The Escape Claws

It goes like this. The rescue dog is minding her own damn business, but happens to walk near, past or just this side of Los Angeles where a family cat is reclining.
Then there's ss, sss, SSS, HHISSSSSSS. A lot of prancing and dancing and bobbing and weaving and ... we really should put the dog in boxing gloves cause I have never seen moves quite like this except on a boxer.

Rescue Dog Neela

Then there's a lot of yelling and pulling and separating and everyone going to their respective corners for canine timeout. I'd like to say this is a rare occurrence, but it's not.

Since moving to the island, this is a typical day in pet paradise. Maybe it's because we have taken so long in setting up the lower level "granny flat" for our commercial fishing, young adult son who is the owner of the rescue dog.

Certainly living even temporarily in close quarters with 3 cats and 2 dogs, each who spans opposite ends of the age range, can put a damper on individual freedom. But recently it has escalated into all-out animal guerrilla (sorry about the pun) warfare around here.

Door in Question

So it's no surprise that in the middle of a dark and stormy night over the weekend, when the back door blew open from a 40 mph gust, two of the three cats, Hermione and Diesel, decided to throw caution to the wind (again, sorry with the pun), and took advantage of an open door to temporary freedom.

Problem was, the door banged shut.

Diesel

By 4 am, Ms. Diesel (I know, don't ask), was found hunkered down by the lower level doors, sopping wet and raising a ruckus. But Hermione.... not a sign.

Morning dawned and still no Hermione.
Lunch went by, an event rarely missed by this feline, and no Hermione.
Out went our son and Rescue Dog, out into the adjoining wildlife preserve, down the Brightwood Trail to the harborside to sniff out the MIA enemy.

Brightwood Trail

Still no sign.

It was then it dawned on us that Hermione might have invoked the Escape Claws - that little-known and rare family pet document, that says that now that we were living in one place, and the cats ever decided that they could not take the rambunctious newcomer, they had the right to choose outdoor living.

We were stunned, but noted that Hermione, of all cats, was the most independent, and if she felt strongly about not subjecting herself to constant irritation and living on tabletops, then so be it.

Hans Christian Anderson once penned, "Just living is not enough," said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower."

Resigned, we vowed to abide by our little butterfly of a feline Hermione's decision, and sadly stopped looking.

I was lying on my bed well into the evening that night reading, when I heard a rustle, and my son plopped a very happy-looking Hermione down beside me. He had heard a persistent mewling at his apartment door and went to investigate.

I could say that it was her decision to come back. I could also say that I prayed, used reiki and called in all my angelic friends for a little persuasive action.

I could say we all learned a lesson in relationships and freedom. Living here on the island, you can sense a different attitude towards things like this. People are more readily able to allow freedoms you would seldom encounter in Urban American Living.

But in the end, I think, our little butterfly found a loophole in her Escape Claws.

Have a good one. :)

Side-Road Living

It's exactly 5.6 miles from our drive to the Stop & Shop.

To get there you have to drive past an alpaca farm, stop at the only blinker light on the island, pass a rural funeral home and the small regional high school.
The only thing you miss on this simulated life path is the hospital.
On the 5.6-mile run, you get it all - birth, road stops, school, life, and the hereafter.

Not that that's important. What's important is that you get to "see" so much life along the roads in-between.

Lagoon

On this particular road, I can see on winter days, the Lagoon just barely peeking through the woods, sparkling water, deep, deep blue. And I can see the alpacas grazing in the meadow on sunny afternoons.

At the crossroads blinker, I can hear, in the close distance, whether my husband's plane is making final approach, and how much time I have till he hits the front sidewalk of the tiny airport entrance.

And, when I pass the local garden center, I breathe in the heady, earthy smells of spring and mulch and the hint of hope bursting forth.

alpaca farm

Past the funeral home is a long stand of pine and shrub oak that line the way of the Wildlife Preserve. If I have an extra 5, which I usually do, I can turn down any side road on the left after that, and make my way to Sengekontacket Pond and the Boulevard that runs along the inlet's edge.

Sengekontacket

Bumping my way past the Rod & Gun Club, past the marshes teaming with unseen life, I end up at the public landing - a small sandy parking lot dedicated to those out for an afternoon on the water.

Turning off and parking as close to the lapping waves as I can, I shut down the motor to sit for a moment. I listen to the gulls, and I remember my late brother, whose favorite spot this was to kayak.

Then back to the main road and on with my errand of the day.

What I've found is, here on the island no matter where you go or what you are doing, it's about connection. Living here allows you to stop the rush a little, pay attention to the side roads and attractions life offers up.

I think that you can have this living on the Mainland, but it's much harder - the temptations, the in-your-face, over-the-top distraction, the lure to do just one more thing.

As a slogan on a greeting card I saw recently proclaims, "Some of the best living, the most valuable living, is done on the side roads."

Here's to side-road living. :)

Second Bridge Diving*

Have a good one.


(This is for my friend Sue, who is, about now, really missing the Vineyard. See you soon!)


* from Life magazine

Dance of the Tuna Casserole, Oo Oo-Oo, Oo Oo-Oo (Recipe Included!)

