My favorite word. Except on long drives is water. I’ve taken more pics of the stuff than anything else while on this adventure.
And then from the ferry to Seattle:
I love when you can taste the water in the air. Sea breeze saltiness. Ummm. Water.
Category: Happiness
Not a Grey’s Anatomy myth!
Got to take a ferry to Seattle. Space Needle! No, I didn’t get to go in. But I enjoyed the view!
I’ll share the beach walk for tomorrow as well, there’s a secret to keep until then.
And it had two rooms, one with a king size bed, the other had two queens. Two TVs we didn’t use.
The pool was only 5 feet deep. Even as short as it was it took me a few to enjoy laps. The jacuzzi made travel weary bones happy.
Summer used to be my favorite season. To sum it up: swimming. I would be in the water 24/7 if I could. From the time of my first lesson, I think I was 11 or 12, I knew my inner spirit was a mermaid.
I challenged myself to swim from one end of the pool to the other in one breath.
Though I took the diving challenges, low board or high, I hated the time it took me out of the water. Although overcoming my fear of heights was tough, once mastered, I gave it up to be in the pool.
In seventh grade I was able to take lifesaving and be a part of a swim team. I didn’t get to finish the course. Nor did I get to continue the competitions. I suffered a severe case of swimmer’s ear that put me to bed the rest of the summer. It wasn’t the earache that caused the most pain. I cried daily for what I was missing. I’ve since learned how to keep my ears dry between swims.
Summer also meant camp and camping. Every year my folks took the family on 3-week vacations. To save money it was always camping. Our favorite system was to go to Sequoia, Yosemite, and Bass Lake. Swimming in the lakes made me happy.
As a teen, Sunshine Superman played as we had many trips to the beach.
I found I loved the beach as much as the pool. Salt water. Sand. Bodysurfing. It became my favorite spot. But laps are too long in the ocean! And swimming under water wasn’t as much fun.
Living in the small community with no pools has been hard. Beaches are too far away. It is Lake County but we’ve yet to see the lakes. And they seem more for fishing than swimming. The one I plan to investigate this summer is actually a reservoir. But we’re told there are leeches. Ugh!
Another sad issue with summer now is the fires. Breathing becomes an issue.
But this summer is starting with the possibility of a really fun road trip. And maybe a swim? Our fears are fires and or snow. I know! But tonight we have to drip. A freeze. June!!!
But I plan on challenging summer this year. Please bring water and fresh air!
Remember way back when I mentioned I might start a podcast? I can’t remember what I thought I’d call it, but a new title comes to mind as I started day # 3 of piano reawakening. “Warts and All”
We are so used to seeing the end result of endless practice. That makes sitting in front or with your art impossible. “I’ll never be that good. Why try?” So many negative things we tell ourselves, and because of that, we will never know what enjoyment we might bring ourselves or others while waiting for perfection. Follow your passions. God, muses, whatever you may call it, gets the credit for your curiosity drive. Do we dare let our defeatism lead the way? So I’m taking you on the ride. I took piano lessons since I was 5. I rebelled my way out around 16. After marriage at 21, I had to wait a while to get my old piano. My second son was teething when I got my piano back. I was rusty but could still enjoy the below pieces and much more, nearly totally memorized. I would play so hyperfocused that that piano had teething marks as the poor baby begged for my attention. So, I had to keep the practice to light bits.
When we moved to my first desert, Antelope Valley, the house was so small I had to keep the piano in a chicken coop. It was an old upright grand. It looked quite at home there. I would get up and go out in my heavy coat and gloves, scarf, and cap. As I did the scales and warm-ups, layers were released. I was starting to fall in love with my kidnapper. Stockholm Syndrome? There was a lot of angst from the psychological damage that practicing piano imposed on me.
A few decades later, after letting myself enjoy other music, singing, playing the recorder, and playing the ukulele, I felt like I wanted to try to bring it all back. Three days ago, I figured out a time of the day I could schedule my piano time. My first day was a lot of cleaning my baby. We get a lot of dust out here. And the darned mice. Lots of cleaning. But hey, that old piano in the chicken coop was pretty bad, too. And I love this piano. How I got it is another story. So cleaning it was, is now, a work of love. I did start playing that day for a few minutes. It went well. I kept it to 15 minutes. For some reason, yesterday’s practice made me want to cry. Today I decided to start recording myself and sharing the mess and progress with you. You are not required to listen to these as if they were elevator music. It is merely how it is when you try.
Enough of music. I’ll share the uke and recorder progress later.
Passion is imperfect.
It’s true for me.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: ends with “grate/great.” Use one or bonus points if you use them both. Enjoy!
Isn’t it weird that the word that starts that whole, deep emotion of grateful has to do with open screen to hold logs for the fireplace or something to grate cheese?
And yet the even larger word makes me think of Tony the Tiger
Spelled so differently, meaning thankful or largely wonderful. Words!
The stream goes sideways here.
When my oldest was a toddler, we had to walk up the block to pick up a few groceries. That five minute walk took nearly an hour. Toddlers can be infuriatingly curious.
Anyway, he saw these grates at the bottom of buildings. They looked like windows for small people. He would peek in. Then turn around and tell me about it. It took all my will-power to not roll on the sidewalk laughing. His forehead had the rusty crisscross of the grate from leaning his face on it.
I’m so grateful for this great memory.
Per Linda:
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “express.” Use it as a noun, verb, adverb, or adjective. Use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!
Express yourself, they say. But there are rules. Proper etiquette, grammar, clothing, hair. Now it must fit with the current trend or political leaning. Religion, or not. What you eat, or don’t.
Express yourself, in the moment, the you, you are then. Be kind but be you. Not who you think others want you to be. And be kind to you, too.
The original prompts for this month can be found here: http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com
But I find the page and process a bit much this year. So I’ve gone rogue. A renegade of the blogosphere.
But the beauty at the end of the last false spring day brings near tears to my eyes. See those dark clouds on the horizon? That’s the beginning of a few more days of blizzardy, blustery cold. We might even get snow. If so I may try to go out and throw a ball or two. But I’ll be dreaming about scenes like this.
Bringing beach images begets being at the beach. Bottom line.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “plain/plane.” Use one, use ’em both, bonus points if you get ’em both in your post. Have fun!
Well, I sat on this all day. All I could think of was flying to Wisconsin to see my daughter and her new family. I love flying in planes. Lately the news makes it scary. But letting go of the fear, I love a window seat. I love watching the world get tiny. Tiny cars, then tiny buildings, tiny mountains.
Where I was raised hay was made into rectangular cubes. But as we flew over plains and fields we saw huge cylinders. The first time I saw that I was flying with my dad to see my Aunt and Uncle. When we landed we asked about the cylinders. They told us it was how ranchers fixed their hay.
Now I live where those cylinders gather in fields at the end of the block.
It isn’t just from a plane that the world seems small.
I wanted to fit in getting a cup of plain Greek yogurt but it’s too late for that.
Darswords 
You must be logged in to post a comment.