I've opened up my cottage in Tuckerton, turned on the water, and am eager to enjoy another wonderful summer there. I'm a bit late in getting it open this year; I usually shoot for April 15th, as a reward for getting my taxes filed. Of course, THIS year I didn't have to file by April 15. My hometown was declared a disaster area and they gave us all extensions. Fortunately for me, I didn't actually need the extension... but I am happy to use that as my excuse for opening up my cottage two weeks late.
It only took the Water Department guy a few minutes to turn my water on this morning. I was expecting him to bring the meter they removed last fall, install it, and then turn me on... but unbeknownst to me, he'd installed the meter last week! If I'd know that, then when Patrick came last weekend to fix the broken pipe under the house, I could've turned the water on myself to test it. Then Pat, Mel and I would not have spent the weekend seeking out local restrooms to brush our teeth and do our business. (I don't mind camping out at my cottage, but I know my guests are less than thrilled with the set up and it's always a little awkward explaining to the girls how to pee in a cup.)
Anyway, the guy came and turned the water on and I stood under the cottage and looked at the pipes that Pat had fixed and there were no leaks. (Good work Patrick!) So I turned the handle on the valve that lets the water run into the house, and up the pipe it went and the sound of the rushing water was delightful... but about forty-five seconds later the water started pouring out of the house above me, rushing and gushing and splashing all around me. In my panic I couldn't remember which way was "off" on the valve and the guy from the water department came running over and turned the valve back off. I stood horrified and transfixed wondering what the hell had happened in my house to make all the pipes burst when I knew full-well that my other son, Mike, had done everything he was supposed to to "winterize" it last fall.
Deja vu.
I've done this at least once before. If I were being honest with myself it's probably happened at least three times in the ten years I've had the cottage. Before turning the water on, I... duhhhhh... forgot to close the valves inside the house that you leave open over the winter!
I couldn't help but laugh out loud at myself once my brain had worked through the problem. The water department guy looked terribly concerned, but I just kept laughing as I trudged up the steps and into the house to shut the drain spigots... under the kitchen sink, behind the refrigerator, and coming out of the hot water heater. It's a cottage... the floors are wash and wear. I have plenty of beach towels to mop things up. I laughed the whole time I was doing it. I can be such a nincompoop!
Later I went over to Mike's cottage and got his meter installed and his water turned on, though I did not turn on the valve to his house, 'cause I have NO IDEA what valves HE leaves open! As it was, Mike had removed the tiny cap to the shut-off's bleeder valve under his house. So when the water guy turned the water on, it shot out of that bleeder and once again I was laughing. Fine, I was simply destined to be christened today, that's all. No biggie. I had, after all, been looking square at that darn uncapped valve. Any idiot wouldn't realized it needed to be capped before turning on the water.
I amuse the hell outta myself!
Today and tomorrow the temperature will be up in the 80s, which means the tiny no-see-ums will hatch out and eat everyone. After them, the black flies will hatch out and began their feast. Then the greenheads will hatch out, followed by the mosquitoes... Later in the summer when the greenheads find themselves in their mating season, their bites will become downright fierce. They are known for biting though clothing, leaving blotches of blood stains on your shirts and pants as you yelp in pain. Sometimes it seems like I only have a cottage on the Jersey shore so I can make sure the insects get fed. But the truth is that the cottage is the pure embodiment of my soul. When I am there... when I am here (as I am right now), I feel more alive, more at peace, more in touch, more myself, than anywhere else on this earth.
Yesterday at physical therapy (before I drove south to my cottage), the doctor suggested that next week we may have to inject both sides of my neck in order to finally release the rock-hard neck spasm that I've had for the last two months. This morning as I awoke in my bed in Tuckerton, I was - for the first time in months - not in pain. My neck spasm is gone. Magic. Just that simply.
I love this cottage... bug bites, floods, and all.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Universal Truths
Of course nothing ever goes as planned... so I shouldn't be surprised that my day is already topsy-turvey and it's not even yet noon. Thankfully my tummy has improved dramatically. I trust that's due to all the energy I pulled from the Universe over the last three days, asking to "Let this cup pass me by". My blood work isn't back yet, but I am fairly convinced it will all be good news.
I feel lucky that way.
So I don't' mind that the tree guys wont be here 'til after lunch (if then), or that more poison ivy has blossomed on my right and left arms and left calf. It's all good: I've chosen which battles I need to win. Those were not on my list.