If you know my mom, don't tell her this.
Don't tell her that I have been trying for days to deliver a piece of my made-by-scratch, old-fashioned tuna noodle casserole.
It has become quite a joke.
Well I made it on a Monday.
And I tried to deliver it on Tuesday.
But the heat went out, and the van line called with damage claims on the move, and it rained hard all day. And Mom went to the PA Club Lenten Fish dinner. So back it went into the frig.
Well I had it on the counter Wednesday.
Then hubby called; flight delays, bad weather, air traffic stops. To and fro to the airport. Weekly family dinner at 5:30. Back into the frig.
In the bag with Hawaii booty for Mom Thursday morning.
The heating guy came and went. Came and went again. The basement needed moving into the pod.
Back it went into the frig.
When it finally made it to Mom's Thursday night just in expiration date time.
I said Bye, Bye, Baby.
And ate the last piece at home for myself.

photo by Sarah

Have a good one. :)


PS:
My Very Old-fashioned Tuna Casserole Recipe
1. 4 Cups pasta - 8 oz. dry cooked - I use corkscrew type
2. 2 Cups sauce

- you need 4 to 8 oz. grated cheese - I use combo of sharp/med cheddar
-melt around 4 tablespoons butter in saucepan.
- add flour, 1/4 cup into saucepan and stir.
-add a little salt, around 1 tsp. or less, a little cayenne to taste.
- stir constantly over medium high heat till it begins to darken a little, a couple of minutes.
-add in 2 cups of milk and stir like the wind over medium heat til thick and bubbly, 5 minutes or a little less.
-turn off heat, add cheese and stir in to melt.
-taste and adjust seasonings.

3. 2 cups tuna - 2 cans are plenty, I think. On another day I might try 1-2 cups of cubed chicken.
4. 2 cups of vegetables - I use frozen peas, or peas and carrots. Might interesting to try some other veggie like asparagus or something.
5.Mix everything together. Turn into a 3-4 qt. buttered casserole dish.
6.Top with crunchy, buttery topping. I crushed potato chips over the top, and drizzled a little butter over that. Hey, this isn't a low-cal dish! This is Midwest Comfort Food, for gosh sake.
7.Bake 400 degree oven, until top is browned, about 30 minutes.
8.Serve and enjoy.

It Has Come to This: The POD Man Cometh

We all knew it was too good. 
Despite heroic efforts of epic proportions to stem the tide of - let's face it - Stuff.
I tried my best, I really did. But what I didn't know then, while packing, was that of course, living here in Paradise aka the Island does not include stuff.
Not old stuff.
Not almost new stuff.
Not expensive stuff.
Or cheap stuff.
Nope. None of the above.
Not any of your stuff from your former life at all, really.
Heady stuff, that.

I feel like I am in the witness protection program.
"No m'am, you can't take it with you. It won't do you any good there."
What we need, I discovered was new stuff, for a different life.
An island life.
What kind of stuff would that be, you ask?
 Well, let's see.

Industrial size flashlights to see where we are going at night on paths to and from the car, to and from the woods for dog constitutionals, to and from the bars - parking near the bars in winter is difficult. Lots of escapism here lol. And there are Environmental Lighting Rules.

Quest Box Great Rock Bight (photo by Stacy)

A good pair of boots for really anywhere, but especially for nature walks and quests. My nieces and cousin like to do quests - geo-caching (www.questmv.org). We are partial to Muck Boots brand. There's also Bogs boots. Either are good. Seriously, folks, if you have to walk the dog in all kinds of weather, the clog or short bootie style is for you.

Clothes?
In winter, it's layer, layer, layer, so: Carhartt, carhartt, carhartt.
Best damn pants for work and dump runs. Yes, if you need to get rid of anything larger than Bruno's Garbage is willing to take on their weekly pick-up, it goes the town dump. In our village, there's also town pick-up, where you need stickers for the garbage bags - but that's one more thing I don't want on my to-do list. I have heard tell that occasionally, a 5 dollar bill has been taped to the bag when the household ran out of stickers late at night and the garbage HAD to go out. But, I think that it wouldn't fly for me to be doing that every other week, since I am prone to not remembering to get stickers. We are Team Bruno's here.
In summertime, you don't need much except a good pair of sandals and a fishing rod. (We will save the Islander Dress Code for another post.)

4-wheel drive for the beach and the snow. Not too many people can drive on the beach, and the best on-shore fishing is where cars can't go. Oversand driving permit needed. Rust optional.

 No room for extra Christmas decorations. No room for fancy glassware, or serving dishes, or the mounds of momentos of former lives, handed down and kept out of family angst.

No extra linens, just the flannels M'am. Cotton jersey in the summer. Like sleeping in your t-shirts.
No extra blankets, all-season down comforters work winter and summer.

Not that I jettisoned everything from the mainland life. No, far from it. But we have gotten down to brass tacks. And that brings me to the present dilemma. Where to put stuff while we go through stuff to keep stuff we actually can use here on the Island.
It has come to this: the POD Man Cometh.
Yes, we now have on loan, a POD storage container, from which to stage the bricks and bracks of the former life. To deal with what Goes and what Stays.
Thanks, Mr. POD man. I have exactly 12 weeks, or 84 days, or 2,016 hours to get a Life. :)

Have a good one.

