Showing posts with label #Shortstory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #Shortstory. Show all posts

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Blondie in the Bay - An Adventure After the Hurricane

Blondie in the Bay 


I have a pitiful sight in my garage. I own 3 sea kayaks and a 20 foot canoe and they've done nothing but collect dust in my garage since we moved to dirtville.

Every once in awhile I'll stare longingly at them remembering their glory days when we lived near the beach. At least once a week I'd strap wheels to the back of 'fast and tippy' or 'slow and steady' and pull it down the street to the bay or the ocean for a couple of hours of kayaking. 


Fast and Tippy with wheels.
One of my favorite adventures was a lovely fall day a few days after a hurricane paid us a visit. The storm was a category two hurricane (read 96-110 mph winds) and the damage to the area was extensive. Many homes were flooded, trees were down, and there was major damage to the infrastructure along the shore with entire tracts of power lines down for miles. I was itching to see how everything had fared, having been cut off from anything but the radio since the storm hit.

Storm eating up the sky.

I was also tired of being in the dark, hot house with no power. At least outside there was a semblance of a breeze even if the sun was blaring down on me. A short walk through the tree-lined neighborhood and I launched the sea kayak into the warm water of the back bay with blue herons and osprey flying overhead and the water sparkling brightly all around.
My playground for the day.

A considerable amount of debris left by the storm was in my usual launching place so I had to improvise. Luckily I was wearing my water shoes and didn't mind stepping on some rather questionable sea ick. The water felt delicious on my legs and I settled into 'fast and tippy' its light green color reflecting brightly in the sun. I launched myself using the paddle and began exploring the bay. 

I felt secure in my knowledge that the water was shallow and the sharks were more fond of the oceanfront as I paddled along, glad that 'fast and tippy' was making my journey a bit easier. 'Slow and steady' was well suited for the oceanfront with the constant waves and the treacherous breaker crossings. Thankfully, I was oblivious the great white shark that was tracked in that area a few years later. 


Glad I didn't know a great white shark made regular visit to the bay. 






The bay was lined with luxury homes of the disgustingly rich. I was most definitely not rich (see Blondie at the Beach) and enjoyed ogling their toys. It was nice to know these rich people were suffering along with us regular folk with no power, broken houses, and major damage. Not that I had anything against them. Merely that the hurricane didn't just pick on us. 

Tooling along in the bay gave me the inside scoop on many of these houses. From the road it was hard to see how they lived in the lap of luxury. From the     bay their backyards were completely visible, fancy yachts and all. Only now    

    there were trees on top of houses and yachts, and in some cases yachts on top     of trees. 


Lawn yacht anyone?

Contractors were hard at work pumping out the water or removing fallen branches and trees from their otherwise beautifully manicured lawns. One huge brick house in particular caught my attention. A huge lob lolly pine fell through the roof and another fallen tree had cracked the seawall. It looked like they had another few trees down in the front lawn as well, although it was hard to see from my vantage point in the kayak. There had to be water inside the house given the severity of the roof damage. 



Trees were down everywhere.

Seeing the devastation around me made me realize how lucky we were. Our house had made it through the storm with no damage or flooding. The seawall at the oceanfront was responsible for the lack of flooding and just been completed a few months before the hurricane. The storm surge brought the wave just to the brink of the wall, and had it not been there would have brought the ocean directly to our front yard two blocks away since it was all downhill. Our house was a single story ranch surrounded by two and three story homes leaving us in a pocket of safety from the damaging 100 mile an hour winds.

An hour of exploring and my bottle of water was nearly gone. Rather ironic that I was surrounded by hundreds of homes with seven or more bathrooms and none available to me. I was left with few options. A very lovely winding path in long sea grass was a perfect unseen place. The footing is rather difficult back there, not to mention the various crabs, fish and creepy crawlies that may take advantage of me in my moment of relief. 


Please Mr. Crab, please don't pinch me!


I eased my legs over the side of the kayak but it took me awhile to muster the courage to lower myself into the murky water, with all the imagined horrible biting critters unseen below the surface. Luckily I had lifeguard ninja skills as a quick draw McGraw and was back in the kayak all bits accounted for in no time.

