Like Waves on the Ocean

It was only a month ago that I posted (again) about how my dad and his four brothers, all WWII vets, were still hanging around on this earth. That all has changed now that my dad's brother, Glenn, has passed on. He was 92.

I don't know how many pregnancies my grandmother experienced. I believe that some ended in stillbirths. Glenn was the first to survive childbirth - the first of five, all boys. Besides those five boys, my grandmother raised two step-sons. What a woman!!!

Early in my life, Glenn's family lived in the same nearby town as my grandmother, so we were able to spend a good amount of time with them. But they moved to Illinois in the mid-60s and I may have only seen Glenn two times after that.

I can honestly say that I never knew the man. We had absolutely no relationship. My only memories of him are from a very early age and involve him talking. A lot. Since I was a kid at the time, I never hung around enough to hear what all of the blathering was about.

The talking gene is very prevalent and strong on my father's side of my family of birth. I didn't seem to inherit it, though. I think that if it's within me, I turned it off in response to all of the talk around me. I remember thinking that if I didn't say anything or ask any questions, I wouldn't encourage more yakking.

That never worked.

Goodbye, Uncle Glenn. I know that you were more than the limited memories I have. I'm sorry that I never got to know you. Sweet voyages to you.

Poor Air Quality

I'm home.

The faux skunk (a.k.a. Buddha, the dog) is sitting on the floor next to me.

I AM NOT ready to come back from vacation!!!

I just got done giving Buddha what I am guessing is his 4th bath in the last week. Getting him into the tub is like trying to drag a mule somewhere where he has no intention of going. Sill, I managed to succeed all by myself!

This morning, my mom told me what Housesitter Son hasn't told me yet - that Buddha got skunked AGAIN a couple of days ago.

Twice in one week.

This smell is the gift that keeps on giving.

I'm wondering where the little black-and-white-striped stinkin' sprayer animal is living and I'm a little intimidated at the thought of trying to find out.

I could possibly live with the smell of eau de skunk for as long as necessary (not enjoying it, but there ARE worse things) but I have a gathering scheduled to take place here this coming weekend.

Thinking about skunks, the song below comes to mind - even though our little friend is not dead in the middle of the road.

Protecting Playful Piping Plovers

The Piping Plover is a threatened species. A part of Duxbury Beach is closed off in order to protect these birds.

Mr. Carol For Peace & I arrived on the beach yesterday morning and as we walked on the bay side, we saw a mom Plover and her three darling little babies, about three inches tall, running around on the sand. They had strayed away from their protected area - there's always a renegade in the bunch, isn't there? Mom P didn't like the fact that we were close to her babies, so she did her best to distract us. Out of respect for the family's privacy, we turned back.

Later, I, in my big, black hat, and Mr. CFP in his non-hat, stood with about 100 others at the beach as a part of the Hands Across the Sand world-wide gathering to make a statement regarding our need for clean energy.




We didn't change the world through this action, but it was a joy to take a moment to join together with people who care.

The Further Adventures

So.

I went to the dermatologist two days before I left to come to the Cape. Being of the fair type, I was lucky enough to warrant the removal of FIVE little "blemishes" on my face. The doctor told me that I would be fine in time for FAMILY FOTOS 7 days later, which has now become tomorrow. She was wrong. I look like I fell on my face. For a week I've been doing my best at being humble. But today I bought some kind of make-up cover-up stuff and, well, I wish that I would have done it a long time ago. From a distance, I almost look like myself.

Oh the things we do...

So.

I opened up Facebook two days ago, only to read the top message, which was posted by Mr. Son House-sitter. It said, and I quote:

Parents dog got sprayed by a skunk at 230 in the morning. The smell is still hanging around, since I unwittingly let him in the house. Never really smelled it that intensely before. I hope febreeze works as well as I hear (for the house, not the dog).

Lovely.

WHO LETS THEIR DOG OUT AT 2:30 IN THE MORNING???

Good luck with it all Mr. Son...


So.

Today Mr. CfP and I ventured out to Provincetown, but on the way, we did some investigating of the Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary.

Mr. Turtle at the Wildlife Sanctuary

In Provincetown, Massachusetts
The gaudiest buildings in town. I had to go get me some Shop Therapy (whatever that is).

The anniversary celebrations begin tomorrow. (Up to now, we've just been practicing.)

You Say It's Your Birthday!

Below are all of the birthday presents that I received as a result of my quest to know what brings you joy and can't be taken away, except maybe by death.

Thank you for sharing the joy! There are no right or wrong, good or bad answers to my question. The beauty is in the sharing of our uniqueness.

I found that I could relate to every one of the answers I received. Maybe you will, too. Even with our uniqueness, there is a thread that ties us all together.

I hope that the answers below give you pause to consider the beauty of joy in all of our lives.

And I hope you don't go blind trying to read the words below. I put this together before we left for the east coast and it is what it is.

Again, thank you, from the bottom of my pea-pickin' heart!