Oh My GAWD where is the END?

Did you know that yesterday on the island we had snow? Yes, that's what I said. Snow.
What a hell of a note.
You drag yourself through the first throes of winter in December.
You slog through January.
By February you are singing the blues to beat the band in 18-degree weather.
Then God gives you a reprieve in March.
Ah.
The sun breaks out.
The temperature turns northward,  puddles melt.
Could this be it? Signs of spring?
But no. Not enough gray and brown for you?
Wait two days and you get snow.
Black ice on the deck. Whoops go the feet out from under you in a late evening run down the deck to the trash. Really? Seriously? Down goes the bag, bouncing along the 17 steps of terror.
I left it there. All night. At the bottom.
And in the morning, the UPS guy, who is, by now, used to me looking like I have a sideswiped mohawk and no other clothes other than my shorty pjs and thermal undershirt to my name, merely sidestepped it and delivered my package. With a straight face. He knew. He knew what chaos resides only inches away. Yes, he knew. He, who regularly hightails it out of here to the bay of our rescue dog at the door.
Oh, how some days I wish I could follow. Oh, how easy would it be to dress in brown, deliver boxes, and run obstacle courses past dogs, cats, kids, cars. Far easier than to wait for spring in New England, I think.

Have a good one.

16 Essentials for Winter Island Living

1.Two words - muck boots.
2.Two more words - down vest for the shoulder seasons.
3.A good wool hat - repeat, a good wool hat. Turns out your mother was right.
4.Scarf around the neck at all times - cold+high dew point = bone-chilling misery sliding right down the front of your coat if you even let in one centimeter of air space.
5.Outdoor clothing is your fashion statement. No one gets to see your street clothes in the winter.
6.Know the weekly specials at the restaurants. You can conceivably eat two-for-ones and low price specials almost every night of the week.
7.Know when said restaurants go on winter hiatus - there's a period in March where almost EVERYONE is closed - memorize and prepare!
8.Taste the clam/seafood chowder everywhere. Memorize restaurant recipe peculiarities. Guests want to know where the best chowder is; you have to be ready for thick/thin/potatoes or no/bacon or fatback controversies.
9.The Newes has good hard cider and a warm fire going all winter.
10.Pick up your mail. When you are used to having mail delivery, a post box or a lockbox can really screw you up.
11.Keep A ferry schedule handy at all phones, in all cars, in all purses/wallets. You never know who you have to pick up and when. 
12.Be sure to get off-island at least once - if just for practice driving the speed limit. Sucks if you don't. It's like trying to play the kids' damn car video games, only for real. Be sure to do all you can to get preferred listing at boat reservation office - this is essentially a gold ticket for anyone else who doesn't live here. Non-transferable; guard number with your life.
13.Know the intricacies of home heating system before that one cold day when it decides to do something novel like quit. And it will. 60 degree bedrooms can be remedied by flannel sheets and converting to a family bed with the pets. Don't under any circumstances let the rescue dog hog the middle. She will be hard to live with after.
14.Memorize donut list at Humphrey's and Dippin' Donuts. Get there before 7.
 15.Coffee consumption goes up as the temperatures go down. Invest in a Keurig. Everybody gets their own brand, no arguing over flavor merits versus ability to melt a hole in the cup.
 16.Ice melt is your friend.

Have a good one.

Caution, Joy Ahead

If you hadn't noticed, it's February. And I haven't written a thing in the new year.
And for good reason. I was struggling with my resolution list. Honestly. It plagued me. So. Here it is.

This year, I resolve to chuck the whole New Year Resolution thing. An anti-resolution year, as it were. Instead, I plan on opening my eyes only to possibilities. Experiences. Joy. And living moment-to-moment. Because, after all, isn't that all we have really?

Each year, since I was young, I have chosen to do one positively brave thing a year. It started as a response to discovering I was afraid of heights, but has progressed to identifying one thing that would truly test my mettle as an individual. In a positive way, mind you. One year it was flying school. Another, it was crossing the swinging suspension walking bridge in Vancouver. Then it was learning to fly-fish. Starting a fiction project. Starting my own Mary Kay business. Closing my own Mary Kay business lol. Climbing to the top of an ancient castle turret. Hanging backwards over a parapet to kiss the Blarney stone. But sometimes it was as simple as a thing that I couldn't bring myself to do, yet needed to. Like an exercise class a little beyond my reach. Or an online course. Mostly, though, I have forgotten the task, but remembered the feeling of accomplishment afterward. And that's enough for me to continue.

 So this year, let's hear it for going for the positive moment. Doing the brave thing. Leaving space to breathe. Dwelling in the land of possibility. Seeing the everyday miracle. Letting life rip. Embarrassing yourself. Acting positively out-of-character. I'm telling you right now, you don't want to see me waste my time on what you may think are silly things, then close your eyes.

Maybe there is a reason why "joy" is a big word during the holidays.  Maybe it's not just to remember that magical night long ago. Maybe it's also to remind us that there is joy ahead. Plan on it.

Have a good one. :)           

31 things to do while it rains for: a day...week...month on the Island

Oh for Pete's Sake.
It has been raining for freaking days now.

