Tag: painting
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Fishing
“Where’s your husband?” asks a stocky, mustachioed man halting before me. He holds a long fishing rod in one hand. With a mouth full of burrito de machaca, I gesture to the butcher shop across the street. He moves on down the Loreto sidewalk, twirling his reel. It’s hot, but I’m too hungry to find…
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Swingin’ on a (Gulf)Star
To get to Habibi, you must pass Enchantment, Namaste, Alley Cat, and Go Dog Go! Every single time I return to her — from swimming or grocery shopping or marina business — I grin, relieved she’s still floating, amazed that she’s mine. Yep, it’s dawning on me that, after 42 years of searching, I finally…
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Hilary
My mother did not evacuate New Orleans before Katrina hit and the levees failed. She hunkered down in the first floor bathtub. She had cleared out — unnecessarily, in hindsight — many times before, she explained, so she decided to stay. “River of misery,” she saw afterwards. Followed by “river of joy,” the following Mardi…
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Breathe
“When the ball comes fast — breathe.” This I heard in a San Diego park, near tennis courts, and recognized the instructor’s good advice. The balls are coming fast these days in this noisy marina on the Sea of Cortez: contracts to sign, settlement statements to question, stolen credit card numbers to report, a fallen…
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Come Sail Away
Sometimes it takes a long time to get back to all right. Been ten years since I exited Olympia and began looking for a home by the sea. Took awhile to realize I could choose a boat instead of a house. Today I wired a 10% deposit on Habibi and contacted a marine surveyor to…
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Round & Round
Sometimes I get frustrated with my indirect, repetitive routes. Up and down California, before I can retrieve the tiny house. Roundabout Oregon before deciding not to live there. Across the country to save my mother, who didn’t want to be saved. Up and down Baja wondering what I’m doing with my life. All this traveling…
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La Bolsa Roja
Cabo Pulmo is known as a primo snorkel spot, so early one morning I drove over and set out down the beach. I found a sandy spot to enter and donned my gear, putting land clothes in a brilliant red drawstring knapsack up on a dune. The bay was murky and cool. Every so often…
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Tolerance
A not-so-kindly sailor answered my ad for a sailing instructor. His second email was patronizing and disrespectful (if that’s not redundant), which shocked me. I’m always shocked by contempt. It takes awhile to believe it, and then to remember that their behavior has nothing to do with me. It is learned. My mother’s brother once…
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False Urgency
“Beware of false urgency,” warned my bank in a scam alert. An excellent reminder. Is it really necessary to visit five stores for six items, three of which I don’t need right now? I strive for efficiency while wearing myself out. What’s the priority? And when does fun come into play, let alone rest? Coolant…
