Friday Beach Report

 Fog.

Pelicans.

Pirates.

And in other news, I have not fucked up a single thing yet today. Yesterday there was more bad phone juju. I went off for my full day (as in 8 hours--not 24)  off from caregiving, and left my phone at home. I hurried back to get it and then went back to the charming little spot on the water I'd almost gotten to for breakfast. It was closed.

But my life is ship-shape (ahem.) If that's the ship that I think it is, there's a piece of my past on it. I believe it's this very same boat as this one:

That's daughter C, second from right. The Someone and I were on that boat (he took the wonderful photo) a million years ago. And if you're a longtime reader of this blog, you know that the marriage ran itself on the rocks not too long after that, and that this blog had a rather charming and funny name shortly thereafter, which due to a restraining order, I stopped using. The Someone is referred to only as the Someone due to the same restraining order. And my, what a lifetime ago that seems. No matter how hard the caregiving situation is here in Margaritaville, I think I'd keel over (ahem, ahem) if I ever again had to return to the no-man's land (that might be a seafaring term too) of life with a husband who shunned me.

Friday Morning Beach Report---a Day Late

fishing together in the fog

I took this picture on my early morning beach walk yesterday, but later got caught up in the caregiver vortex and didn't post it. The woman's pink sweatshirt caught my eye, and then I noticed the cane next to her chair. One of these folks made quite a bit of effort to get to the water's edge. It's a long expanse of sand from the street to the water, and yesterday the sand was loose and deep, making for quite the trudge.

She made it. They both made it. Hope they caught some fish.

Saturday Morning Beach Report

Even before I was fully awake this morning, I was aware of the fog horn. I find comfort in knowing that sailors are being warned away from the rocks.

Life is usually more like this.

All morning long the foghorn continued, its calls like giant sighs. Let's not run this thing on the rocks, I thought every time I heard it.