Here's what I have found to do on the island during the monsoon season.


1. Turn on the happy light. Sit close to pick up full spectrum lighting. It really works. Don't burn your hair.
2. Knit.
3. Drink box wine.
4. Don't try to knit.
5. Balance your checkbook.
6. Cry.
7. Do laundry.
8. Go to lunch! Black Dog Cafe. Order the chowder and Menemsha Sunset Latte. Oogle over the Black Dog Chocolate Bomb, but under no circumstance succumb.
9. Sit at Gma's - it's warm there. Don't wear a sweater. Don't worry if you drift off. It's the heat, not the humidity - family joke.
10. Get under a good down comforter and read.
11. Get over yourself.
12. Go to lunch again. This time Linda Jean's. Order the Big C cheeseburger and fries. Make sure you sit in Kim's section.
13. Drink lots of Keurig Machine coffee - warning, it can be addictive.
14. Go on Craigslist on the freebie link for laughs. People, you are giving away a dogwood tree that is faded and shows few blossoms?????
15. I don't think I even need to mention the F-word. (Facebook:) )
16. Get over yourself again.
17. Organize your underwear drawer.
18. Go to Vineyard Bottled Water. Fill the egg crate bottom with a new mix of Keurig Cup coffee portions. Go ahead. Try the chai tea K-cup. Live dangerously. (This place is awesome - they keep your charge on account and you can go in anytime and get whatever k-cups you desire - over 50 different kinds! Bed Bath and Beyond can't claim that!)
18. Curse that you have no invisible dog fence as you enter the Rain Zone for the 4th time for the dog's potty time and step in sandy mud. Ugh.
19. Go get mud boots at the dry cleaners. That's right. The dry cleaners. The one-stop shopping place for island men. :) Muck Boots brand are the bomb. Will get you through many hurricanes, Nor'easters and occasionally the incessant rain. :) Look at all the Carhartt and hunting season attire. Try on the jackets and hats. Consider the fur-lined aviator hat. Buy the glove liners. Under no circumstance succumb to the neon orange hunting hats. They do not look good on anyone. Don't forget to pick up Gma's sweater.
20. Go to Leslie's Drug Store. Buy some Maybelline lipstick. Try a new color. Talk with Lena at the counter. Hear her story of what her grandkids are up to now.
21. Go to Rainy Day -  ha -  it's a store. Buy on Tuesdays when you get 10% off for belonging to the Island Shopper's Club. Scope out the holiday displays. Plan your shopping list for Day After Christmas Sale. Map out location of said list items. It gets ugly in there that day.
22. Go to the Library. Read all the magazines. Lounge in the chairs.
23. Make chicken tortilla soup. Put a bit of lime juice in to sweeten the tomatoes just a tad. Under no circumstance add sugar like the alien family members do on Wednesday night supper nights. What are they thinking.
24. Call Sidekick Carol. She will always cheer you up.
25. Put the floor pedal exerciser up on a table. Turn on your ipod. Sing like there's no tommorow. Ride like the wind, only with your arms lol.
26. Lunchtime again. Waterside Market. Get your favorite. You know you want it. The Supreme 3-cheese grilled cheese sandwich and Good Karma latte. You have never tasted a grilled cheese sandwich like this one. Trust me.
27. Go to Leroux Home Store. Get one kitchen gadget you have never considered. Find out how to use it. Use it for supper tonight.
28. Make one rainy evening run to Cumby's for a magazine and slurpy. Check out the $7.99 dvds on the rounder rack by the front door. Buy a scratch-off ticket. Yes, every islander does this.
29. Use Uncle John's truck and drive on a road you've never been on. The leaves have fallen and you can see all the mega-mansions that are hidden by foliage during the summer. Don't go up OJ lawyer Dershowitz's dirt road. You can't turn around without slidding lol.
30. Go to Mocha Mott's coffee for late breakfast. Sit in the corner booth. Order the Everything bagel slathered with cream cheese and a cappuccino. Read the leftover national papers. Gossip with the regulars about recent fire at house rented by specials from police dept., allegedly from a candle near a bedroom window. Speculate on whose room. Talk nicely. And as Brother-In-Law playfully whispered, "When they come in to get their coffee, don't hum 'Candle in the Wind'." 
31. Drive along State Beach Road to see the waves during the storm. Watch them crash over the seawall and hit the road. See the real beauty of the moment before you.






Have a good one.

Going to the Vets is like going to Cheers

Uh huh. You know one of our 4 pets would have an "issue" with moving.
But dealing with a multi-pet household when one is having said bladder "issue" is difficult.
Who is the culprit? It's like playing a game of Clue - is it 16-year-old cocker spaniel Quinn in the office with the dog bed? Is it 11 year-old Tashmoo with a floor pillow in the living room? (I 86'd the floor pillow). Or, is it tomgirl rescue cat Diesel, in the laundry room with a quilt? Or is it... no it couldn't be aloof Hermione; she never shares any experiences with the rest of the family unless she deems it Orange Alert DEPCON 6 Level.