A late entry:
My source of joy, which could be taken from me, if they ever decide that coffee is 100% bad for you, or if I can no longer afford fresh coffee beans...a simple daily ritual that brings me joy: getting up before my husband, or the "kids" (when they're sleeping under the same roof), grinding some French roast beans, then brewing them slowly. I stand at the kitchen window, looking out at the foothills, inhaling what to me is one of the most comforting aromas--fresh dark coffee. The first sip is the best. I often have it in an ugly mug that is of sentimental value to me. Even if this ritual were taken from me, I'd find something else. It's the repetition of simple familiar actions--pulling the grinder off the top shelf, getting out the bag of beans, opening it to have a whiff, setting the grinder to the correct intensity, pouring in the sweet water from our own well, waiting for the magic to happen...it's the ritual that matters. Before the others are up, the house is quiet, and it's my quiet time to indulge.

So Happy Together

We had barely arrived in the town where we will be staying this week when Mr. CFP and I came upon this big dark gray thing on the road. It took a few seconds to register in my brain that it was a HUGE snapping turtle. How do you write the sound of the squealing of brakes applied with urgency? I say it something like ErrrrErrrrErrrr! But I don't know how to write it. We pulled over and checked out this mini-dinosaur-looking creature.

Later, we took our first beach walk/hat test. The breeze kept trying to steal my hat.

No schedule for today yet. After all, it's vacation time!

Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there!

Lord, I Was Born a Travel'in (Wo)Man

Here I am. On the East Coast. Where the air is heavy, where I actually SWEAT in the shade, and where I hear the sounds of birds whose names I don't know. We haven't landed on the Cape yet, but we're on our way.

I miss my Buddha dog. He always knows what those big blue things mean - the things that his mom and dad get out of the garage and fill full of their stuff before THEY LEAVE HIM. As we walk out the door and tell him we'll be gone awhile, but we'll be back, as we tell him that his favorite step-brother will be there with him, he barely makes eye contact and he pouts to make us feel as guilty as possible. He is in good hands, though. My favorite man, next to Mr. CFP, will be staying there with him.

After we arrived last night, I got to meet my newest niece, an almost two-year-old who already knows a thing or two about a thing or two. When it was time for her to leave, she wasn't at a point where she would give me a hug yet, but I did get a high five (completely her idea). I hope that I don't fall in love. If I fall in love with a young'un, it's too hard to leave because I miss being around to see all the growing and changing. But then again, it does a heart good to keep falling in love. I think I'll risk it.

I am loved.

The night before we left, my two favoritest young people took us out to dinner.

Hands Across the Sand

From the website:

Hands Across the Sand is a movement made of people of all walks of life and crosses political affiliations. This movement is not about politics; it is about protection of our coastal economies, oceans, marine wildlife, and fishing industry. Let us share our knowledge, energies and passion for protecting all of the above from the devastating effects of oil drilling.

• Go to your beach on June 26 at 11 AM in your time zone.
• Form lines in the sand and at 12:00, join hands.

The image is powerful, the message is simple. NO to Offshore Oil Drilling, YES to Clean Energy.

The image is powerful, the message is simple. NO to Offshore Oil Drilling, YES to Clean Energy.

I will actually be on a beach on the East Coast on June 26th and will be standing hand in hand with others in solidarity with the statement that we want no more offshore drilling.

Check out the map on the website to find a location near you. There are actions taking place along oceans, rivers, and lakes all around the world.

It doesn't escape my awareness that I will be standing on a beach on the Atlantic coast only because I flew in a plane that is most likely fueled by a product of offshore drilling. And I'm typing on a computer that is using electricity that is created by... well, I don't even know.

Offer Ends Today!

If you haven't taken the opportunity to be impermanently recorded for all posterity, today's the day. Act now; offer ends today at 6:00 p.m., Mountain Time (around 1:00 a.m., UK time, I believe).

I'm looking for joy! I'm absorbing all of the joy I can find in this lead-up to the solstice (which is also the anniversary of my birth, which took place at a time when yes, there was television, but the view was all black and white).

If you aren't aware of my request for joy, please click here and then, if you are just oozing with possibilities, please share them with me. It's a gift. To yourself. And to me. And to all of my 21,546 readers. Ha!

On June 21st, I will be sharing all of the joy with anyone who happens upon this blog. At that time, I'll be in far off lands, celebratin', but I'll still have a computer and I'll still be thinkin' of you!

As of now, my daughter is in town (talk about joy!) and we've been doing girly things. She holds my hand and MAKES me walk through stores. Stores! Not my favorite environments, unless they are full of fresh vegetables. But these stores have been full of clothes. I have finally found myself the perfect Derby hat!


Not for Derby goin', but for standing in the beatin' down, Colorado sun every Saturday. And also for takin' to the far off land where I hear there are beaches. A girl has to have somethin' to protect her fair skin from the elements.

And my daughter and I have been sharing thoughts and dreams that could not be shared in such ways until now. Some things have to wait until a certain amount of life experience has occurred. She and I are barely mother and daughter now. She is a capable woman who is my friend. How lucky I am!

Now I've come full circle: joy, stores, hats, daughters, dreams, and more joy, for all of the above fills me with such happiness.

Impermanent Joy #4

Family.

They may make us crazy sometimes, but they are a gift.


Family photo taken at my daughter's wedding in 2001. Ex-in-laws, current in-laws, ex-husband, current husband, son, daughter and many more.

Impermanent: One divorce has occurred since the photo was taken. One person has passed on since then. Three of the young'uns have graduated from high school. I've gotten old.

Nothing appears to ever stay the same.

The thread that runs through it all is love.