Long Weekend

These were taken at sunrise from Aaron's Beach.

Have a wonderful weekend.

Three Things

Once again we say hello to the day of the week called Thursday, and once again I ask you to share three things.  Always remember that three is merely a suggestion.  There are no hard and fast rules at all in my life here on this blog.

Let's begin.

1.  Yesterday I had the honor of watching a cross country scrimmage between Mathews High School and Gloucester High School.  Yes, it required getting up at 5:30 a.m., and no, I wasn't thrilled about that, but yes, Mathews dominated, and yes, I am thrilled about that. (Yes+No+Yes+Yes=It was all good in spite of the early hour.)

2. Son is in training to be a server at one of my favorite restaurants of all time, Robert in New York City Merroir, over in Topping at Locklies Marina. (If you do the Facebook thing, click here for their page. Otherwise click here for more info.

3. I would like to say thank you to LLC, a commenter whose real name I do not know even though she's visited here since the Blog Cabin show came to Mathews.  I'm usually able to send side notes to commenters here and there, but I can't with LLC because there's no email address assigned to her Blogger account.  Regardless, LLC, I'd like you to know that I appreciate your faithful reading and clever comments. Thank you.

3b.  This same thanks extends to everyone/anyone who has suffered through the years reads and comments.  Thank you!

Now it's your turn to share three (or more-- or less) things.  Whatever happens to be on your mind at the moment.

Gwynn's Island Bridge

After a feeble attempt at exercise last evening, I decided to drive over to Gwynn's Island to snap a few shots, knowing full well I risked being marooned stuck on the island indefinitely.

Sunday, Sheriff Mark Barrick called county residents via the emergency notification system to inform us that the bridge was stuck open and was therefore closed to vehicular traffic.  No traveling onto or off of the island. Stuck. Nobody knew when it would be fixed.  Thanks to Facebook, I learned that within several hours it had been pulled closed by some boats.

(Note:  This Facebook intel has not been confirmed, but one thing I can confirm is the bridge is now open to vehicular traffic. Also, who here is confused about the fact that an open bridge can be closed to vehicular traffic? Of that by closing the bridge it can be open to traffic? Well, an open bridge is open to marine traffic, also known as boats.  If you're ready to jump off said bridge right now due to CBW's incessant rambling, you're likely not the only one.)

Anyway.

As I drove across last evening, I could just see it.

While I was off snapping mindless photos, marveling at the sunset and scanning the skies to see what was being highlighted best, the bridge would open to let a boat pass through and stay stuck open again.

Then what?

I'd either have to swim home (not really an option) or ask Son to retrieve me in the canoe. He'd do it, perhaps, but he'd probably come up with a "better" way that wouldn't involve him paddling a canoe all the way out of Queens Creek and around to Milford Haven just to retrieve his mother and turn around and do all that paddling again.  That better way no doubt would involve what I labeled as my worst case scenario:   I figured I'd sleep in my car in the Sea Breeze parking lot, because surely that bridge would stay stuck open all night long causing me to miss work in the morning.

But wait.

How would I explain my absence from work in the morning?

CBW's brain not only keeps her vastly entertained, it allows her to create unnecessary nightmares contingency plans for survival as well as all new sources of worry, such as how long it would take her employer to call local law enforcement to verify her statements.

But this is where CBW wins!

Because when they called,  local law enforcement would sing the same song as CBW.

"The bridge is stuck open. The End."

CBW:  "Hello?  I'm sorry, I can't come to work today.  I drove over to Gwynn's Island, and the bridge got stuck open, and I'm trapped here.  No. Really.  You can't make this stuff up."

Work:  "Wait.  Where is Gwynn's Island and how does a bridge get stuck open? What do you mean there's no way off the island?  Are you sure there isn't something bigger going on here such as the size of your nose growing with all these lies, Pinocchio?"

CBW:  "Just call the sheriff.  He'll tell you."

Work:  "Note for the file:  I've never heard anything like this before. Let's keep a close eye on this one."

See the heron? I didn't notice him until after I took the picture.

Needless to say, the bridge did not malfunction last night,

and I didn't have to worry about sleeping in my car 

or what to tell my place of employment.

Thankfully.

I drove home, loaded these pictures and spent way longer than anticipated sharing my inner thoughts on the whole prospect of the Gwynn's Island bridge malfunctioning.

It malfunctioned on Sunday.  It's working now.

The End.

Flowers

A rogue rose grows in my back yard.
(I do nothing to encourage it, yet it thrives.)

The weather here in Mathews this weekend was nothing short of spectacular.

Bright sunshine, cool breezes and low humidity.

Zinnias next door at my parents' house.

This weekend Son arrived home safely from visiting Middle Sis in Atlanta.

Last night my mother had us over for a Sunday night seafood fest, and Son told us about all their adventures, which included a tour of Georgia Tech, a ferris wheel ride, Stone Mountain, and the Mall of Georgia.

(When you grow up in Rural, USA, an hour away from everything except 7-11, which is always within a stone's throw civilization, the Mall of Georgia quickly shoots to the top of the list of  things to do when you finally do venture out.)

During dinner, when I heard him describing the layout of Atlanta as not being "on the grid system" like New York, I felt a strange sort of pride.

I know he can navigate the seas of life without fear, with a healthy curiosity and confidence, but with his small-town roots intact.

Thanks to Middle Sis for providing a home away from home during this important journey of his.

Happy Monday. Welcome to the last week of August.  Already.

Dirt Lane

The other day, after dropping off Daughter at cross country practice,

I drove down the Glebe for the first time in 

a month of Sundays

a while.

