Beach Kitty

One of my most favourite things is going out adventuring. Exploring places unknown. Since I didn't grow up on the Island like most of the people around here, every day can be a new experience. I say 'can be' because some days I'm tired and want to warm my weary bones over the fire of lethargy. That gave me a chuckle. It seems oxymoronic, doesn't it? Fires of lethargy. If anything, lethargy would be ice, I'd think. 

There's a sense of wonderment adventuring brings. The discovery of new things is rewarding, feeding your heart, soul and body. It's so simple too, just checking out beaches and picking up rocks, wading in the water. Some might think when you've seen one beach, you've seen them all. Not so. Each beach has new things to be discovered. The other day we went to Rathtrevor beach, and it was a fabulous one for finding funky pieces of drift wood.

Today, we went to Williams Beach. 

Lovely rocky, sandy expanse of land with the mountains standing watch as a backdrop. I even went in the water, it was that warm. Up to my thighs. Maybe a bit higher. I found a couple of sand dollars too! But, as it turns out, they are very fragile and I broke them. Clumsy fingers. Sadness. 

It's been an ongoing search to find one too. Last year, I was out with the Sidekick and found one washed up on shore, but it was a bit chipped and not so fancy looking. He reassured me we'd find out down at Rathtrevor but we didn't. Keep in mind, this was a year ago. And then, on Thursday when we were there, he found one, but it was alive. So, obviously, I didn't take it.

Some of you might be wondering how I knew it was alive since I am, by no means, a sand dollar expert. First, the colour, it was a dark purplish colour and all the ones I'd seen in gift shops had been white and the flower on the skeleton more prominent. After looking at the little guy and flipping it over, I noticed the fuzz on the underside of its body. Those fibres are what catch the microscopic food in the water, feeding the sand dollar and, if you look closely, you will see them moving. Cool, right? Now, if you find one that is bleached a light white colour and, when you turn it over, there are no fuzzy parts and you can see a hole in the middle, that's a dead one. 

And also, today there was a beach kitty. He showed up out of nowhere. Let me pet him and take a picture, then wander off to find another person to get pets from. 

Here I am with the beach kitty:

Anyhow, adventuring proved a success today, though I didn't find one piece of beach glass. What's up with that? Sometimes I wonder if people are ever as amazed by the world around them as I. Today I am sun-kissed, salty legged and blessed. 

Just Passing Time

They say you only live once and to live life to the fullest. To cram it with the things you love, what makes you happy, to enjoy every moment and embrace every minute. In theory, it makes a lot of sense, but who has the energy to make every second of every minute of every hour of every day count? While I truly do believe life is far too short for hate and anger and ill will towards others and that you should make the most of what you are given, it is inconceivable to never have a sad or angry or disenchanted moment, to never curl up and say, "Not today."

Life is a beautiful thing. This world is an amazing place. There are gentle, kind people around us every day, ones we know, others we don't. Strangers who are waiting for us to notice them, ready to impress upon us understanding, compassion and empathy if only given the chance. Good things happen, ones worthy of taking notice of, and there is much to learn. We have so much growing to do.  And I am ever so grateful for what I have, where I am, and all the things I can do.

Sometimes I think about all the books I will never read. All the stories I will never write. The trails I will never hike. Sights I will never see. Songs I will never know. Majestic places I will never visit. And when  I think about all the things I will miss out on, I feel this fire to get out and do, to see, feel, hear, smell, learn and experience. To conquer and thrive, to draw deep breaths, and free fall into wonderment. At my most passionate, I don't want to settle down. I refuse to stop. I go, go, go until I've walked through the deserts, danced in the stars and swam to the unexplored depths of our oceans. I want to soak up everything the Earth has to teach me, the lessons of soil and air, of fire and water. I want to burn with the sun and kiss the man on the moon.

But some days, I am not at my most passionate. Some days, I am tired. Some days I am just passing time.