When I finally figured out it was not the ancient dog who has had kidney stones in the recent past, I had to turn the investigative light on male cat Tashmoo, who also has had kidney stones in the past. (I definitely would be drinking bottled water if I were you, folks back in KY lol). So off to visit The Vet.

Culprit Tashmoo

Good thing Hubby is here to help as I still can't carry anything over 5 pounds - ie my purse. Choosing a vet here was not difficult as we had purchased special foods from the airport vet office. They were kind enough to get us in within a few hours, and the ride was short so enduring Tash's indignant protestations was tolerable.

As we were "worked in" to the schedule, we could gather a bit of info while we waited, deciding if we were going to keep this vet as the island vet or not.

First off, let me say, any vet who keeps a bird in a cage in the middle of the waiting room is a genius. Geoff unknowingly plopped the cat carrier right in front of the bird.  I didn't notice this at first, as I was casing the joint for "friendlies" - you know, pet owners who might inadvertently spill the beans on the vet service. But then I noticed I had not heard from Tash. Assuming the worst, I quickly checked to see if he was still breathing and ... ok he was using his CAT RAY VISION, holding perfectly still, willing the bird to open the cage and fly right into the cat carrier. He was really concentrating so hard he missed the three dogs who entered and exited beside him.

As I said, going to the Vets here is like going to the Cheers bar - EVERYONE knows your name... and your dog's name, your cat's name, your neighbor's name, your plumber's name. You get the picture.
But what was so charming and ultimately appealing, was that people were actually having serious conversations about pets and life and what was happening in their lives.

I learned the following:
The receptionist was taking care of a vet client's cat who had been burned. She had to get up at 5 am every day to wash, change the cat's bedding, sterile clean the burn site, put antibiotics on it and keep the cat from licking it off. That was in the morning. She had to do the same at night after a full day's work as receptionist/assistant. Already I liked a practice, with employees of that commitment level.

A client waiting for her dog to be groomed, had just had the traumatic event of having two pets perish within weeks of one another - one from illness, the other suddenly. She was going back to New York to pick up ashes and return to bury them. A lively conversation ensued regarding FedEx and mailing ashes.

This client also reviewed how she helped her husband up from a fall - he was too large for her to pick up, so she ingeniously made him scoot over to the two steps that led up to the main house from their living room, had him inch up to the top, scooted a chair over, turned it backwards, and let the husband pull himself up while she pulled against the chair in the opposite direction. I wanted the name of the chair manufacturer as no chair we had ever owned could hold a teenager down on four chair legs let alone hold together to pull up one very large adult.

I also learned which plumber was slow to deliver, what farm was holding a fall festival, which restaurants had already cut back hours, how never to take the freight boat to the Mainland in a storm and hot-air versus forced water heating systems. In the end, the pellet stove won out, a surprise entry from the groomer walking by with a Tibetan sheep dog.

The actual visit with the vet was productive, pleasant and informative. Tash indeed was the culprit, medicine was administered as well as shots due, and the discovery that the vet's close relative lived in the next town over back in Kentucky, moving there "three husbands ago".

And although I adore our vet practice at home, this country vet practice was perfect for our multi-pet needs. Should we ever require care for the oldest pet in an urgent situation, there is also a wonderful mobile vet on the island, ready, willing and able to meet our at-home needs - something I have yet to find in the Cinci area.

One thing I am learning about this place is, where ever you go, people quickly become accustomed to your face and your situation. The pharmacy clerk gives advice about her fractured pelvis situation, the sales assistant knows exactly what styles I like and chooses alternatives while I'm in the dressing room, the person next in line at the grocery offers tips on using the Island Club Card for case discounts on sale items to save money as well as the absolutely covetous information that our propane company gives 10 % off all fill-ups with the same card. And this happens not just in the town where I live, but also the other towns on the island.

Here's to community! Cheers!

Have a good one.

Change is in the air

I knew it the minute I woke up this morning.
Change is in the air.

The air feels different from home in the fall.
It fairly crackles with electric energy, so close to water.
The wind blows and blows, then settles down, then blows and blows again, skittering the summer funk right out.

The water changes to a deep, deep sapphire blue.
The Fishing Derby starts. Stats are posted everywhere. The coffee shop, the local dairy dip hangout, the papers.  People talk and discuss, over checkout counters in grocery stores.

Yards sales are hot and heavy Saturdays and Sundays, but especially so Columbus Day week-end, when it's the last chance to clean and clear before the winter sets in.


You can drive to get the morning off-island papers or Dippin Donuts or visit Mocha Mott's or Espresso Love or the Black Dog Cafe for morning joe without stopping for a single light. As a matter of fact, there are no stop lights, except a lone blinker, on the road to the airport.

And even though the leaves haven't changed, the trees know what's coming - their leaves glossy, crisp, lovely, overhanging like heavy arbors along most roads, waiting for the first good rain to change color and drop.

Weekly potluck and family dinners begin. A chance to not lose touch, when it's so easy to pull oneself in like a clam, shutting off contact in the colder months. Isolation is common on the island. So is alcohol and substance abuse in the winter. Stiff constitutions and healthy outlooks are vital to living a balanced life here. But there is an attitude of checking in, looking after, doing for others that is apparent all year long, but most evident when fall appears - a part of small community life. It's like the circling of wagons, fending off the ills of cold weather island living

The sunlight shifts and softens. Soon the stark gray water-reflected, winter light will appear. But not now. Not here. 

