Back to Basics

Sometimes, vacations are things to be held onto with your bare knuckles, your fingernails scraping the floor as they try to drag you out the door to go home. Sometimes, vacations are like way stations on a journey,  necessary but boring periods of rest when you are anxious to continue on the journey.

This one was somewhere in between the two. Still feeling out of sorts and not up to my regular routine, the trip was challenging for all. Mr. Pom had to shoulder all of the driving and packing and toting and shopping and entertaining of the young'un. We ate quick meals out, since I still can't stomach much. I spent a lot of time reading in the car while the family did stuff, which is why Mr. Pom only blanched when I discovered this stuffed to the gills bookstore. And spent a lot of money.

However, my convalescence also shook us out of our usual routine. We only went to the big ocean beach once, and then late in the day when we fought over the only remaining dry towel when the sea wind kicked up. Fortifications of lobster fritters and clam chowder were necessary.

Most mornings, we got in the car and drove somewhere, allowing us to investigate new places to stay and swim veering from the wilds of the ocean areas to the settled, snug historic towns replete with window boxes stuffed with geraniums and impatiens and the ubiquitous onion lanterns hanging by the front door.

The Teen didn't seem to mind these excursions; she actually seemed to enjoy them. It was so lovely to have her company all week. With her job as a counselor and my work and then the surgery, I felt as though I'd hardly seen her this year. She has such a beautiful relationship with her father; they share interests in baseball, cars, and mini-golf. I don't have a lot to offer her, my athletic, busy child, at this point in her life. She's not one to go shopping and have lunch, so whatever gets us together for a few hours together is sweeter than words.

After lunch, we were ready to sit by the water, let the teen go off skim boarding for hours, and fall into our books. I have read more the past week than in the months prior and I found many wonderful new authors that I'll share soon as I round them up from all the suitcases strewn around the house.

I am working on a new journal done on pastel papers with gouache. It's for my class on travel journaling in October. Write me if you are interested, as there are still seats available. I've been invited to submit a piece for a new book being published and I'm working on the next submission to Cloth, Paper, Scissors, which is different from anything I've done before.

I'm glad to be home, sleeping in my own bed, having coffee with Mr. Pom on the porch in the cool - cold, really - early morning. Our sunflowers all bloomed while we were gone and Mr. Pom is itching to paint the front door with a new coat of Chinese red. There are books to sort and shelves to to culled to  make room for the new ones. The potted garden outside the porch needs to be pruned and watered for one last month of bloom. The pantry needs to be restocked and loads of laundry done. It's time for Mr. Pom to smoke something (on the grill!) and for a pot of something savory to be quietly simmering on the stove.