ferry_blathing ovenbird Just me racing the dwindling cell signal in order to say that the ocean is calm and the wind is cold (and my dog is wrapped in my hoodie like a burrito) and we're sailing our way into the straight, watching for whales and porpoises and promises of something wild somewhere on the edge of the world. 250707 ... ovenbird I am relegated to the "pet area" but this is not a hardship. Up until a couple of years ago pets had to stay in a dingy, dark room on the car deck but West Coasters are strong dog advocates and now we have a designated pet section on the upper deck where Mulder and I can have comfortable seats and a good view of the ocean. We are once again looking for whales and feeling a little miffed that we haven't seen one yet. A man a table over has a Bible instead of a dog and he has his hands clasped in prayer. Hopefully he's praying for whales. If I were praying right now, that's what I would pray for (that whole mess with Jonah notwithstanding). I love this journey from island to mainland. There is hardly a more scenic way to travel. I get mountains and tiny islands and beautiful cabins on cliffs that I will never be able to afford but dream of living in anyway. Sometimes there are seals and sea birds, sail boats and kayaks. As I watch it all drift by I feel something that might be happiness though it has a seam of sadness, like every shining thing I have ever held. I will be home soon (or will arrive at one version of home) and I will sleep in my own bed and tomorrow I will resume the quotidian shape of living and summer will unfold and my children will grow and I will find myself one year older and we will have cake and these piles driven deep into the sand will hold up every day that follows. 250711 ... ovenbird I'm not ready to go home. I know what waits for me there–chaos and busy days and so many expectations. There's back to school shopping, a house that is likely to be in disarray, a dog that needs a hair cut, groceries to buy, swimming lessons to get to, the looming threat of September with its parade of difficult adjustments and activities for the kids (dance and hockey and piano and karate and girl guides). I never realize how tired I am until I get a break from being tired and then when I have to pick all the weight up again it feels heavier than before. One year from now I'll come back here and see how much I managed to carry. I'll see how much my spine has bent. How much smaller I have become. 250824 what's it to you? who go blather from