And I can finally get a parking space on Main Street.

Morning Glory Farm has its pumpkin patch and homemade zucchini bread ready. Hubby is here this weekend. I think we will take a drive and pick out a pumpkin and a mum for the steps today. :)

Have a good one.

A wrinkle in time or "Where Been You?"

Time warp is a quirky thing.
Take, for instance, this week. Where did it go?
Into that parallel universe we call Medical Care, that's where.

This week I was introduced to Massachusetts medical care on the island, otherwise known as the black hole into which even my opinion will land.

I went to the orthopedic guy to recheck my fracture. Since it wasn't getting any less painful, and I had turned over in bed and felt something go SNAP, I figured I needed a recheck.

While on the x-ray table I reached down to show the tech where the pain was, but instead found a new swelling. Huh. Where did that come from? Since I have been losing weight new things pop up, you know, that you didn't know you had... like hip bones and such lol. But no, this wasn't a hip bone.

So the good doctor did what any good doctor would do - he ordered a Medical Test. Which meant navigating the new hospital - talk about uncharted territory. Boldly going to where no man has ever gone before. The new hospital is lovely, but a version of a labyrinth I did not want to play.

I pulled into the parking lot only to find this sign.

 And I will save that for another day. :)

 45 minutes later I was on the gurney getting an ultrasound. The room was impressive, the equipment impressive, the tech impressive, but do you think they could find that lump? Fair enough it was along the crease of the leg/hip, and I have lost weight recently, so things appear and disappear on a whim, but PEOPLE. Perhaps we shouldn't have Jumped To Conclusions.

After another 20 minutes something was found and photographed.

3 hours later the doc was on the phone with me scheduling a visit to the Surgeon. The SURGEON? What the? A swollen lymph node?

24 hours later the surgeon was explaining that I had hit the tri-fecta of possibilities - a swollen lymph node, a benign lipoma, and/or a small hernia. Mostly ruling out the lymph node by location upon examination, we were left with lipoma and hernia. And the declaration "it has to come out".

Now if this had happened anywhere else or at any other time, we would have done the following: orthopedic finds the swelling and refers back family doctor, who goes over findings and then arranges for a consult with a surgeon. If necessary. But ta-da, this is Massachusetts, home of mandatory medical care. We pass Go, we pay $200 out-of-network pocket, we skip the GP, we head straight to the specialist.

All because I "have no GP". I quickly hobbled over to the GP offices to register so I could at least talk it over with a family doc. But no, receptionist after receptionist politely told me their doctor was not taking new patients, or I could be put on a waiting list for many, many months, or the best one - the doctor could not see me till mid- October, but would pass my dilemma on to the doc, and I could see the local "Dr. Feel Good". You know every community has them, the one doctor who is laid back and has a lot of prescription pain seeking patients. Uh no, I don't think so. Or I could go to the walk-in clinic for a consult. Ok the last time I went there, I waited 3 and 1/2 hours to see someone about a rash/lymne disease scare that ended up being nothing.  Apparently, they can't get enough GP physicians to practice on the island. Low pay, overworked, wrangles with medical insurance companies. You get the picture?

Now I do like the swiftness of the system - if they feel you have a real issue, they will get you to the right doctor pronto. But since this was, upon an actual physical exam not so clear cut, I would at least like a chance for a second opinion. Which I will get. Come hell or hurricane water.

So. As my son once said sleepily, upon awakening from ear tube surgery when he was 2, "Where been  you?"

I been through Medical Care. :)
Come on Congress we can do better.





Have a good one.

All we wanted was a pizza

But what we got was much, much more. :)

It was a typical Thursday night, and I was avoiding Weight Watchers like the plague since I had been feeling sorry for myself. My niece (and namesake ) Julie, who happens to have lived and worked on this island for close to 15 years, suggested we grab a quick bite to eat at the newest pizzeria, Flatbread Company, at the airport with my sister-in-law Carol (her mom, you'll get the connections sooner or later).

So far, so good.

With everyone arriving separately, I had no idea (and apparently neither did they) for what was in store when I hit the overflowing parking lot. Hmm, maybe this pizza is way better than I thought.

I just barely got inside when they closed the doors - no tables left, standing room only. Wow, this pizza must be way better than I thought. Luckily, Julie had secured a table for us down near the stage. The pizzeria shares its uber-cool, tin-roofed warehouse with a small-venue bar/club now called Nectar's, (owned a long time ago by Carly Simon).

I sat down quickly, surprised to see a stranger, already eating, also seated at the table. Usual Sidekick Carol was nowhere in sight.  As with all places on-island, who sells you the cute, boutique shirt in the morning may also serve you dinner at night. Tonight we were lucky: one of my niece's work assistants was also waiting on us.

inside Flatbread Co./Nectar's

Julie introduced me to the stranger, Stephanie, and mentioned that apparently there was some kind of concert (she didn't know quite what) also happening tonight, so we were fortunate to get the table. We immediately set to work finding Sidekick Carol so that we could order and perhaps get out before the concert started and we had to pay? we weren't sure.

