A reason to throw a party… and to have it catered

17 Nov

​It was surprisingly warm last night in the Airstream. Low sixties, maybe high fifties. I’ve been sleeping in a wool poncho I got in Mexico, so that might very well have been helping as well. Before dawn, a crazy wind kicked in and I had to get up and secure some things, because even with windows and door shut, if not latched properly they rattle like hell. There are plenty of breezes that get through the seals. When I got back in bed Frank crawled under the blanket and poncho with me. It got cold, but not til the sun came up. Then it kept getting colder.

I woke up when the wind literally shook me out of bed. Frank had also skooched me to the edge so that spill was partially his fault too. Falling in the Airstream sucks. You hit everything. Like I could’ve literally landed my head in the oven. The camper was swaying so much because of the deflated tire, the uneven parking space, and the blasted super wind cutting down the mountain at 70mph. I could hear things outside snapping and falling and breaking. Desert debri stings.

I grew up in the south. I know you don’t stay in a trailer in a wind storm. So Frank and I put Cheese-cat outside (he has a safe spot) and went to the grocery store and laundromat. The awful wind wouldn’t stop and it was honestly pissing me off, coupled with a handful of folks being extremely deficient at their jobs, and Frank being a total jerk about some cheese snacks I had in my purse, I was having a truly awful day. I had to fight just to shut doors, keep groceries in their bags, my laundry off the parking lot, and it kept getting colder.

I haven’t yet unpacked any of my bags except a weekend bag from a month ago, because there is nowhere for me to put everything right now. I’m crowded. So at the laundromat I was that human (we’ve all seen them) who literally took off her coat, her sweater, and her socks in public by the washer and threw them all in, then hung out for an hour in only dress pants and a wife beater, doing a crossword by a glass wall on the busiest street in town. My eyes felt like they did when I had pink eye. Was the wind giving me pink eye? The idea pissed me off. I was stewing in crankiness. Not my best showing.

Some rando came over and offered to get me stoned. Seriously. I was that disheveled and unhappy. He buggered off and then people mostly left me alone. But then after an extremely chilly patio beer with Mr. Frank and a pretty sunset we decided to get a cheap hotel room and a warm bath. We shared some junk food and I changed my poncho and now all I felt was tired. 

Oh, and pure joy. Because on the way to get junk food I saw this beauty and had to do a double take.

That’s right. Waffle House has a food truck. So life headed in at least one right direction today. Kaboom, y’all… now what sort of party should I get catered?

My dog, the Franklin

13 Nov

People love their dogs. let them have it. dogs are the best . 

But my dog, Mr. Frank, takes the cake . He literally just got mad at air, barked at it, then took a nap. He’s my soulmate. I wish my life was so taken care of that I never worried. I also wish that I owned the world and nothing mattered.

 I wish I could bark at the air just because I was pissed off, but people, humans, aren’t supposed to do that. I admire my little guy. He’s expressive. Some may view that as a fault. But he is HIM. Power to him.

Now he and I will take a fabulous nap. and it’s only fabulous because he’s there. Mull that around in your noggins, because I’ll be sleeping peacefully with the love of my life.

You can’t get there from here

2 Oct

It’s like the island gets smaller each day. I hope I’m not finally losing my last few marbles. What shall I do then?

There are/were three boats. The boats come from three ports. The one to Port Clyde is the mailboat, and that’s the one I generally take. Exiting the Laura B or Elizabeth Ann, you’re then stuck in Port Clyde, which is also super isolated. It’s like escape is incredibly difficult. 

Eh, I’ll figure it out. The time to plot is now and time is running out. Soon there’ll only be one boat and eventually it’ll only come once a week. Nope. Not spending the winter on this island. It’s cold enough now.

The beginning of the end

2 Oct

The morning is gray and cold when I wake up to the door opening. Yesterday was gray and cold as well. I imagine tomorrow to be much the same. With the wind and the cold settling into the door frames and floorboards my door has been swinging open and shut all night. No matter, it comes with the weather. 

The clock says 4:15. I reach for my extra blanket and roll over.

