A Gift from the Sea

Every year during our sojourn at Cape Cod, I read the same book: A Gift from the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindbergh .

If you've never read it - I highly recommend you take the time - it's very brief.

It's about life and relationships and each year a different passage seems to speak to my soul.

Insert Baywatch theme here.

Happy Tuesday!

We're back!

Oh I have many, many things to say about our little beach vacation, but real life is clamoring all around me this morning.

It is Monday, after all.

So a few photos will have to do - with the hopes that I'll have time for a more thoughtful post later this week.

Happy Monday!

Friday Moment

Friday Moment with Soule Mama again today.

Wee-ooh-wee-ohh

Happy Friday.

Hubs is on vacation for the next 2 weeks so blogging might be a little spotty - fear not, I am alive and well.

A walk in the woods

Around here, we take lots of walks in the woods.

We are blessed with great trails just a stones throw from the house.

We do have to share the woods with the hunters during hunting season - but we haven't gotten shot yet.

Live free or die, man.

First, the men spied a wild animal in the pond. 

Do you see the turtle?

Of course we have to carry protection
the woods can be a dangerous place.

Doin' a little fishin'.

Gasp! Beautiful, no?

Ahhh - wilderness!

Nature

Two nights ago Hubs and I were sitting in the living room watching TV after the kiddos were in bed.

Suddenly, there was a cacophony of bird tweeting in the front yard.

Peep! Peep! Tweet! Chirp!

It seemed like every single bird within a mile radius was really pissed.

This is odd, I thought - as the birds are usually quiet at night.

"Perhaps it's a predator?" says Hiawatha Hubs.

I went to the window to assess the potential threat, and there it was.

Hedwig! 

At first I thought he was a  bunch of dried leaves, until he turned to look at me.

Oblivious to the ruckus he was causing among the wee bird population, this amazing owl just sat there - cool, calm and collected.

He was unperturbed by the flash of my camera - turning his head in that creepy 360 degree owl way to check me out.

It was really freakin' cool.

Jimmy Buffett

I love going to Jimmy Buffett.

I solemnly swear that for every year he comes to my area, I will be there.

I love buying the tickets. Months in advance, the flurry of phone calls and text messages - the plan of attack. Who will be sitting at each computer. Contingency plans.

The jubilation when tickets are obtained. The exorbitant prices lost in the thrill of victory.

Then the slowly building excitement as the big day approaches.

For a month prior to the concert, I listen to nothing but my Buffett collection. (You may recall the videos of the boys signing Buffett in the backseat of the car).

Then, a week or so in advance, the second wave of planning begins.

Who will be bringing what food and beverage. Who will bring the lei's. Who will bring extra toilet paper.

I love driving to the venue.

As we leave NH I scan the highway for cars with shark fins on top. Cars decorated with paint. We wave and are instantly friends.

I love sitting in traffic waiting to be parked at the venue. As you get closer and closer to the stadium - every car has a smiling driver. Every radio blasting Buffett tunes. Even the policemen working traffic duty are friendly.

Once we're parked we descend on our little patch of parking lot like a team of navy seals. Wha-bam! the shade structure is up, the chairs are out, the grill is unloaded.

Oh, that first moment when I sit in my camp chair. You can't understand it unless you've been there.

I make friends with everyone in our row. There is a lovely 60-something couple to my left - he's a superintendent of schools in NH. She's a guidance counselor. They give me child rearing advice.

There's a hilarious group from RI across the way. We instantly bond over water balloons.

I love waiting in line for the port-o-potty. We make friends every time.

The day stretches out and time seems to slow.

I laugh all day.

And then, finally. The show.

When Jimmy takes the stage, I leap out of my seat like a deranged lunatic.

I scream. I dance. I sing at the top of my lungs.

When he plays my favorite song, tears prickle my eyes and I hug my poor husband and serenade him for the whole three minutes.

When it's over we snack in the parking lot and wait for the traffic to thin out. Once we get home I crash immediately in the nearest bed and sleep. Spent.

The next day I am forlorn. How will I ever wait until next year?

Best intentions

I have a wonderful post all about Jimmy Buffett lovingly crafted in my head.

Unfortunately I awoke to poop in the upstairs hallway. So instead of typing, I will be steam cleaning the rug.