It's so very easy to get distracted and lose sight of what's important. Not food, clothes, and a roof over your head, but what stokes the passion inside you. What turns the cogs in your head and sets your heart beating rampantly. Passing time isn't necessarily a bad thing. It happens organically. We set patterns in our lives, so easy to follow, and focus so intently on getting from point A to point B. Still, I feel it is important to stop the wheels of routine. To check in with our souls and make sure they are getting what they need, that we aren't overlooking them. Life is a hustler, trying to hustle us into forgetting to check in. It's always tell us what to do, when it needs to be done and how to do it. Our lives end up revolving around a clock. What time is it? When do I have be at work? What time do I get up? When is dinner? Do I have enough time to get this done? We go to bed in order to get up and do it all again.

Don't get me wrong, routine isn't all bad. It's comfortable and safe, except when it controls every facet of your life. Then it is uncomfortable and unsafe. We must be willing and ready to step out of our routines at a moment's notice and witness the wonders the world offers us. For it's when we pass time for too long that it becomes normal to just pass time, and we forget what we used to do before we were just passing time. This is what I worry over the most. That I am not living. That I am missing out.

I want to be with the ocean. In the forest. Playing outside. Going to the movie theatre. Learning things I don't have to learn. Growing strong and smart. Gazing at the stars. Reading words, fictional and not. Baking bread and cookies and cupcakes. Eating cake. Holding hands. Being kissed. Kissing beings. Making and maintaining friends. Snuggling with my fur babies. Drinking tea. Knitting gifts. Solving puzzles. And taking on a challenge.

Above all, I want to write. Words are my life. They always have been. I feel so distracted and out of sorts when I am not creating. And I know I haven't been creative enough lately, which is why I am feeling so off and worrying so much and turning my thoughts inwardly instead of outwardly. It is strange when you know something is so fundamental in your own happiness and still you cannot find the time to do it. Excuses, right? We are full of them. These daily posts do help. Despite how it may seem, I put a fair amount of thought into most of these and I take care in writing them. But they aren't fiction and that's what I truly love to create.

Perhaps this is me simply saying, "No" to just passing time.

I'm off to go kill someone. Fictionally, of course.

Warm Blankets And Fluffy Pillows

As a general rule, I hate sleepovers. When I was a teenager they were terrible. I cannot tell you how many cold, hard floors I slept upon. Even worse, paper thin pillows and flimsy blankets. It makes me wonder what the hell parents were thinking.  Where is the hospitality people?

My back hurts just thinking about those sleepless nights on dirty carpeting. Because we all know about dust mites now, and how any type of flooring is never truly clean. Let me just say, no carpeting, not even shag, is equivalent to the glorious nature of a mattress.

And why was it always so damn cold? How many times did I bury my face in my sweatshirt and pray my nose didn't fall off due to frostbite? Too many to count. Did these people not know how to work a thermostat? And these abhorrent sleepover conditions didn't exist in just one friend's home. No. They were always the same. Oh, and I distinctly remember waking up at five in the morning and staring at the ceiling waiting for my friend to wake up, who just so happened to be snug in her warm, cushy bed.

I went because I thought that was what I was supposed to do. A normal teenager thing. But how I loathed it. All I wanted was my own bed. For all the girls to shut up. To not be terrified of farting in my sleep. And to be able to get up and go pee without waking the whole house when I flushed the toilet. Not to mention stomach aches. Getting one at a sleepover sucked. No one likes pooping at anyone else's house.

I suppose the whole concept of sleepovers is fun in theory but I have back problems to this day and I blame it on those hard bedroom floors. In truth,  I still hate them and find myself wishing teleportation was all ironed out and up and running. But it isn't and there are times I have to stay at other people's houses.

Thankfully as an adult I can be more selective with who I stay with and don't feel pressured to accept sleepover requests from individuals who might stick me with a threadbare blanket or even worse, no blanket. Yep, been there, done that. The thing is, I am old. There will be no sleeping on area rugs! Paper thin pillows shall be no more!

When I cross the ocean to the mainland, the people who put me up, or put up with me, seem to genuinely care about my comfort and the general wellbeing of my back. They have fluffy pillows and warm blankets and I don't have to sleep on the floor. I like to think they too experienced the atrocious sleepover conditions of the nineties and refuse to make anyone else suffer as they did.

Whatever their reasons, they are beautiful creatures who I am eternally grateful for. Huzzah for people who understand the ingredients for a good night's sleep.