Making careful conversation, since I still didn't know what the connection was with the stranger, and since said stranger was also finishing her meal and I didn't want to interrupt, we continued to call and text Sidekick Carol so we could get the order in and get the heck out of Pizzeria Dodge.

Shortly thereafter Sidekick Carol appeared at the table, looking as bewildered as we apparently looked, and we set about deciding what to order. We continued to make polite conversation - oh hell, we just plain conversed, on this small island, you just get on with it, you know what I mean? - And as we did, we soon discovered this was not just some concert, it was SOME CONCERT, celebrating 25 years of local radio DJ Barbara Dasey's career at MVY radio.

Livingston Taylor

And remember when I mentioned the island has a soft spot for musicians, especially local ones? Well they really do, for this concert would feature a great many new and established island artists, especially one local singing family... you might remember them as the Taylors? As in Livingston, James Taylor's brother and also sister Kate, and Ben, his son with Carly Simon, Ben. New to island life, I had no idea how serendipitous and frequent these family sing-alongs were!

And the other musicians, equally awesome - among them Mike Benjamin and his lovely daughter Charlotte, who has a set of pipes that could put Norah Jones and Joss Stone out of business, and Tom Majors, drummer extraordinaire, of  Entrain.

So all in all, it was a great little surprise of a night. We had super delicious made-to-order organic pizza, I was ushered into how local the nightlife really is, we fell under the spell of the Taylors and Benjamins, I began to understand just what a unique and brilliant little island this is, and I had dutifully scoured the crowd for any other celebrities I might spy. After all, I am still a greenhorn at brushes with fabulousness. As for the stranger in the midst? It was the island version of a four-top community table lol.


Oh, I forgot.
Was Prince there? Though he is rather striking, and it shall long be debated amongst ourselves ... you be the judge.
There under the exit sign, at the end of the show. :)

The Purple One?

Have a good one.

Getting my Ohm on island style

Today is meditation day.
Today I will drive down a long and winding dirt road in West Tisbury, shared with beach goers searching for the perfect wave at Long Point, and turn off to a simple shingled building housing the Bodhi Path Buddhist Center.

I will take my shoes off just outside the door, step barefoot onto a glistening wood floor, leave my cares and worries behind, and enter into calm and bliss - if just for the moment.

picture by Bodhi Path Centers

Today Lama Yeshe Drolma (seasonal lama in residence) will again instruct us on how to be present in the now, calm the mind, concentrate on our breathing, and let the small child chatter rise up and float away, leaving a mind ready to do its work - gain insight and clarity in this busy give-and-take world of ours.

I like this center - it's easy going (you can sit on chairs instead of that infernal lotus position, which in my present condition would never do). There's no pressure to perform or jump ethereal hoops. And for the time, I can be the essence of me - a child of a most high God (you do not have to be Buddhist to attend or practice - they accept modern-day practitioners), pure and good and willing to be of service to all beings without putting myself or others in harm's way. 

The main meditation practice is shamatha - calm abiding meditation. Letting ourselves be here peacefully.

But our mind isn't always calm, peaceful or abiding is it? It might be irritated, angry, jealous, worried. How do we get to peace? We begin. We take focus on our breathing by counting the in and out breaths. We let our squirrelly thought float up, recognize it as a thought, and let it go.

And then it happens. We experience the quiet. No drifting, no thinking about a zillion things. We hear the crickets or the plane or feel the warm sun coming in the window. Before we couldn't keep our mind focused on anything long enough. Now we can keep it in peace long enough to recognize and value our surroundings.

This is not just the point of being Buddhist. It's the point of being a human.


Think about it.

No wait, don't.

There, you have it! :)






Have a good one.

The price of fame and fortune or wasn't that Keri Russell that just walked by?

Ok People. It is the 15th of the the effin' month of September and I still can't get a parking space on Main St. Vineyard Haven?! At 2 o'clock in the afternoon even.

Oh dear. What have I gotten myself into?
 I think we know the answer to that. Plenty. :)

It's nice to think that everyone wants to visit this place, even in the Off Season. That we welcome one and all to this idyllic setting with open arms (and pockets :) ). This is the kind of place that even prides itself on being the "nicer cousin" island playground of the rich and famous to the more rigid and uppity "other" island playground of the Uber Rich and Famous, neighboring Nantucket.

Here we like to leave our celebrities alone, preferring to ogle at a nice, quiet distance. Here you might see on any given morning, Ted Danson dipping into the Bunch of Grapes Bookstore, or Meg Ryan waiting patiently for her young child to finish playing a game at the local game arcade like any other mom or dad. With no massive crowd yelling for autographs or paparazzi snapping tabloid shots. Or you might run into Jim Belushi enjoying a family dinner at the local bistro/bar, the only thing differentiating him from the general patronage is the fact that he has a labeled private reserve liquor cabinet above the bar - a privilege also afforded to non-celebrity locals as well. And when the Presidential Motorcade arrived for a second visit, our only complaint was traffic jams.

from MV Times, Main St. Vineyard Haven

Yes, the islanders try to treat the "fortunate 500" the same as everyone else here - with that insouciant, devil-may-care attitude afforded anyone here... if you "ain't" born and raised here, you're just an off-islander! However. They do have one guilty pleasure they get a little ga-ga over -- celebrity musician sitings.


