thing. We’ve been warned.
I wound up taking both machines to a highly recommended computer guy an hour down the road.
Just kept telling myself I wasn’t screwed, not between that and the fact that my beloved elder stepdaughter had given me an external hard drive for one Christmas and I had all but maybe my last two months’ worth of new writing and photos backed up there.
Alas, I’ve also been vigilant about erasing photos from my cell phone gallery and my Google photos. Get the picture? It’s just too easy to get bogged down in all the clutter otherwise.
Being without a computer is an exercise of its own these days. I’m far from the point of using my phone for most of my online browsing and emailing, and I’m definitely not drafting blog posts much less a novel there.
That said, enough of the whining. I’m back.
~*~
Just in time to keep a nervous eye on Hurricane Lee, which may have Eastport as a target. We’d rather Lee go out to sea, well to the east of Nova Scotia to our east. We’ll see.
~*~
The lead headline in the Bangor Daily News the other day touted another development:
The first ship arrives tomorrow, ahead of the autumn foliage.
Quite simply, Eastport is being discovered as a unspoiled destination, in contrast to crowded Bar Harbor or the state’s biggest city, Portland.
Here’s hoping the rogue hurricane season doesn’t disrupt this trend.
~*~
Here’s also hoping for fine conditions at the end of the month and the schooner cruise on my schedule.
In the meantime, there’s a lot of writing I need to attend to, not all of it mine.
Best wishes to you all.
Jnana's Red Barn 