The Tale of the Abandoned Blog

Oh, dear.  I so intended to keep up this blog, but life has a funny way of taking us away from that which we want to do whilst we attend to that which we must do.  And thus it is August 4th; six months and three days since my last entry.  In my defense, I had the dickens of a time getting back here as I switched browsers from the ever buggy Firefox to the more stable Safari.

So let's just time-warp and fast forward through those six months and begin anew, shall we?

I'm still unpacking, sorting laundry and editing pictures from our Naushon 2011 vacation with the Control Group.  The week went distressingly fast; I've discovered that as I get older I seem to be picking up velocity along with the obligatory wrinkles.

Calf Pasture House, as seen from my canoe on Lackey's Bay.

This being our 21st year together, we've picked up a few pointers along the way.

#1.  Bring everything you think you will need, and then some, with you.  Nobody wants to go off-island to have to purchase some forgotten ingredient or necessity in Woods Hole, or worse yet, Falmouth.

#2.  The pick-up trucks hauling our food, equipment and luggage should pull up to the porch area facing Lackey's Bay, and not the 'back' of the house facing the tennis courts.  In this manner, knees are preserved with the relative paucity of steps required to move all the crap into the house.  Also, it's less sweaty.

#3.  Beds should be made as soon as the perishables and food items have been put away.  You will not have the energy to make your bed after "First Night Syndrome".  You will be lucky to even find your bed after "First Night Syndrome".

#4.  All activities except for the above shall be suspended until the mandatory "First Jump" into Lackey's Bay.  No exceptions.

From Left:  Alys, Linna, Kate, Kirsten, Devon

Settling in to "Island Mode" seems to take no time at all now.  Gone is the full day wasted as we try to adjust to having nothing in particular to do and all day to do it.  Everything can not be accomplished in one day, either - so relax, breathe in that wonderfully fresh, marginally salty sea air and pour yourself an icy cold drink as you meander out onto the porch to park your older-but-wiser buttocks on the sofa or chair or hammock, and enjoy the moment.  Welcome home.