Jumping Ship

I jumped ship this past week.  I guess I could have been court martialed as a deserter if I were on a military vessel.  But I wasn't and I'm not behind bars, but I did enjoy some time in "solitary."

Living in such close quarters with two men (well, one is almost a man) can be very trying on a sensitive, menopausal, grumpy, and easily bored me.  Last weekend, I fled.  I did give the captain and crew warning, but they weren't happy about it.  I still had to go; it was time.

I took the long way home, hopping off at the Woodbridge exit heading south.  I love driving through there, because things are so different while remaining so much the same.  Many memories there growing up in the 60s and 70s. 

I even drove through the old trailer park where I lived, which is still there and seems to be thriving.  It seems much smaller now, though, even though I lived there as an adult and where my oldest son was born.  Maybe because trees are growing up and filling in the once-empty spaces.  I stopped to take pictures to send to my sisters and father.

I drove on, and surprisingly, realized that I had also been worrying about our dog.  Our house/dog sitter is a very overtaxed person and is really never home.  Our neighbor was helping out with dog care, but I still thought it was time to check on how things were going for myself.

I'm glad I did as I found that a mass that had been on our dog's leg for a year (which the vet had said not to worry about) had burst open and needed attention.  Much of the week was spent on a vet visit which led to the dog's having surgery a few days later (at 7 freakin' a.m., too).  Had the mass stayed inside the skin, the dog could have gone on forever, but sometimes the blood vessels run out of oxygen and the skin dies (or, in our case, could have been teased open by a bored dog in his kennel).  Getting up early would be a good thing for me, but I realized that NONE of the stores I would venture into are open at that time of the morning.  Sheesh!  Better to sleep in, I say, and I do.

I made time to check the mail, clean the house, take out the trash, sweep off the front porch and back deck (yeah, in 24 hours, you could not notice as the leaves all came back!!), water indoor plants, do laundry (including upholstery that the dog decided to ooze on, and watch tons of television. 

I finished watching the remaining episodes of  Last Tango in Halifax, which was riveting television with great acting.  Sob, sob, sob.  Finished up a few Call the Midwife episodes and more sobbing.  Good grief?  Anything happy going on?  A Canadian fix-em-up show which has gotten to the point of the same plot line every episode.  More sobbing because they ran out of money AGAIN to finish the house.  Will they "Love It or List It?"  I can't take the stress!

I enjoyed the time at the house, but the housework was boring (still didn't get all the dust).  Met up with a girlfriend for dinner at the lovely and wonderful Mason Dixon restaurant; it was my first time since they'd moved from their old quarters.  Sparkly sweet wine and a chicken breast with pineapple, mango, and papaya was perfect.  My friend has the Turkey Rachel, also fantastic.  We walked up the street to say hello to my oldest son, who was tattooing, but took a minute for a quick hello hug.

Checked out a pawn shop later and I was able to restrain myself from buying anything realizing that I didn't want to add anything to my house nor to the boat (which is stuffed to the gills).

A get together with a another close friend was a late breakfast just yesterday.  I hadn't wanted to venture too far from home because of the dog's recovery and restrictions.  So breakfast close by was good.  My friend(s) and I can talk for hours, without noticing anyone else around us.  We got caught up on each others' lives, I showed her how to upload photos to FB, and we chatted some more. 

At some point, I heard a voice that I recognized in the booth behind us; I leaned out sideways from my booth just as that person leaned because he had heard a voice HE recognized.  I burst out laughing at the coincidence.  I've known this man and his wife for 34, 35 years, something like that.   They told me that they had just talked about whether they should come to that particular restaurant.  The wife said, "Well, Ruth comes here a lot and says it is good, so we should give it a try."  They came in and ended up sitting right behind us; I love when stuff happens that way.

After more laughs and goodbyes, my friend and I visited an art gallery on Route 3, Back Door Gallery, a real not-so-hidden treasure, to see a mutual friend's show.  I had already seen it but wanted to take her, so it was a good time all over again.  We both bought a print from this guy, so I will tell you to check out Saeed Ordoubadi's photography/mixed media show there this month!  Go now!

Being that we have no idea of our real departure date nor if we are even going to be able to make this long-anticipated trip has kept me in a weird mental limbo.  But still, I spend as much time with family when I'm home.  They are my grounding.  My daughter got the bulk of my time this week and she and my grandson and I spent time at her house reading books, messing around in the garden picking peppers and herbs, going to Miller Farms for a hayride and pumpkin picking, walking at the battlefield park, and, of course, one of my favorite things, eating some of her fantastic food.  I'm trying to convince her to put together a small cookbook; wish me luck.

So, exactly a week later, I am back at the boat, with recovering dog in tow.  Our two cats live outdoors and will be fine.  The Captain had prepared a lovely dinner (pork loin (which I don't eat, but it was lovely anyway), sauteed zucchini and onions, and rice).

As soon as I stepped on board Nalani, however, I got vertigo or something.  My stomach felt and still feels queasy.  The boat is barely moving, but I guess that time away turned me back into a land-lubbing dirt dweller much too quickly.  Either that, or I'm having a psychosomatic reaction to being back.  Ugh.  Now I know what it means to have to go back to the drawing board.  Not so good and I'm running out of chalk . . . .