Sunday Homesick

Another bright sunny day after some grayness, cool air, and clouds burned off and I've got cabin fever. On our trek
to the store with happy dog in tow, husband asked me if I wanted to go home today. "I won't do that to you," I told
him. To husband who has been coming up here since the 1950s, this island is a treat and his spiritual home.

While I love water and trees and rocks-- all of which are plentiful here-- this trip has had its difficulties for me.
For one thing, we are without a car on the island itself. That immediately eliminates some of the places I like to
visit such as The Hook with its' sandbar and walk over to Little Chebeague, Rose's Point, and Chandlers' cove. Add
to that the lack of internet signal at the cottage, no access to support groups, and no television (never mind cable)
and I feel effectively isolated from the world at large. I miss my friends.

This week has been remarkable in that my trouble with remembering faces since my accident (the official word is
pronoscopia) is pronounced. I remember names and things about people. Once I am told the name of someone, I can put
that into a context. That part is good. What is not good is the not knowing. I can recognize the too-thin woman
next door sitting on her deck reading a book for instance. But if she dons a hat and sunglasses and heads for the
beach on the cousins' right-of-way, I have to ask her if I know her or if she is just another lost tourist from the
hotel. Even husband has noticed the pronoscopia this week, enough to comment on it.

Normally when here, we have two weekends and a week in the middle, thus we would have been on the road back home
today. But we are not. Also, usually mother-in-law is in residence along with her car that she has freighted over
from the mainland. That will not be occuring til Thursday as husband is driving her and her car up on Wednesday. At
any rate, a nap on the couch with the younger cat snoozing with me and a look at the morning paper has taken the edge
off my cabin fever for the moment.

***

How quickly things can change in the space of a couple of hours. This afternoon we took the dog down to Hamilton
Beach as the tide was midway between high point and low point. She enjoyed trotting through the water, racing around
in the sand, and going up the steps from the beach to the yards of various people uninvited. I got husband to sit
on a log for a few minutes while I enjoyed watching some ducks bob up and down with the waves along the reef. Don't
know what kind of ducks as they all looked black against the sun and the sky.

Back at home I was treated to the sight of the younger cat standing up against the back of the old gray chair in the
living room, all puffed out, and staring intensely at a kit walking up mosquito alley. I can't say if it was the
same kit we saw earlier in the week or not by someone's bird feeder. But it did make me glad that our cats are
indoor cats despite their protestations. Cats are looked upon as a yummy meal by red foxes. And with the kits,
sooner or later instinct is bound to kick in.

Husband's sisters called, back from a sojourn with their mother to a college reunion. Mother-in-law's oldest cat--
who is 18 years old-- stopped eating and was delivered to the vet before they left on their trip. No word yet on
whether or not he is still among the living but I suspect not, or not for long. Along with that, now her car "has
to be fixed." Husband did not ask exactly what has to be fixed, when it broke, or if she has a set appointment yet.
This has changed her plans. Now it seems as if my husband will not be driving her up to Maine in her car on
Wednesday. The current plans are that she and her car will be driven up by the more local of the two sisters on
Saturday. That sister asked my husband if he would stay here until Saturday in order to meet her and their mother
at the boat. Then husband could get his mother settled in while sister bikes over to another dock to meet another
boat to take her to another island where she and her family have rented a house for a week. Then husband could
proceed back to the mainland on boat and bus and then drive home. I was not crazy about the idea of staying here til
Saturday. We had plans and now they are being rearranged. I miss my friends, my routine, my internet, my teevee,
my home and deck and garden. I want to go home.

At any rate over dinner husband decided he really didn't want to stay until Saturday. There are several obstacles in
the way of doing that. He doesn't have enough blood pressure medicine to last through Saturday morning. It's
fifteen extra bucks a night for the car to stay in the parking lot. We would have to go to town (on the mainland)
tomorrow to buy more food. The round-trip for both of us is twenty bucks. Island living and even island visiting
is expensive. I would have been willing to stay a couple more days if husband wished it but not a whole week longer.

So far we are going home Tuesday as planned. If at some point he decides to stay until Saturday, I'm out of here.

Saturday Lobster

Today started early. Wild dog woke me up at 5:30 so I walked her up and down the road in my nightclothes. (She
ignored me last night and ran off so this morning she got the lead). The mosquitos were a lively bunch today. I
grumbled a bit, ate some breakfast then, and went back to bed for a few more hours.

Husband, dog, and I walked up to the dock and then through the woods to some of the golf course tees. It was early
morning as well as early season so consequently we saw only four golfers. The golf course is a full 18 holes and
I guess it comes highly recommended. Back home via mosquito alley.

After lunch I took the dog out walking again. We went down the public access road to the beach. Dog got to run
then. We found three other dogs (one of them being Phil the puppy from up the road) and three younger folks with
them. I almost said kids but the twenty-somethings don't like that. At any rate, the young man with Phil had to
be reminded that my dog and his knew each other already as he was panicking. The two young women-- one had a lab
mixed with something heavier possible staffordshire, and the other a yellow lab-- were asking one dog where "his"
stick was.

I found a stick and threw it in the water several times, much to the delight of the three other dogs. My dog
followed along plunging into the water cuz her doggie buddies were doing it. But it was clear to me that she would
have preferred not to chase sticks as usually after the second time I toss something away she figures I mustn't
really want it. But she got wet and got to see other dogs be excited about sticks. The four had a romp on the
beach and then the young folks and their dogs wandered away.

I couldn't help but wonder if my sudden appearance had interrupted a would-be session of pot-smoking or something.
Even so, the young people were nice enough. Part of me wanted to say to them, "Look, I was young once too." But
that sounded lame. So I didn't. At any rate it doesn't really matter.