I miraculously managed to get back into 'fast and tippy' without losing the paddle, my sunglasses, or my water and continued on my journey. By hour three I decided to head back home to see if the power was back on. A hot shower and air conditioning would be a great end to this day.

As it turned out power was not restored for another week and a half to our area near the beach and even longer for some lower lying areas. Our street happened to be one of the higher elevations in the entire area leaving us with less water damage from the torrential rains. The soggier areas had a lot more damage as a result of the loosened roots creating more fallen trees.

Returning to my small, inexpensive, yet undamaged house I definitely appreciated my lot in life. Our house made it through the storm with no damage at all and after what I'd seen that day it seemed like a miracle.

Although I didn't live in the lap of luxury like many of my neighbors, I still was able to enjoy the gorgeous bay and the sandy beach. More importantly I had the love of my family and friends and no amount of money could buy that. Life isn't about how much you have but how much you enjoy what you are given. I definitely have a full appreciation of all the good things in my life, even if I am living it in dirtville now. 

Connect With Me

When I'm not working on Stealing Time you can find me on my social media at the links below. I hope to have my novel completed by spring 2014 with book two close behind.

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Sunday, April 8, 2012

Blondie in Bermuda


Blondie in Bermuda



As you’ve gathered from my blog posts I love water -- rivers, beaches, pools, lakes, and especially Bermuda. I have included many good and bad water adventures in my first novel, Stealing Time, about hurricanes and time travel. You can find it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, in paperback and other places here! In the meantime join me while I relive a day on the pink sandy beaches of Bermuda.  

Bermuda is a bit 'o heaven.

It was July and Bermuda was the only place in the world I wanted to be with the sun on my shoulders and the gorgeous blue sea in front of me. I was excited by what I might find in the tranquil coves and lagoons that littered the coast of Bermuda. The fact that a handsome and amazingly well-muscled man joined me on this adventure did not hurt the excitement factor one iota.

We rent a scooter and make our way along the narrow winding roads avoiding the overloaded trucks taking their half of the road from the center. The island is breathtaking, full of pastel cottages in shades of pink, blue, and salmon all with impossibly white roofs. Meandering along oleander lined streets, pink and white flowers reaching out to touch us as we drive by, we make our way to the outskirts of the island looking for an isolated beach to explore.

Little Pink Houses

Once there, we park the scooter and head to the water with snorkel gear in hand. While standing knee deep in the water he cheerfully informs me that, “Several years ago three people were eaten by a shark at this very spot.”

Please not me! Take the man he's bigger. 

I look around at the lack of bystanders we will need to pull our bodies out of the water. With false innocence, he looks at me and continues his grisly lesson, pointing at the lagoon’s edge. “Over there a ten year old boy lost his leg.” 

I look but don’t want to see. Seriously? These are not thoughts I want swimming beside me in the water. I was satisfied with the blissful ignorance we had at the beginning of the journey. What happened to the tranquil coves? Unhappy with my new found knowledge on the subject of bloody and dismembered people, I take another swig from my water and toss it in the sand.  

“This is the part where you stick that snorkel in your mouth and bite it.” I say trying to scrub my brain free of the horrible images he planted there. He obliges by sliding into the water smiling, knowing his tease worked. It only takes me a few minutes to brush it aside since I am too enamored with the tranquil blue lagoon and tiny squid flitting just inches below the waterline, yet always out of reach.

Cute little squid will save me from the shark.

After awhile the breathtaking beauty of the coral reefs teaming with life overcomes my ill-begotten fears. The colors of the palm trees, flowers, and lush greenery of the land seem pale in contrast to all of the fuchsias, yellows, and blues of the fish darting and diving around the pink coral rocks. 


Can I stay under here forever?


The view of my man in swim trunks and snorkel gear is mighty fine, too. Later we return to the scooter with my soggy bikini-clad body pressed against his ready to explore another isolated beach -- this one just secluded enough.

Secluded enough? 

At the end of the day we return to our room, aptly named ‘A Bit ‘O Heaven,’ for a steamy shower and fresh duds. With a blanket and a bottle of champagne in hand we take a short walk down the rocky slope to the beach in front of the hotel. We arrive just in time to watch the sun fade into the sea, both ready for part two of our exciting time in Bermuda.

All we need is champagne and a blanket.


