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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?

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.

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.

 

The Gambler

9 Sep

Somethings keep remaining funny long after your life should’ve outgrown them. 

  • Watching people trip and fall
  • Friends dropping ice cream cones, tacos, or other cherished food items
  • Listening to someone talk when they have no idea they have food on their face or something in their hair
  • Making someone pull your finger

Now, I know I should be an adult and not chuckle about childish things, but they still crack me up. What’s a girl to do?

I made a friend pull my finger last night, and afterwards said “woof, that’s a relief. That one was a total Gambler.”

He didn’t understand what I meant while I was dying of laughter.

“A Gambler?”

“Oh yes, Bekah’s dad came up with it while we were in college and there was a sharting incident. You know, ‘you’ve got to know when to hold ’em.

Luckily, he was as childishly amused as I was at that.

Viva grown up life!

Nope Nope Nope

8 Sep

It rained last night and a lovely dense fog sat on the island all morning. When I got home from work I realized a screen had fallen from my window so my room was full of flies and mosquitos. Great.

I went to tidy up and get a fly swatter. Then I saw the new arrival. An unwanted roommate. 

Now a spider is a valuable asset in biting black fly and mosquito country, but I severely dislike them. Like a lot. I’ve been pinned in terror to the other side of my room. My housemate won’t even come in, it’s so creepy.

I swear I can hear it whispering my name. 

Nope. I have two options now. Move, or sleep with one eye open. Moving seems easier. I didn’t like any of this stuff anyhow.

A note from the boat

2 Sep

​”It was a grey morning the sun wanted to come out.

Lindsay wasn’t worried about the sun that morning. She had found something she had been searching for, or something she had forgotten about. 

In her warm clammy hands she had found a seal; a seal of approval? 

Things were going to be okay.  

Lindsay had found hope. 

Was it cliche? Was it sad? Was it anger?

It didn’t matter.

The furry little cozy seal let her know that through those clouds the sun would shine so strong it would dry up any tears that would roll down her beautiful face. She could rest her head on a cloud of daydreams and twirl her strawberry blonde hair and remember all the fun and future fun…

…everything is going to be okay.

Love, Mario”

Dear Jim

23 Aug

Dear Jim,

Life got too much so I peaced out and went fishing for a while. I feel like you’d appreciate my logic. Mackarel is delicious, just to let you know. Cod is nice as well.

Was antsy to get home a few days ago but when I went to do anything about it, I ended up booking a ticket (one way) to Mexico and deciding to let the cards fall where they may. I miss Frank something awful but I feel like you and he will understand. I’m going on another walkabout. I’ll come back better and the person I and you and he like me to be. 

The ocean is lovely and fog and rain and waves and storms and humidity can’t beat me. I grow stronger.

I had squash last night and thought of you and your lovely garden and your lovely Elisa (best cook in the world) and I smiled in my heart. I miss you, buddy, but I’m doing it. I’m going to keep on.

I wish you could write back, I wish I could hear your voice, but is it crazy that I do hear your voice and know what you would likely write and that is enough for me these days? I think I’m coming to terms.

Until the day, 

Your Lins, avid fisherperson and wandering soul

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