Life’s a Beach, Especially When You Don’t Have a Job!

After consuming my second cup of coffee yesterday morning, I finally glanced out the window and to my surprise, it was a beautiful sunny and warm day.
I nearly fell out of my desk chair, because as you Massachuchetsians (I just made that up!) know, we have had relatively few sunny days here in the last month.

I just googled for Massachusetts rainfall for last month, and I found this article.
http://www.wbur.org/2009/06/30/rain-impact
Yes, this would explain the demise of my basil and dill!
Also, the rainfall for June was actually LOWER than normal.
I really find that hard to believe since I can only really remember seeing the sun shine three days this past month, but then again, it’s NPR, so they must be right!
You know, you figure with the Winter we had, the Great Cat Goddess would have made sure we had a kick ass Summer, but no such luck!
My friend's (Liz) twitter: “Confidential to New Englanders: Hey, at least it's not snowing ”
Note to self: Offer more catnip to the Great Cat Goddess in hopes of a better August. I just SO hope she doesn’t want dill or basil, or I’m in trouble.

Anyway, when I saw the lovely day, I immediately thought, “Carpe Litus Diem!”
Yes, that’s right – Seize the Beach Day!
I asked Iz if she was game, and she enthusiastically gave me the thumbs up.
She does that a lot now; she's also fond of responding, after I ask her to do something, "No problemo!"

Of course, when I received the “Running?” email from Tom (I still go back to “work” to run every now and then), I replied that I couldn’t, because Iz and I were going to the beach.
Tom replied with “Show off”. :-)
Hey, there’s got to be some advantage to getting that whopping paycheck from the Unemployment office each week!

So, I told Iz to go find her, as she calls it, “babein’ suit, and I went off to pack our lunch which comprised:
· Tuna fish sandwich (for me)
· Pasta (for Iz)
· Fritos (to smash into the tuna before you eat the sandwich; please, try this at home!)
· Cheese crackers (http://www.annies.com/cheddar_bunnies; to be brutally honest, these stink! It was like eating orange cardboard. K, they’re organic, but you know what? Organic might mean “better for you”, but in this case, it does not mean “tastes better”!)
· Oreos (double stuff, cuz you can never eat too much frosting, well, this is one of my personal food beliefs along with "Life is uncertain; eat dessert first!")
· Juice boxes
· Root beer
· Fresca (I’m not usually a soda drinker, but sometimes I crave Fresca.)

This is the beach where we always go.
http://www.thetrustees.org/pages/294_crane_beach.cfm
I’ve gone here my entire life.
I LOVE this litus!
It's about an hour and 15 minutes from home.
My Mom brought us there growing up, I went there as a teen with my girlfriends, and I take my kids there now.

Crane Beach was where I celebrated my 18th birthday.
Oh, look, here’s me at 18.
Note: The woman to the left of me in the photo is none other than the writer of the 623 Tries blog! Hey, Germ! :-)



My friends made me a cake, and then we all piled into cars and headed to Crane in the middle of May.
On the way there, I remember them blasting “Little Jeannie” when it came on the radio.
Probably not one of Elton’s greatest hits, but I always liked it, because, well, err, you know why!



And there we were on my 18th birthday in the middle of an empty beach on May 18th, 1980.
This was the day Mount St. Helen erupted.
Yeah, I wanted an exciting 18th, but I wasn’t expecting a natural disaster!

Crane Beach was also the last place I took my Mom before she died.
I found something I wrote about it then when I was looking through my writing notes a few weeks ago. It starts out with a quote from my Mom.
My Mom was a nurse, so she never really minced words when it came to bodily functions, k? :-)

"It’s really rotten when your life revolves around needing to belch, having to eat, and wanting to poop."

I went to the beach last Friday with my mother. It was so beautiful! She thanked me for taking her to the beach about five times.

She starts chemo, not radical chemo, more like maintenance chemo next week. I guess she’ll be doing the chemo until it no longer helps her. She said she didn’t want to do the intense chemo, because she said, “Well, maybe I’m too vain, but I don’t want to lose my hair!” I don’t blame her. The outlook is still bleak. The doctor said it’s a slower growing cancer than he thought, so he’s given her a year now upgraded from the pre-surgery diagnosis of 6-9 months.

I told her I didn’t understand how she could live knowing she was dying. I said if it were me, I’d probably would have killed myself. She said that she had thought about it. But, she said it’s funny how you can live your life while dying. She said that not many people get a chance to square themselves with family and friends and straighten out their affairs before they die.

It was a really great day, one of those days I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

I remember sitting there on the beach thinking “Jeez, she might not be here next year.”
And then she wasn’t.

Note to Nancy: Sorry! :-) But, it was a lovely day, despite the sadness. And, I'll always remember being in that beautiful place with her.

Iz and I were all packed (Lunch – check! Sand toys – check! Sunscreen – check! Did you pee Iz? – check!) and left at 11am.
Of course, what would be a trip without a six-year-old, if you didn’t hear “How much longer til we get there, Mommy?” every 15 minutes.