I’ve longed to go back and relive those amazing moments on the beach. But I’m afraid that adventure will have to wait awhile. As it would happen a few small problems have arisen since then, namely my beautiful blondie children. Right now they are clamoring for dinner and a chuck under their collective chins so I must dash off.  My current bit ‘o heaven includes the laughter, hugs, and everything else that comes with being their mom. 

Connect With Me

When I'm not working on Stealing Time you can find me on my social media at the links below. I hope to have my novel completed by spring 2013 with book two close behind.
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Saturday, March 31, 2012

Blondie at the Beach

By far the most magnificent place I have ever lived was the beach. My time there was very fleeting but I somehow managed to live two blocks from the non-commercial section of the beach where all the fancy pants people live. Mind you, I am not, nor will I ever be a fancy pants. I wear very normal pants I assure you. I lived in the rundown house neglected by an old couple for thirty years. Hey, don’t judge. It was a fixer upper and I could walk to the beach in minutes and watch the dolphins play in the surf or ride my bike to the best state park in the universe. The boardwalk, although teaming with the ungodly masses, was a mere ten minute bike ride or a minute by car where the best beach front restaurants could be found.


One beautiful June day sporting my new aqua bikini and matching wrap I gathered my things and walked to the beach. I was enjoying the beautifully landscaped spreads of the very wealthy that increased in size and expense as I neared the beach. I was also enjoying the way that I filled out my aqua bikini top, a little extra jiggle in each step. I had my sweet shades on and a wagon full of necessary items.


When I reached the hot sandy beach I didn’t fail to notice a few looks from fellow beach goers. I strutted my stuff just a little extra and continued to stroll the fifty feet or so to the prime location near the breakers. 

Unfortunately, I don’t think they were looking at my cleavage, although in my head I’m still going to remember it that way. They were looking from me to my three year old who was about ten feet behind me whining, “It hot. Mommy, it too hot.” While lifting his flip flop clad feet.
“Come on darling. You’re slowing me down.” I was desperate to get to the water. To put my feet in the cool delicious waves, feel the squish of the wet sand between my toes. Those people probably didn’t know that I’d been itching to get to the beach for over two hours. If you’ve ever taken a toddler to the beach you will know what I’m talking about. I scooped him up, kissed his chubby sun screened cheek and carried him the rest of the way, pulling the wagon and starring down the nay-sayers.


My other precious cargo was my eight month old baby girl whom I had to thank for my additional aqua endowment. She was snuggled safely in her boppy pillow in the wagon. The problem with taking two babies to the beach are too numerous to count but let's start with the timing. You have to be sure everyone has napped and has been fed. Both beautiful blondies need to be put in their bathing suits, one with a swim diaper, slathered in sunscreen that will instantly become a sand magnet upon arrival. Sun hats, extra diapers, snacks, blanket, umbrella, shovel and pail, and drinks are packed. By the time you’re ready you can't help but think, “Is this really worth it?” I was born an optimist so I was sure it would be.
After getting settled the kids have a great time playing in the sand. My baby daughter has never seen sand before and dipped her spit soaked fist into it. She proceeded to put it where everything else ends up, in her mouth. The change of expression from blissful ignorance to pure disgust had me laughing pretty hard. I hoped that the sand I scraped off her tongue did not contain seagull poop, dog pee, or any other unsavory things.
As I sat on the blanket marveling at my son’s adorable chubby form chasing seagulls and snuggling baby girl on my lap, I counted my blessings: How lucky we were to be in such a beautiful place with such relatively little effort, in comparison to the tourist who traveled hours. I looked longingly at the ocean. It was calling me to frolic in the waves. 
I longed for the cool caress of the saltwater.
Certainly not with two short people who can’t swim yet. There is nothing more I wanted to do than jump through the surf and dive into the cool caress of the saltwater. It will have to wait for another day. After one heavenly hour at the beach, baby girl needs to eat, shorty-boy is doing a special “I gotta go” dance, and so I begrudgingly repack all of our sandy items and cringe at the outdoor shower fiasco that I will have to endure once I reach home.  Once I figure out how to hold a baby and wash a three year old I'll let you know.

Connect With Me

When I'm not working on Stealing Time you can find me on my social media at the links below. My time travel novel is out now at the links below with book two close behind.

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