I hear Andrew stirring across the hall, though I haven’t heard his alarm. The shower turns on. It is now 6:11. We will be a little late this morning. I hit snooze at 6:15 and enjoy my extra five minutes. The morning is cold and my bed is warm. 

I hear Emily and realize I must get up. Have to set up breakfast. I tumble up the stairs and laugh at us. Today we are ‘island chic’- unkempt hair tumbling at crazy angles, sleep in our eyes, tousled clothing. We finish setting up and wash our faces, comb our hair, straighten out as the coffee kicks in. 

One week left on the island. I remind myself of this as I assist guests and sweep the floor and listen to nonsensical babble over the backdrop of banjo music at the highest possible volume playing in the kitchen. You haven’t really witnessed a true amateur showing until you’ve watched grown adults having difficulties navigating a gratis breakfast buffet, so we have to keep dining room music a little detached to keep them focused. I smile, because it is a bit funny. Humanity is hilarious, if shambly, first thing in the morning. 

I look outside, watching a friend fishing on the dock. The sky hasn’t changed. It could be 4:15am, 4:15pm, or any other time. It’s an odd feeling. I let it sweep over me. It is groundhog day. It is my first day, my last day, my best day, my worst. It is 1912, 1948, 1988, 2016, 2031.

Time speeds up and slows down. I am just swept along in the ride.

Such is life on the island. fleeting.

Amidst in the Mist

26 Sep

My mom is visiting.

My friend is leaving. 

On sad circumstances which is the worst. He’s had his moments where he really impressed me. Freaking each other out about our haunted house, fishing, smoking in the attic, gossiping like children… too many to list. He has no idea but just a week earlier we made a playlist together. It was first thing in the morning, the hours before we really converse with each other. He played a song he knew I liked. He wasn’t playing it for me. He was just jamming to wake up. It made my mind kick into gear as well. It made me think of another song. Next time I passed by his station he had another great song going. It made me think of one as well. I started jotting them down. 

I call the playlist Wednesday Morning and it is perfect for solo dance parties (or parties with other people), car trips, putting your make up on before work, boat rides, or even first thing in the morning. 

Thank you, Clay. Every one can make a memory. I have memories AND a concrete reminder of our fun together. 

I prefer it played on shuffle:

  • Into the Mirror – Minus the Bear
  • Let it Happen – Tame Impala
  • Summertime Sadness – Lana del Rey
  • Sun in the Morning – Future Islands
  • Little Wing – Jimi Hendrix
  • The Less I Know the Better – Tame Impala
  • Home – Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
  • Lower the Heavens – the Donkeys
  • Paper Thin Walls – Modest Mouse
  • It’s Summertime – The Flaming Lips
  • House of the rising Sun – the Animals 
  • Flying pizza. – Lousy Robot
  • Fleetwood Mac – Gypsy
  • Doves (Vince Clark Remix) – Future Islands
  • Have You Ever Seen the Rain? – Creedence Clearwater Revival
  • A Dream of You and Me – Future Islands
  • Heart Cooks Brain – Modest Mouse
  • Soul Meets Body – Death Cab for Cutie
  • Buenas Tardes Amigo – Ween

Mackarel Day

16 Sep

Yesterday there was a mackarel fishing contest. I didn’t win. But I participated, and it was fun. 

A friend won second place, however, and gave me a wonderful bottle of prosecco as a consolation prize. I guess I am still winning.

The days of summer are coming to a close, fall is opening up, and my time on the island is growing shorter. 

I guess it’s time I thought about the next adventure…

Monhegan Solitude

11 Sep

I’ve been reading the Graphic Canon series edited by Russ Kick. It is an awesome compilation of excerpts of graphic adaptations of classic literature. I enjoy it very much.

I’ve worked my way from the Epic of Gilgamesh to the Popol Vuh (Maya creation story), Greek plays, Shakespeare, Milton… and this rainy, blustery, cold evening I find myself at Keats.

It’s like he visited Monhegan himself. Couldn’t have summed it up better. Thanks to Hunt Emerson for this lovely interpretation.

 

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