St. Maarten

Island life. I was healthy enough (grateful for prayers) to head off the ship today for our planned kayaking/snorkeling tour. I was so thankful as it was terrific to see another country (St. Maarten – the Dutch half) since I am, after all, floating around the Caribbean. As so many of these small islands are, it is diverse. One can easily see the ‘have’ and the ‘have nots’ coexisting. As a cruise ship passenger, I was a bit uncomfortable with my role as a ‘have.’ I took it upon myself to be cheerful and pleasant and to pay prices that help the locals earn a living rather than trying to get the best ‘deal’ by haggling. Not that it mattered much as I hardly shopped at all and I haven’t spent a penny on food outside of the ship. Why bother when the ship food is excellent and abundant.

The nationals are used to the rhythms. Mid morning flocks of tourists disembark to either find their tour or pay the stated price for “Chair, Umbrella and 2 Beers.” Not being a beach sitting type, the allure escapes me. I did find the whole scene fascinating, though. We are on a huge ship and the one in port next to us was a great deal larger. It seems like madness on the sea to continue to build bigger ships. May as well create a floating island with settlements that get pushed around by barges. (My billion dollar idea?)

I’d have to brush up on the history of St. Maarten to understand the very moving sculpture in the middle of one roundabout of a man (a slave I presume?) with his hands spread in freedom, chains dangling from his arms. More sculptures presented themselves on our slow drive from the cruise pier to kayaking cove. There was one of salt mine workers and one of a famous traffic director. Wikipedia, here I come once I don’t have to pay far too much for internet connection! Nice public art in the midst of poverty.

The weather? Picture perfect with the azure sea at every turn and hot breezes messing up everyone’s hair. Lots of sunscreen for me and my daughter as we headed out to the water. I have not kayaked on the sea before. And, the guides would hardly call our little kayaking ‘adventure’ sea kayaking. Poor guys have to make a living being clever and teaching the same basic paddling skills to underskilled and overfed cruise ship patrons day after day after day. The seemed patient enough and their British accents would surely cover up any irritation if they had any at all. We had fun in the sun paddling nonetheless. That’s the idea. We snorkeled after a short paddle. It was unspectacular, but fun to see a little bit of coral and some colorful fish in the murky water. I got a tad seasick after a while from floating on all the swells, but being out there with my daughter for her first time snorkeling was worth it.

I’d put up some photos of the water, but I have no idea how to get them from camera onto computer, so stop holding your breath. (I’ve been told Apples are user friendly. Hmm…. Not when it comes to THIS Apple and finding the illusive iPhoto. Nothing pops up that is of any help in getting my photos transferred from the camera. In the very least I expected Apple to send me a note: “HEY CHICK, YOU’VE CONNECTED A CAMERA TO YOUR COMPUTER. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH THE IMAGES?” but, nooo, nothing!)

Maybe one of the kind guys from Honduras or Hong Kong in the iLounge on Level 6 can help me figure it out when they are open tomorrow. We are at sea for the next two days. Since I’m not a big partier, my introvert self can enjoy some reading time and figuring out how to deal with my photos as the calming sway of the ship carries us back to the USA.

Sidelined at Sea

I have a knack. Oh, I suppose I have several of them, but this one if just plain irritating. All too often when I am on vacation, I get sick. Not that, “oh-I-am-feeling-a little-under-the-weather” kind of illness, but the full-fledged, “all-this-has-got-to-come-out-of-me” kind. And, so, it has happened once again. The other night, I became far too acquainted with the teeny stateroom bathroom on our cruise ship. A nice little bathroom, of course, which comes in handy, but it wasn’t the spot I had hoped to spend most of the night.

Our cruise line had a few too many cases of this sort reported on the last sailing, so our departure was delayed by thorough disinfecting of everything. In fact, the first thing with which we were welcomed aboard was a generous squirt of Purell, followed by champagne. There are also many ship attendants who are spending many hours dispensing Purell pretty much everywhere. Their dream job, I’m sure!

But, alas, that extra attention to disinfecting failed to be communicated to my system. Too bad. As the cruise lines are particularly sensitive to the topic of “noroviruses,” I was confined to my stateroom for 24 hours. That confinement is why I am currently blogging away rather than seeing tonight’s show or out feeling the Caribbean breezes on my face. I could not have gone anywhere anyway and I have learned a great lesson: never cruise in an inner cabin. Had I been in one, I would not have seen any of today’s brilliant sunshine or the extravagant yachts beside which we were docked. I would not only have been ill, but felt as though I had been confined to a dungeon—one that I paid big bucks to inhabit! The balcony decision was for Mom’s pleasant travels, but it has ended up benefitting me greatly.