The nice thing about a long car ride with a six-year-old is what I like to call the Nap Factor.
That is, the odds are pretty good that you’re going to be guaranteed 30 minutes of pre-beach non-how-much-longer-til-we-get-there-Mommy questioning and 30 minutes of post-beach non-how-much-longer-til-we-get-there-Mommy questioning.

This is what happened after the second “How much longer 'til we get there, Mommy?”



The Bedtime Factor is also aided by any beach trip.
Normally, on beach day nights, I can say at 7pm, instead of the usual 8pm, “Okay, Iz, time for bed”, and the resistance factor is half of what it usually is.

After traveling for an hour or so, we arrived at the beach, paid our $5, and parked.
It usually is $15, but since I knew I was going to be, err, very free and available this Summer, I paid $60 to become a member.
If you can’t spend the Summer in a cube working, then you might as well be a beach rat I say!

We got out of the car, and Iz was supposed to help carry things, primarily her sand toys.
Somehow, after much negotiation (and I know I should have had legal counsel there to represent me in the transaction!), I ended up carrying the beach bag, the cooler, and ALL the sand toys except for one shovel and a pail!

As we made our way to the beach, Iz started to reminisce about beach visits past.
“Revember [yes, that’s not remember; it’s reVember], the friends I met at the beach, Mom?”
“No, who were they?”
“I don’t revember, revember?”
HUH?! :-)
You know, I love the way her mind works; it’s just amazing…the things she says***, does…she never ceases to amaze or entertain me. I love my girl. <3

***Tangent Vocabulary Note: We were at the local pub for dinner tonight, and she began to draw on her place mat. She then asked me out of the blue, “The a-word isn’t a good word, is it? It’s inappropriate.”
First, it was just amazing to hear her say “inappropriate”.
Once I got over my amazement, I said, “Wait a sec, Iz. What’s the a-word????!!!”
She said in a matter of fact way, “I’ll write it down.”
I looked as she wrote the word “ass” on her placemat!
I said, “Yes, Iz. That’s inappropriate. Please scratch it out. Where did you learn that?”
“Scott. It’s not a very nice word, right? Like ding dong, ugly, and the s-word."
I was thinking “That’s it. This Scott is to steer clear of my daughter. Not only does she know the a-word, but now she knows the s-word, too!”
I asked, “What’s the s-word, Iz?!”
She started to write on her placemat again.
I looked, fearing the worst, and then saw that she had written “stoopid”.
Phew.

Anyway, after a 10 minute walk, we found a good spot and plunked our stuff down in the sand.
Before I could spread the blanket out, Iz shot down to the beach and was in the water.
The water was a WARM 54 degrees.

What is this Cold Fearless Factor most kids have?
I have seen it with Nathan.
It's the ability of those in the age range of 12 to 22 to dress totally inappropriately when it's 32 degrees outside and survive without complaint or frostbite!
In the Winter, when I drive by the bus stops in town, I see kids wearing only hoodies and shorts waiting in FREEZING temperatures dressed like they're going to Florida for Spring Break instead of to school in frigid Massachusetts.
I spent $150 on an L.L.Bean snow parka for Nathan two years ago, and you know what he said?
"It's too puffy."
He's never worn it.
Instead, during the Winter, he wears a light-weight Columbia jacket or sweatshirt to school every day.
All I can figure is that they must be given an extra layer of fat that disappears in their mid to late 20s, huh?

Anyway, after I got settled, Iz came up from the water and kept asking me to go in.
And, I told her I would in, um, a few minutes.
Of course, I knew a few minutes would more likely be 30, 40, or, err, NEVER!
I hate the water when it’s that cold!

Iz kept coaxing me.
“Mom, it’s warm. Mom, seriously, it’s WICKED warm!!”
I finally gave in and wandered down to the water with her.
I got my feet in, and she seemed pretty happy.
Then she started to try to convince me to come further into the water.
It was almost like she was trying to say, "Mom, I know it’s 54, but really, it feels like 64; trust me." :-)
Then she said, “See, Mommy,” moving further out in the water, “If you come out here, it’s much warmer!”
I always thought Iz might be a veterinarian, but these days, especially after the sand toy negotiations in the parking lot, I do believe she might end up in business.
She asked, “Isn’t it nice, Mom?”
I said, “Yes, now that my feet are numb, it’s great, Iz!”

After I was released early from time served in the freezing Atlantic by Miss Iz, I headed up to the blanket to eat my tuna fish sandwich and write.
Write what?
Well, you know…whatever comes to my mind as usual. :-)
Have pen and pad…will write on the beach!



Iz came up to eat her pasta eventually, and then she had her Oreos.
See!



At one point, she asked for a root beer.
I said, “Here you go, crazy girl.”
She said, “No, you’re a crazy woman.”
Hey, do we know each other well or what?

After lunch she went right back down to the water.
Activities included swimming, seagull chasing, digging, water collection, and fish hunting.

Here she is digging to China.



Here’s some water collection to put in the above mentioned hole that was China bound.