This morning at 12:41 a.m., I got the following text from my brother-in-law, John Robert (yes first and middle - he's originally from the South, so we try to humor him into thinking Yankees do that, too lol) who works as a professional waiter at the above bistro/bar shabby chic kind of place: "I just waited on PRINCE!!!"

I think that says it all. :)

Just don't park in my parking space.





Have a good one.

Well will you look at that!

Or don't.

There's something to be said for being able to stand out in your front yard in your nightie letting the dog take a leak and not having a single person see. :)

Couldn't ever do that at our Old Kentucky Home, although our next-door neighbor Art persisted in getting his morning paper in his boxers till he got remarried. But men are a different breed.

Do I Spy a Path?

I love the fact that our driveway is a theoretical path on a nature conservancy we abut. I say theoretical because where this is on our town plot map is smack dab in the middle of what looks like might be a scene out of a Sylvester Stallone movie. No path there, no siree. Nothing else located on our driveway but us. And the neighbors on the other sides are hidden by evergreens. Nice!

Beyond the driveway

So I will continue to stand outside proudly in my pj's, at least 'til the first cold snap. Or as my Aunt Ruth likes to say (paraphrasing a famous actress), "I don't care what you do, so long as you don't do it in the street and frighten the horses."


Have a good one.

If a tree falls in the woods...

You know the saying. But here's a twist. This morning I took the dog out (a 16 year-old female cocker spaniel we like to call Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, but  referred to as Quinn) for her morning constitution, and she began nosing around what I thought was a bunch of brown leaves.

Intrepid Investgator Quinn

On closer inspection, I discovered it was, in fact, the brown withered shell of a large crab. Now I know I've been a landlubber for most of my life, and I know we do now reside on an island, but I live what would be roughly 2-3 blocks, if we had blocks, from the Lagoon. And for the withered shell of a crab to show up one morning in my front patch we like to call a yard... well, no I don't think so!

So to put a twist on the usual philosophical quote, if a crab shell shows up in the front yard and there is no one around to see it, who the heck put it there??

This, dear reader, is the stuff islanders are made of! So I did what any self-respecting island greenhorn would do. I did a mobile shout-out to my friend Sue, who has spent more time in and around water in her first years of life than I have in the whole of my 55 years, and who also happens to live here seasonally.

And her answer ladies and gentlemen... wait for it, wait for it... boom. Flying seagull!


Originally, I had thought skunk or maybe raccoon. But I'm gonna go with Sue.



Have a good one.

Let the Madness Begin

What does 748 miles + clearing, packing and moving out of a 5,000 square foot house + clearing, packing and moving out of a 2,000 square foot summer cottage + moving into a 2,800 square foot house on an island off the coast of Cape Cod + 3 cats and 1 dog + a traveling husband  + a broken pelvis, all in 8 weeks', yes I said 8 weeks' folks, time = ?

Sheer madness.

But wait. Don't touch that dial just yet. Let me explain.

My Old Kentucky Home

I first got the crazy notion for a simpler life, while traversing Concourse B in Boston Logan for, yet again, the umpteenth time in so many months, that hey, why don't we just slow down and stay in one spot for a bit. I had been commuting from the Greater Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky area to a small island off the coast of Cape Cod for several years due to health issues in the family, and frankly I was literally wearing out my bones doing it. Rehabbing two knee replacements (from earlier injuries and I'm not that old - 55) in between all this had just worn me down, and I was ready for a rest.

Fast forward to summer of 2010 and voila, I was in the midst of moving out of, and putting onto a dismal real estate market, 2 houses. One, a lovely, large and urbane house in the Cincinnati area, and the other, a unique, historic 4 bedroom Victorian cottage on Martha's Vineyard Island. Oh, and did I mention I found a perfect winterized house on said island that we closed on in same summer of 2010?

Yes, once you get to know me you will realize how this scenario is just one of many crazy, skewed, but typical happenings in my life. But I digress.

Now it is the fall of 2010 and traveling husband, 3 cats and 1 dog and I are somewhat ensconced in our New England winterized house. Well some of us are. :) Hubby is still commuting back and forth from Cincinnati. We expect to keep a townhouse or apt. in NKY once the house there sells. Oh, and the Gingerbread cottage has a contract (closing in October - wish us luck). So all is not lost. Except, I didn't explain the broken pelvis part did I??

Suffice it to say, one does not do the above, somewhat by oneself (remember, traveling hubby?), and go to diet group and not sacrifice something! So I cut back a little too much on the calcium. And then I lifted and carried one box too many. And then I did some heavy overstriding on Concourse B, remember? Hey I'm short, and the bus to the Cape only makes so many runs!! Abracadabra - and a fracture of the pelvis appears!

Anyway, here we are, at 5:30 in the morning having a cup of joe, sitting on a foam cushion, reminiscing about the good times, ha. :)

Victorian Cottage

Check out the photos of the houses. Yes, folks it can be done!       















Have a good one.

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