I made the best of a bad thing. Missing the trip to the St. Thomas beach was quite a disappointment to me, but sometimes you gotta just roll with what shows up. Instead, I opened the balcony door and kept it open all day watching the sun travel across the sky, glinting off yacht mirrors here and there until it faded behind a small island as we left port, only a couple of hours ago. I’m feeling better at least and I really, really want to be able to kayak tomorrow at our next port. I can’t imagine the outing will be ‘strenuous’ anyway, as it appears cruising in general is created to be indulgent and anything but strenuous. Lord willing, the stateroom bathroom will perform only it’s regular duty this evening and all will be well.

Spring Break

Tonight I am surrounded by palm trees, warm breezes, a huge full moon, lots of southern Florida traffic and my daughter and my mother. This is all new, that’s for sure. Heading out to sea on a floating city tomorrow, the likes of which I have never set foot upon before. Fresh adventures for the women of my family. It is, in fact, an amazing thing that this experience is something new for me, the fifty something; mom, the seventy something; and daughter, the twenty something. There aren’t too many things we could choose that would put us all on equal footing as far as knowing what to expect ahead of time. Our common experience of discovering something new altogether will no doubt solidify our bond.

Today’s other first time travel experience for me was be the official escort for a ‘disabled traveler.’ Mom was understandably apprehensive about such a long journey accomplished through very little power of her own. She was pushed along by the kind Delta pushers who were far more adept at driving a wheel chair than I am at this point! I complimented them on their obvious skills and made mental notes of my own: “When entering an elevator, take yourself and the wheelchair rider in backwards.” “When managing luggage and wheelchair user in the middle of traffic—airport or hotel parking—care for the wheelchair user FIRST and then deal with the luggage!” “When heading down jet way ramps, take rider facing up the ramp so if a sudden bump is encountered, said rider will not fly forward and land on the jet way headfirst!” This is obviously going to be an educational vacation for me, as well as warm and breezy!

Mom fared well, though she is weary. She kept saying “I can’t believe this!” and then smiling which was a joy to see. Her take on this journey and her seeming unreadiness to undertake it, was that the Lord kept saying to her “Trust Me on this one. I’m going to make it work out!” So far, so good. (Thank you, Lord) All we have yet to do is transport ourselves and far too much luggage onto the cruise ship and into our teeny weeny staterooms with the sea views.

I really don’t know what to expect, but I eagerly anticipate all the new things we will see and experience at the cruise port tomorrow. Bon voyage!

Cruisin' the Caribbean

Having never cruised before, I was caught off guard by the international flavor of this type of travel. I guess that since our port of departure was in Florida, I expected the ship to be staffed by Americans and the guests to be the same. This is not at all the case. We are a veritable Floating UN, as are many other ships, I suspect.

Name tags spell out the unpronounceable staff names of those who serve us as well as their homeland. I love this! Traveling with me are individuals from Romania (the nurse who tended to me), Philippines (our waiter each evening who is enjoying flirting with my almost 21 year old daughter), Peru (the bread guy at dinner whom I also saw selling beverage packages), India, Canada and Macedonia to name a few. The captain, in fact, when proposing a toast at the Captain’s Toast event (a tad cheesy to me) said that the staff of over 1,000 represents 64 nations, and the guests numbering 2,800 represent 44. I find this amazing as we float along the sea this evening.

Folks are helpful and speak some version of English. This has posed my greatest challenge, however. On the phone today, trying to order Gatorade via room service I was asked several questions to which I replied with a sentence that may or may not have had any relationship to the question asked! So be it. The Gatorade eventually materialized at my door, so the language/accent/hearing disability barrier is can be overcome.

Knowing bits and pieces of a few languages, I tried to ask a couple of ladies on the elevator at a slightly frenetic moment disembarking at one port what language they spoke to see if I could be of more help switching out of English. They were too captured by the moment, or their English too limited for me to be of any assistance since they never said “Portugese” or “Itailiano.”

Would that the whole world could function like the 64 / 44 nations on a cruise ship! Living on earth would be a lot more gracious.

Cruisin' the Caribbean

Having never cruised before, I was caught off guard by the international flavor of this type of travel. I guess that since our port of departure was in Florida, I expected the ship to be staffed by Americans and the guests to be the same. This is not at all the case. We are a veritable Floating UN, as are many other ships, I suspect.

Name tags spell out the unpronounceable staff names of those who serve us as well as their homeland. I love this! Traveling with me are individuals from Romania (the nurse who tended to me), Philippines (our waiter each evening who is enjoying flirting with my almost 21 year old daughter), Peru (the bread guy at dinner whom I also saw selling beverage packages), India, Canada and Macedonia to name a few. The captain, in fact, when proposing a toast at the Captain’s Toast event (a tad cheesy to me) said that the staff of over 1,000 represents 64 nations, and the guests numbering 2,800 represent 44. I find this amazing as we float along the sea this evening.