At one point, Iz made the announcement, “Mommy, I have to go potty.”
I said, “Um, err.”
The beach is a good 10-minute walk from the bathrooms.
She could see the potty dilemma written all over my face, because before I could answer her question, she did.
She said, “Mommy, it’s okay to pee in the ocean, right? Because I’ve done that before!”
I said, “Yes, Iz. That’s okay. Go for it, but just don’t do it near any people, okay?”

Here’s an “after” swimming shot.



And, this was usually the point, when she decided it was time to give me a big hug with those cold Atlantic Ocean paws of hers!

Every now and then, I’d see her come out of the water, start to walk up, and then look puzzled.
She had moved down the beach a bit while swimming.
At these moments, I shouted “Isabelle, here!”, so she could navigate her way back to the beach area directly in front of me.
I then thought…isn’t that probably one of the nicest feelings?
To look for someone, especially someone like your Mom, and then always know that you’ll find her there watching and waiting for you.

Oh, and here’s what my feet were doing!



At one point, she brought back her bucket and exclaimed, “Look, I got a little fish!”
I looked, and for the life of me, I couldn’t see a thing except sand, water, and a bunch of brown dots.
She said, “Here!” and thrust her finger at one of those small brown dots.
I looked really hard this time, and this small brown dot moved.
It was a teeny tiny something that looked like a bug flitting around in the bucket.
I don’t know if it was a “fish”, but it was some kind of living creature.

She said, “I’m going back down to swim. Will you watch my fish? Her name is Sally.”
I told her I would, and as she turned to go, she said, “Don’t forget to feed her, okay?”
Feed her?!
I was going to ask how I would ever do that, but instead, I just said, “Okay!”
You learn this over time when you have small children; you don't question some things, you just say "Okay!"
She then pointed to some small scrap of seaweed in the bucket and said, “That’s her food!”
I said I would make sure Sally was okay while she was gone.
She said, “Thanks, Mom. Sally likes you.”

She ran off back down to the water.
In about 30 minutes, she was backing asking me to check out the tide pool she had created and announced that Sally was going in the tide pool.
She then glanced in the bucket.
“Mom, where is she?!?!?!”
I peered in and tried to locate the almost microscopic Sally.
I said, “Um, she was just here when I checked a few minutes ago!”
It was really more like 20 minutes ago, but after all, this was just a microscopic fish/bug thingy named Sally.
Iz yelled, “That’s why I asked you to check her!!!”
Wow, have you ever been scolded by a six-year-old?
Ouch.
I said, feeling like a six-year-old who had just been accused of not flushing the toilet, “But, I did! I did!”
Iz took another look, and she then said, “Oh, there she is” pointing to a small brown dot.
Phew!
“Let’s go down to the tide pool and put her in.”
I was glad to see Sally go, primarily because I hated caring for something I couldn’t see!
Anyway, we went down to the tide pool, Iz lifted the bucket, and in went Sally, or, err, the Ghost of Sally Past.

At 4pm, I told Iz it was time to pack up, because we were sure to hit traffic.
Little did I know the fun commute that awaited us.
Right after we got on Route 128 South, the two-lane highway went down to one-lane, and it took us an hour to travel about three miles.
Fortunately, right before we got on the highway, Iz picked up her blanket, leaned her head against the window, started to suck her thumb, and was snoozed in about 5 minutes.
Nap Factor!

Here are the three stages of the car snooze.

This is the first phase – sucking the thumb while holding the blanket close and stroking it with the fingers.



This is the second phase – still holding the blanket close while the thumb has dropped out of the mouth but is still close by just in case.



This is the third phase – the thumb has totally dropped out of sight because of total and utter snoozedom!



Thankfully, this nap lasted all through the nasty backup.
Hey, swimming, seagull chasing, digging, water collection, and fish hunting is tough work!

We stopped halfway home. And, I bought a cell phone charger, because my phone was dying a miserable battery death, and I didn’t want to continue home without some way to call for help, if needed.
On impulse (err, again, a weakness not a strength!), I went to Target and bought a beach chair.
I’ve never owned one before.
Believe it or not.
Of course, based on the weather today (a BIG thunderstorm, complete with lightening that had Monty barking; yes, foxes do bark!) I can see today that said beach chair purchase immediately jinxed the week’s weather.
And I think that I’m beginning to develop a vitamin D deficiency from the lack of sun here!

As you’ve probably already guessed, I love the ocean; it’s one of my favorite places.
When I die, I don’t want a headstone.
Yeah, I know. Gasp!
I want half my ashes scattered across Cisco Beach in Nantucket (my favorite beach there) and the other half scattered across Crane Beach in Ipswich……………….while “Little Jeannie” plays, of course. :-)

The best part of the whole day was when we were almost home, and Iz said, “Mommy?”
I said, “What, Iz?”
“Thanks for taking me to the beach today.”
“You’re welcome, Iz.”
Hopefully, when she gets older, and perhaps some day when I'm no longer around, she will always remember the lovely days she spent at Crane Beach with her Mom.