What conclusions might you draw from seeing a post that has almost no text? Well, you might hope that I had a photographic awakening. A day of inspired genius. And now I just want to give away all my Ocean space to the resulting gallery of images. Or, you might conclude that I want to indicate a more peaceful day. Words aren't needed. We can just all take deep breaths together... then exhale. In... Out...
Or, if you know me well (on Ocean or otherwise), you'll think that I've had one of those days. I didn't plan out my post early enough and by the time I sat down to write it, the sun had long set and the cheepers needed my attention and there was still this accommodation I had to find or else...
Yes, it was like that. The day was too full.
It began early, with an Ed call. He didn't want to wake his sailor friends and so we whispered back and forth for a few minutes. It was almost like breakfast together, only without the food.
Then came the usual farmette chores...
Only today I was in a hurry. I needed to fix a problem with my getaway weekend (which comes not now, but next week). I'd found a cheap airfare. I purchased it. I was happy. And then I couldn't find a place to stay. For 48 hours I have been searching my brains out for a place to stay. It's August. It's a weekend. That says it all, no?
And so my day looks like this:
Finish call with Ed. Look for place to stay. Oh darn it. Cheepers and Stop Sign are meowing and chirping. Must attend to them. As long as I'm out, let me do a half-assed clipping of the garden.
Oh but it does still look so nice!
Go back inside, find place to stay, fire off email, get a "sorry, all booked" response, fire off another.
Eat breakfast. Boom-beedee-boom! Done!
Head out to meet lovely friend for coffee. It's such a rare treat, as she is not in town for long.
After, I hurry back to the farmhouse, check on places to stay, get discouraging emails, read horrible reviews of dirt, noise, odors, bleh! This wont do.
Go back downtown, pick up Mom for a shopping trip to Trader Joe's.
And after it's almost time to pick up Snowdrop. But wait, I have only until 6 pm to cancel a place that I'm sure should be cancelled (for my place to stay). How am I going to swing that if I'm with Snowdrop this afternoon? I take out my phone, cancel everything that I've booked thus far (except the airfare, which is nonrefundable), pick up the sweet child and bring her to the farmette. Where she helps me pick ripe tomatoes.
All hell explodes as a storm passes through.
We play. She wants a change of clothing. Who knows why. Still, it's lovely to be thinking about her rather than about my weekend getaway, which so far has a flight to nowhere.
Dance. There's always dance.
She does flipsee-doo-dahs with her dancing Rosie doll.
What's that? Don't ask. If you're my grandchild, you'll eventually know about flipsee-doo-dahs and loop-dee-loops and yeppers peppers and nopers popers.
Yeah!
The little one leaves. I do a quick dash to the farmers market where I gift a favorite vendor with lots and lots of eggs (the girls are producing way too many for us), pick up some corn, and come home. But I don't eat dinner. I look for a place to stay.
Do you see where this day went?
And here's an ironic twist: when at last I sit down to do an Ocean post, with the intention of saying nothing (see first paragraphs above), I usually end up saying way too much.
Toward the end of the day, I take a plunge: I write to a place that has an Air BnB type accommodation. It's brand new and has no reviews. It could be so awful that no self respecting person would ever set foot there. Or it could be grand. I give them my credit card number, hit "send" and now I really do exhale. What will be will be. Time for me to eat supper: corn and cheeper eggs of course. Exhale. What a day!
Or, if you know me well (on Ocean or otherwise), you'll think that I've had one of those days. I didn't plan out my post early enough and by the time I sat down to write it, the sun had long set and the cheepers needed my attention and there was still this accommodation I had to find or else...
Yes, it was like that. The day was too full.
It began early, with an Ed call. He didn't want to wake his sailor friends and so we whispered back and forth for a few minutes. It was almost like breakfast together, only without the food.
Then came the usual farmette chores...
Only today I was in a hurry. I needed to fix a problem with my getaway weekend (which comes not now, but next week). I'd found a cheap airfare. I purchased it. I was happy. And then I couldn't find a place to stay. For 48 hours I have been searching my brains out for a place to stay. It's August. It's a weekend. That says it all, no?
And so my day looks like this:
Finish call with Ed. Look for place to stay. Oh darn it. Cheepers and Stop Sign are meowing and chirping. Must attend to them. As long as I'm out, let me do a half-assed clipping of the garden.
Oh but it does still look so nice!
Go back inside, find place to stay, fire off email, get a "sorry, all booked" response, fire off another.
Eat breakfast. Boom-beedee-boom! Done!
Head out to meet lovely friend for coffee. It's such a rare treat, as she is not in town for long.
After, I hurry back to the farmhouse, check on places to stay, get discouraging emails, read horrible reviews of dirt, noise, odors, bleh! This wont do.
Go back downtown, pick up Mom for a shopping trip to Trader Joe's.
And after it's almost time to pick up Snowdrop. But wait, I have only until 6 pm to cancel a place that I'm sure should be cancelled (for my place to stay). How am I going to swing that if I'm with Snowdrop this afternoon? I take out my phone, cancel everything that I've booked thus far (except the airfare, which is nonrefundable), pick up the sweet child and bring her to the farmette. Where she helps me pick ripe tomatoes.
All hell explodes as a storm passes through.
We play. She wants a change of clothing. Who knows why. Still, it's lovely to be thinking about her rather than about my weekend getaway, which so far has a flight to nowhere.
Dance. There's always dance.
She does flipsee-doo-dahs with her dancing Rosie doll.
What's that? Don't ask. If you're my grandchild, you'll eventually know about flipsee-doo-dahs and loop-dee-loops and yeppers peppers and nopers popers.
Yeah!
The little one leaves. I do a quick dash to the farmers market where I gift a favorite vendor with lots and lots of eggs (the girls are producing way too many for us), pick up some corn, and come home. But I don't eat dinner. I look for a place to stay.
Do you see where this day went?
And here's an ironic twist: when at last I sit down to do an Ocean post, with the intention of saying nothing (see first paragraphs above), I usually end up saying way too much.
Toward the end of the day, I take a plunge: I write to a place that has an Air BnB type accommodation. It's brand new and has no reviews. It could be so awful that no self respecting person would ever set foot there. Or it could be grand. I give them my credit card number, hit "send" and now I really do exhale. What will be will be. Time for me to eat supper: corn and cheeper eggs of course. Exhale. What a day!