Dog and I wandered back along the beach toward the cousins'. We saw an older woman sitting on a rock reading a
newspaper in the breeze. Dog spied what must have been her lunch in a plastic bag. With firm encouragement, the
dog came away and the woman was spared her own food. There was a lone gull on a rock by the point. The tide was
heading out but the eiders were not to be found yet. We come back up the stairs between the cousins' and the point.

This afternoon I relaxed and husband fretted about the delivery of the lobsters. Seems the guy he gets them from is
struggling not to drink and perhaps on the losing end of that stick. At any rate the lobsters came. They were
hard-shells and at one and an eighth pound apiece cost six bucks total. Husband cooked them up, melted the butter,
and set out the potato chips. It was a delicious meal, our first at the dining room table all week. Dog lay by
my feet hoping for a taste of lobster. Turns out she likes lobster. The two cats were nowhere in sight. After
dinner more quiet time. Husband in bed by seven p.m. and so I had a quiet evening.

I talked with my dad today briefly just to say hello. He was heading out for some hair products. Husband said to me
after we hung up, "Man, he should just look in his bathroom. I couldn't go into the bathroom after him because of
all the hair stuff he uses." Which was pretty funny. I myself at times have gotten bent on cleaning products and
so we would wind up with lots of them, all different kinds. That must be where I got that from. Dad is stuck on
hair products and I am stuck on cleaning products.

I also talked to Ed. He is expecting a grandchild-- his first-- in September. She is going to be a girl, that we
know and we even know her name but I will not publish it here.

Well that was it for today. I am missing my internet connection and my friends back at home. So far it looks like
we will be leaving Tuesday. Husband and his mother will drive her car back up on Wednesday. And he plans to take
either the train home or rent-a-car. I teased him a bit, telling him that I am going to go to the bookstore on
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday when he is away.

Friday in Portland

I took the dog for a walk this morning and we stopped to see the artist woman in the green house. The mosquitos were
something fierce this morning. While there she told me this story:

Artist woman and husband have a house in Freeport, a farm in Central Maine, and a condo in Florida. She is retired
and had earned the things she has. She also flips houses-- only she usually lives in them while fixing them up. She
and her family bought the ramshackle house nearby our end of the road. The former resident had been a quiet woman
with crazy relatives. This former owner had been existing there on weekends without electric-- for fear that her
crazy relatives would notice an increase in the bill-- or running water. She didn't fix up the house at all. She
was afraid she would lose it after her mother died. And that is exactly waht happened.

She hadn't dusted in forty-five years either, according to the artist lady. Or vacumned. The place was a pig pen.
Additionally, prior owner had three months to get out and the artist woman felt forced to help her pack stuff and
move it every day during the month of January. When artist woman returned from the Florida condo, prior resident
called her up demanding more help "right now." And pitched a fit when the help was not forthcoming. Never mind that
legally she was supposed to be out by the end of January.

At any rate, the new owners have had to padlock the door to keep the insane twisted woman out.

Dog and I returned to the cottage to find that husband had misread the boat schedule. I played some computer
majong and did some computer art so the time was not wasted. After apologizing to the dog for leaving her, we walked
back up mosquito alley (the mosquitos here are outnumbered only by the ticks) past the golf course to the dock. It
was high tide which means that the ramp was almost parallel rather than at a steep angle to the boat. There were
not a lot of people boarding today. Just a few year rounders going into town to do some shopping and run errands.
We got on the boat and then the shuttle bus to the parking lot.

Husband drove down route 1, hopped on the freeway, and then swung off into Baxter and then Forest Avenue. First stop
The Caravan where I picked up some new beads. Then to a small Mexican restaurant. And then to the Old Port. The
staffer at the comic store remembered husband from last year and even what he had bought. We cruised around the
cobblestone street willy-nilly, checked out the store with the old maps, laughed at one teeshirt on display which
said "bad dog" illustrated by a dog taking a dump, retreated quickly from an ice cream shop where the first scoop was
three bucks. "We'll get ice cream at Bagels n More," husband said. And that is what we did. Bagels n More is in
a small strip mall across from the larger strip mall where Shaws and the Goodwill are.

After ice cream, we went to the Goodwill. Husband and I both picked up a couple of books apiece. I found a Peterson
fourth edition bird book which I shall leave at the cottage. If mother-in-law throws it away-- she has a habit of
throwing out, giving away, or donating anything she does not use herself-- no big whoop. Husband picked up a few
food essentials at Shaws and then speeded down Route 1 just in time to miss the bus for the boat.

He swore. He parked the car. We sat under the trees reading our new old books. A man came with a shitzu/pek mix
in a black kennel. He tuned up his guitar but I was too tired to be interested. The bus came and then we were
deposited by the long dock leading to the ramp and the boat. The boat came. First the people got off. A young
couple with three little girls were waiting to board with us. The middle child was swooped up by her dad because she
would not move out of the way. This set off tears. The youngest decided to join the middle in crying. After the
folks got off the boat, the crew (three this time, not two) loaded the boat with the groceries in bean bags and
etcetera. Then they waved us on. The two little girls who had commenced crying cried all the way back to the
island. It was a regular crying contest. The oldest sister was begging for her share of attention too. The man
with the caged ankle-biter had disappeared into the back of the boat somewhere which was just fine with me. He was
seeking out attention for his dog. In my world, dogs adjust to humans and not the other way around.

Back at home, neither of us were hungry. Husband tottered off to bed at 6:30! That left me with a quiet evening of
reading, computer, and dog.