I haven't blogged in a while. It isn't just that I have been feeling so ill, though that did slow me down a lot. But I don't have any Internet service at home just now, so being online at the library gives me very limited Web time. Choices have to be made. Blogging is low on the list. My lack of home Internet is self-imposed. I was spending far too much time playing Bejeweled and not nearly enough doing my actual writing. Lack of access hasn't improved my productivity, as yet, but it will... I can feel it. It most certainly has affected my reading time. Little Gia has been thrilled to sit in my lap in the shade of my porch as I read the eight books I've taken out (from the library I visit near-daily). The birds come and go from the feeders all around us and G and I enjoy the heat of this temporary summer wave. It's only April. Spring returns in three days (according to the Meteorologists) and once inside I expect my writing to take me over again.
Writing is much harder than it looks. Trust me on this.
The three 60' pines that fell out of my neighbors yard and into mine in one of the big winter storms will be removed by professionals later today. Meanwhile my sons came and took down enormous amounts of split and dangling tree limbs in my front yard over Easter weekend. My curb is piled high with Patrick's chain-saw massacre. When you direct a bull adequately toward a mission, it is near-miraculous how much work he'll crank out for you. When Pat is in bull-mode, I keep the good china in the cupboards. I'm learning. He's learning. We are getting along better now than I think we ever have in our lives... well, unless you count those first six years of his life when he and I were thick as thieves. If not for Pat's enthusiasm, none of what was accomplished would have happened this past weekend. His brothers did pitch in, Michael especially, but it was all owing to Pat's remarkable stamina and stick-to-it-iv-ness. (That's a word, right?)
While Pat was busy battling the brush, Mike took a time-out to snip branches from the plum tree's pruned limbs that were piled in the street. I loved that... seeing him think to take them home, knowing they would open in a few days into luscious pink blossoms that could brighten the apartment he and Vicky call home. He offered to cut me some too, not knowing I'd already collected my own and put them in water in the dining room.
There is a richness in my soul, seeing my sons reflect some of the very best parts of my self.
Enough for now... emails to answer and stuff to research... disaster to avert... a Universe to call upon... positive energy to send out to those in need... and a laptop waiting at home for more of my magnificent (I hope) writing.
I feel lucky that way.
So I don't' mind that the tree guys wont be here 'til after lunch (if then), or that more poison ivy has blossomed on my right and left arms and left calf. It's all good: I've chosen which battles I need to win. Those were not on my list.
I haven't blogged in a while. It isn't just that I have been feeling so ill, though that did slow me down a lot. But I don't have any Internet service at home just now, so being online at the library gives me very limited Web time. Choices have to be made. Blogging is low on the list. My lack of home Internet is self-imposed. I was spending far too much time playing Bejeweled and not nearly enough doing my actual writing. Lack of access hasn't improved my productivity, as yet, but it will... I can feel it. It most certainly has affected my reading time. Little Gia has been thrilled to sit in my lap in the shade of my porch as I read the eight books I've taken out (from the library I visit near-daily). The birds come and go from the feeders all around us and G and I enjoy the heat of this temporary summer wave. It's only April. Spring returns in three days (according to the Meteorologists) and once inside I expect my writing to take me over again.
Writing is much harder than it looks. Trust me on this.
The three 60' pines that fell out of my neighbors yard and into mine in one of the big winter storms will be removed by professionals later today. Meanwhile my sons came and took down enormous amounts of split and dangling tree limbs in my front yard over Easter weekend. My curb is piled high with Patrick's chain-saw massacre. When you direct a bull adequately toward a mission, it is near-miraculous how much work he'll crank out for you. When Pat is in bull-mode, I keep the good china in the cupboards. I'm learning. He's learning. We are getting along better now than I think we ever have in our lives... well, unless you count those first six years of his life when he and I were thick as thieves. If not for Pat's enthusiasm, none of what was accomplished would have happened this past weekend. His brothers did pitch in, Michael especially, but it was all owing to Pat's remarkable stamina and stick-to-it-iv-ness. (That's a word, right?)
While Pat was busy battling the brush, Mike took a time-out to snip branches from the plum tree's pruned limbs that were piled in the street. I loved that... seeing him think to take them home, knowing they would open in a few days into luscious pink blossoms that could brighten the apartment he and Vicky call home. He offered to cut me some too, not knowing I'd already collected my own and put them in water in the dining room.
There is a richness in my soul, seeing my sons reflect some of the very best parts of my self.
Enough for now... emails to answer and stuff to research... disaster to avert... a Universe to call upon... positive energy to send out to those in need... and a laptop waiting at home for more of my magnificent (I hope) writing.
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