Thursday, September 11, 2014

Being Normal by the Sea

Laying in bed at night, we hear a constant roar that sounds like a strong wind and expect to feel the Airstream rocking, but it is only ocean waves crashing onto shore.  

I often ask Hubs how to relax.  I have never been good at it.  I pace and bluster about (and bug the tar out of Hubs) if I don't have a project to work on or a big scheme to hatch, while he is able to sit motionlessly and it doesn't give him a single moment's pain.  

But by the sea, I am a different person.  I am finally content to sit and watch, or to walk along the sand and hunt for stranded sea creatures.  Unfortunately this campground closes for the winter in just a few days, but I am plotting to chain myself to the picnic table when they ask me to leave.  

Even though the campground is packed with people, it feels like solitude because nothing can be heard over the ocean's roar.  

I have been devouring books whenever I am not engrossed with watching the water.  Over the course of a few days, I have read Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, The Time Machine, Journey to the Center of the Earth, and War of the Worlds, which I made the gross mistake of following with Jane Austin's Northanger Abbey (read the synopsis from wikipedia and you will understand).  From a man running for his life from blood sucking Martians to petticoats.  I now understand why Pride and Prejudice and Zombies came to be.  

And I sat still for all of these books!  The water must be doing me some good.  I only tried to polish the trailer once.  

Wow, that is a lot of talk about me.  Sorry.  But nothing of real excitement has been happening.  

I made friends with most of the people in the campground with dogs, and a few without.  Murray tried to attack a Boxer that was about three times his size, and got humped by a small white terrier named Bentley.  Murray deserved it for all the times he has tormented Otis by doing just that.  

We met some nice people who fed us macaroni and cheese with crab, and then gave us a whole tub of garden tomatoes.  (Hi Pete and Lindsey!)  I cannot tell you how happy I am to have real tomatoes.  Those sallow, jaundiced tomatoes from the grocery are poor imitations of actual tomatoes.

So there you have it.  A story with no beginning, no plot, and no ending.  

Here is a conciliatory picture of a sunset.


  1. I notice your great love of water, both still and running. I highly recommend Norman Maclean's "A River Runs Through It," especially if you're returning to Montana. You can finish it in a couple afternoons and your Hubs should like it too, if you haven't already read it.

    1. Thanks for the recommendation...I liked the movie, so I am sure the book will be better.