Folks are helpful and speak some version of English. This has posed my greatest challenge, however. On the phone today, trying to order Gatorade via room service I was asked several questions to which I replied with a sentence that may or may not have had any relationship to the question asked! So be it. The Gatorade eventually materialized at my door, so the language/accent/hearing disability barrier is can be overcome.

Knowing bits and pieces of a few languages, I tried to ask a couple of ladies on the elevator at a slightly frenetic moment disembarking at one port what language they spoke to see if I could be of more help switching out of English. They were too captured by the moment, or their English too limited for me to be of any assistance since they never said “Portugese” or “Itailiano.”

Would that the whole world could function like the 64 / 44 nations on a cruise ship! Living on earth would be a lot more gracious.

Granite

No photos yet. I am in the process of contemplating which granite to choose for the kitchen counters and for the island. The same one? Different ones? Contrast? Drama? (no) So many choices!

Having never shopped for granite before, I have been amazed and delighted at the options that exist. The colors, swirls ("drag," I guess it is called), mica, shimmery gold chips and array of patterns is astounding. To think the sheets of polished granite were once secrets hidden in the ground all gray and rough, covered in dirt. WHO discovered that pulling this stone from the bowels of the earth and polishing it would yield such glorious results?!

It is another of God's hidden wonders. Who knew. He creates the sunsets we take delight in, but under the surface, he creates this magical world of beautiful stone. No doubt we have discovered merely a hint of the jewels that lay in the earth. He must smile and take pleasure in their creation and then find that pleasure is increased with every discovery we make and delight in.

Assuming one or two slabs of granite end up gracing our kitchen cabinetry, it will be for me a small artistic miracle from the hand of God that I'll enjoy daily.

Potential

It's been a whirlwind of activity at my house. Inside and out. The inside comes from my scurrying about packing and getting ready to fly south for a couple of weeks. The outside comes from the 'worker guys' (as my now teenage son used to call the skilled construction workers who came to build a kitchen at our old house) who can envision something from nothing.

I am impressed by their knowledge and skill in so many areas. The greatest, perhaps, is paying attention to the order in which every task needs to be completed. Skipping a task is not an option. I need not expound further...

I did, however, take the opportunity in the last snow to take a few 'construction art shots,' the compilation which I have named "Construction au Printemps," presented here for you viewing pleasure.

Meanwhile. I am leaving the cold gray skies for a little splashing in the Caribbean. If I can afford the internet connection fees on the ship, I shall post some Blue Water Sunny Sky musings. If not, when I get back there will be plenty to share. The kitchen potential will be furthered with WALLS appearing and ocean photos will hopefully find their way from my mind to my camera to my computer to my blog.

Under Construction

Still Life with Saw Horses

Concrete Art

The (notso) Big Dig

We've been making plans all winter long. Presumably spring is near and so our contractor bravely began construction on a new addition (fondly called 'the Hearth Room') and new kitchen. Four days into it and they have demolished a small, ancient addition to the old kitchen and the balcony that was above it; dug the foundation after waiting for significant rain to end; then poured the footers. Wow! No small miracle this early in March!

The new false wall in the kitchen blocks out the current mess and chaos, so I have no complaints. We'll see just how this 'little project' feels when they begin to demolish the current kitchen and a couple of inside walls! (My heading to the Caribbean is a couple of weeks too early to avoid that, I'm afraid!) I am likely to have complaints. But, alas, I am told it will be worth it in the end.

On a more philosophical note. Our house is already big. Too big if we neglect to share it with others in the future who may need some housing, though we know not who, nor when. Yet, the kitchen is the heart of the home and the heart of this kitchen quit beating years ago! It was high time we provided a significant pace maker.

Knowing this, we had a hard question to ask: Are we redoing the kitchen to make the house sale able in the future, or are we redoing the kitchen for US and for our family into the future? This necessitated my husband and I take a serious look at our current calling and place. Was God saying to us, "Time to move on or Time to stay put?" And, staying put (the answer) means we have to quit imagining ourselves weekly gathering huge, cheap bouquets of flowers from Pike Place Market, or hiking up to our favorite mountain lakes after work on the long days of summer. "Bloom where you are planted," so the old, tired saying goes!

We've already been planted here for years and years. In fact, we've already bloomed for several seasons as well, but alas, apparently and gratefully, there are more to come. A funny thing happened to each of us independently of the other once we renewed our commitment to staying put. Subtly our appreciation for our surroundings grew!

We started to mentally note and list the benefits of living in this area, not the least of which is that our community of friends is right here! Housing prices enable us to live in a gigantic house that would cost over a million bucks in some parts of the country. A fifteen minute drive takes us into a National Park with great bike trails and herons that come to roost every March. Farmer's markets are growing and the CSA we belong to produces a delightful abundance of fresh produce every summer. And the list keeps growing and growing.

