Yesterday morning I had to get out of bed at 5:30 a.m. That’s 5:30 in the dark hours of morning. That’s a time I’m quite certain was not meant for man. It was for a good reason – taking a friend to an early appointment – but it resulted in a rather animated discussion between myself and I. Myself was protesting, feeling that no one should be up when the skies are still the black of night. Myself was claiming it was unfair that I was requiring it to do so. I told myself that it’s good for it to sometimes do something that it didn’t like, and it was for a good reason. Myself continued to protest, claiming myself had earned the right to get up when the skies were lighter and to move with a studied slowness through the morning, before myself was required to actually perform like a human. I know to pick my battles, because myself can become petulant and difficult to deal with, so I chose to ignore myself, and move on with my morning. Result was that both myself and I survived that early rising, although we did nap a bit more than usual later in the day.
Watching an HGTV show last night, one of those where the very industrious and ambitious, not to mention attractive, couples finds old broken houses, and turns them back into the queens of the neighborhood in no time flat, succeeding in making quite a good profit. In this particular case, the female of the couple is very pregnant, and although the renovation purportedly took 60 days, her pregnancy looked to be at the point of delivery at the beginning of the 60 days, and I spent my half hour feeling badly for her that she had to be so very large for such a long time. And continue to be so very large for such a long time during the next episode where they turned one more dilapidated structure into the queen of another neighborhood. I’m pretty sure I would not have tolerated a pregnancy that kept me at gotta be going to deliver any moment stage for so very many months.
The weather is making it apparent that we are heading to another winter. How can that possibly be? Didn’t we just get over a winter? Can’t have been that long ago, because it remains quite vivid in my mind. So where the heck is my lottery win (the one I’m going to win without having to actually buy tickets) so that I can buy myself a winter on a warmer coastline, one that allows walks on the beaches whenever I choose. It would be a good test to see if I can tolerate winters that are gray, foggy, and rainy better than I tolerate those that are gray, colder, snowy, and more gray. Or black and white. In the winter our Ponderosa Pines, those that are green in warmer months, appear black against the white of the snow and light gray of the skies. Uh oh. It’s not even here yet, and already I’m complaining. It could be a long winter.
Now you’re wondering what any of this has to do with salt water rivers, aren’t you? Well, nothing, now that you ask. I do have a little story about salt water rivers. One I hesitate to share, because you will come away from hearing it wondering about my intelligence – if, indeed, I have any intelligence. But since I’ve teased you with the headline, I suppose it only fair to tell you the story.
When I am a passenger in a moving vehicle, when I am required to do nothing but sit there and let my mind wander, my mind does exactly that. Wander. Into the clouds. Away. Rendering it completely useless. Do not ask it to put together cohesive, reasonable thoughts. The result was a time when husband was driving us north on the western coastal highway 1, high above the ocean, providing a beautiful view of the ocean and the coastline. I had the map on my lap, being navigator (although he didn’t listen to what I said, because he had experience with my navigating abilities), and noticing all the rivers connecting to the ocean along the coast. My thought process – if it can be called a thought process – flowed down through my vocal chords and triggered my facial muscles to open my mouth, so these words could pass through, out to the open air where they could be heard – “those rivers must be salt water, since the ocean water is flowing into them”. Those words were followed by a very brief period of silence. Laughter ensued. Hearty, loud, laughter. And the story was remembered to be shared with one and all when we arrived where one and all were. Frequently. Over a period of years. Yep, “Vera”* and her salt water rivers.
*The Vera reference came from the TV show at the time called Mel’s Diner – one of the waitresses at Mel’s Diner was a lovely lady, gentle and sweet, and less than bright. She was named Vera.
Now to share, with more to say about this later, my most recent tile destined to become useful for display or as a trivet.
Seems to be a recurring theme for me of late – skies, mountains, water.