This, to me, is part of the Abundant Life that Jesus talks about and promises to us. Seeing abundance all around, and living and breathing it. Growing more content to be 'blooming where we are planted" and watching the list of positives enlarge.

We also happen to be employing some fine people and will end up with a kitchen where the heart beat is strong and loud. We'll be able to invite others in to share wine around the new fireplace and play cards late into the night. We'll let them help us add to the list to make sure it keeps growing and growing...

RAIN

I love rainy days. If there is any positive aspect to the onset of spring (a season which is still in question in NE Ohio) it is gloomy, drippy Saturdays such as the one we are now experiencing.




I say so with the full awareness that the river across the street and through the woods from my home is well above flood stage and many of my NE Ohio neighbors are cursing the addition of more water from the sky. So, I DO give thanks today that in my 1919 home, the basement remains dry... a blessing I do not take lightly. That said, I love the rain.

When I wake up to more than one sunny day in a row I start to feel uncomfortable, as if something is just NOT RIGHT in the world. I live in the cloud laden section of Ohio which tops Seattle in the number of cloudy days we endure. My friends and neighbors battle with SAD every winter. I'm sure I am in need of double doses of vitamin D. And yet, too many sunny days messes with my head. Funny isn't it? The weather can't be that happy for that long or something is amiss!

Living in Colorado during my early adulthood I loved the abundant sunshine, but I also loved waking up to mountains days where the surrounding peaks were engulfed in clouds and fog for the whole day. It added mystery. It allowed for the melancholy and reflection of one's soul to flourish. Maybe it is as much diversity in the weather which taps into the diverse sections of my soul as much as it is the clouds and rain.

Where you end up living starts to shape your DNA (and that of your offspring.) My kids won't even consider living in the south for college where the winters are warm and the sun shines! While my daughter in college in Seattle complains about the rain and clouds, she complains MORE about the lack of snow. Meanwhile, she has grown to appreciate the positive aspects of rain boots which college coeds wear all the time out there out of necessity, not merely fashion!

And my son? Considering schools below the Mason Dixon line is flat out. No snow. Too much sun. His current choice: Boston. That for lots of reasons, but the weather IS part of it. That seasonally shaped DNA. I hope they don't ever curse us for their weather history. I also hope they don't end up living in Hawaii or some other ungodly, perpetually sunny location!

Today is the perfect day for writing on one's blog. For designing digital photography pages, for choosing paint colors for the new kitchen. The cloudy light is just right! I wouldn't want sunshine to mess up my choices.

Snow Geese

I will admit it. I am a birder. The info is lacking from my blog profile and from my Facebook profile, but it's true. I think birds are one of God's Top Ten. Finding them is like a treasure hunt and I take great delight in observing their personalities and behaviors. I have a loosely compiled life list. I enjoy discovering birds on my travels, though I will admit, I have yet to travel FOR the birds. Except the snow geese. I traveled to Skagit Valley in Washington to find them. (Never mind the fact that I was out there already visiting family!)

I keep my bird feeder full some of the time. I take my binoculars hiking a lot of the time and I wait for the perfect bird photograph pretty much none of the time. I'm not a particularly patient photographer. Therefore, upon encountering thousands of snow geese in Skagit Valley during migration, I was in bird heaven! No photography patience needed. The birds were everywhere and the photos ops were more than abundant.

We had to search a bit to find said geese as you never know which field they will be spending the day in, nor if they will even be there. We spotted them off in the distance looking like a picket fence. However, we knew that white picket fences are not the norm on Skagit Valley farms, so off we went to find roads that took us closer and closer. Jackpot! We ended up on a country road in between two fields populated with these noisy characters.

Laughing ensued! How can one not be filled with delight in being surrounded by frenzied feathers flying furiously! It was so much fun. Even when I felt something fall on my shoulder, I was still having fun. I was traveling with Dad. "Dad, did a goose just poop on me?" "Eewww...why yes, yes he/she did." Clean again in no time, ready for another 100 photos. (Nice of me to chose only six to share, isn't it?)

We never did figure out what made them all take off in one huge raucous swarm, but being in the midst of them as their wings clattered and their honking crescendo-ed, we were awestruck. The noise was deafening, but in a grand and glorious way, even for one who is nearing deafness, as I am.

If my travels take me back to Washington during migration of the snow geese and trumpeter swans again, as I hope they will, to the Skagit Valley I will go. If my travels take me there a tad later in the spring the consolation prize will be acres and acres of tulips. (Some which are exported to Holland, but don't tell anyone...) Fields everywhere hold treasure hunts of birds and flowers, but rare are the moments as dramatic and scenic as in the shadow of Mt. Baker on a clear day when the snow geese are flying!