I wanted to check on a soybean field that I adore.

It is still there.

So are the outbuildings adorning its edges.

~~~~~~~~~~

Have a fantastic weekend.

Three Things

Once again we greet the day called Thursday, and on this blog that means we share three things.

I'll go first.

1.  Son is currently in Dacula, GA, visiting Middle Sister. (That's Dacula, not Dracula.  I don't know why they insist on dropping that letter, but every time I see, write or say that word I want to insert the "r" back where it belongs.  Dracula. Except it's Dacula.  This circular, superfluous commentary is now coming to a close. Please remain seated until CBW's brain comes to a full and complete stop.)

1b.  Anyway.  They spent yesterday touring Georgia Tech and downtown Atlanta, which is not far from where Middle Sister lives in Dracula Dacula.  I am so grateful they're able to spend some time together. We don't get to see her often since she's so far away, but her being there gives him the opportunity to spend quality time exploring yet another city as he contemplates his future.

2.Yesterday I ran five miles for the first time this calendar year in months, and it didn't feel awful, surprisingly.  My route took me from Wayland Baptist Church to Onemo and back, and I absolutely loved the peace and quiet of those back roads even as I gasped for breath.

3. This week my father fixed a broken headlight and parking light on my car. He also fixed my tractor, which was out of commission (technically it was a tire issue), and made sure my grass was cut these past couple of weeks--no easy feat. When you're a working mother who spends most of her time away from home due to all the associated and conflicting demands, these gestures are priceless.  I really appreciate all he does for me and am very grateful to have him around and feeling well enough to do all that he does.  (Hi, CB Mother!  I also appreciate everything you do, like taking Daughter to and from cross country practice and fixing us wonderful dinners and taking care of our dog and cat. Thank you!)


Now it's your turn to share three things.  Or four things.  Whatever you want.  Whatever's on your mind.

Soybean field in Moon, VA.

Coming and Going

Here are some shots of a baby boat following its mother 

into and out of the harbor at St. Michaels.

Of course, very few people except me call them 

baby boats or mother boats for that matter.

But the one thing about not writing for anyone other than yourself

is the creative license to call things whatever you feel like calling them.

Today, I see a baby boat.

Most people with any sense call them dinghies. 

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.

Dinghy.

Dinghy.

Dinghy.

That's one funny word, you have to admit.

Baby boat sounds cute and slightly more dignified, in my opinion.

(Dignified may be a stretch.)

Anyway.

When I first loaded these pictures and slapped on a title (which I often do before I have any idea what I'm going to write-- if you care to call this writing, and I don't because it's just meandering thoughts), I was thinking about how I sat and watched this particular boating family come in and out of the harbor and how here lately it feels as if all I've done all summer is come and go, between commuting to work and all the various trips and activities.  

If these are my biggest problems, life is good.  

But I sure am looking forward to a few consecutive days where the car never leaves the yard.  

Also, I need a new car new tires.

Have a dinghy of a day!

Sunrise at Aarons Beach

These were taken at sunrise from Aarons Beach last week after I dropped off Daughter at cross country practice, which started at six thirty.

Six thirty, and sunrise, were only three hours later than when I went to sleep Sunday morning after my mini class reunion aboard the Spirit of Norfolk Saturday night.  Although we all were nervous about the late (to us anyway) start time of Midnight Thirty, we used toothpicks to prop our eyelids open used the aerobic activity known as dancing to help keep the blood flowing to ensure nobody nodded off.

Our friend Lucy (click here for a post with our picture) did an excellent job organizing the event, which wasn't without its obstacles, and we've vowed to plan regular activities to force us out of our stale normal routines which almost never include dancing on a boat in downtown Norfolk from 12:00 - 2:30 a.m.

How was your weekend?

Sunrise on Queens Creek

One morning this week, just before leaving for work, I glanced towards the creek.

I gasped and dashed for the camera.

The weather has been spectacularly cool--almost like fall--these past two days.  The sun makes her grand entrance a little later each morning.

Mother Nature is putting up signs signaling summer is slinking away.

I'm grateful for gifts like this sunrise, that make getting up and leaving for work just a little more pleasant.

Happy Friday.

Three Things

Welcome to Thursday, where it's time to share three things.  

Whatever happens to be on our minds at the moment. 

These things can be random, related, ridiculous, serious, germane, inane or whatever.

(Remember that three is just a suggestion.)

(Often the very creator of Three Things ignores her own suggestion.)

1.  This weekend I will join a few friends from Mathews High School's class of 1982 for a midnight cruise aboard the Spirit of Norfolk.  Norfolk is about an hour and a half away from Mathews, and the cruise ends at 2:30 a.m.  Chesapeake Bay Woman would like to state for the record that the last time she drove to Norfolk for anything that began at midnight and ended at 2:30 a.m. was this time:  N.E.V.E.R.   However, because there's this thing called YOLO, CBW is eagerly awaiting Saturday and is hoping sure she can stay awake, because the characters coming along will keep her laughing hysterically.

1b.  Although CBW has modeled her entire life after the concept of YOLO, always game for doing something fun even when she can provide thousands of reasons why she can't or shouldn't (such as the yard which is taking over her house and the myriad of home maintenance projects that require attention), she never knew there was an acronym for her lifestyle and her philosophy and was very pleased to be informed by her children that it stands for "You only live once."

1c.  CBW's children also informed her that she was the last person on the planet to know what YOLO means.  CBW blames her lack of TV watching and general isolation from mainstream anything for this state of affairs but is glad to learn there is a label for why she is going to Norfolk Saturday night for an event that begins at midnight.

2.  Daughter, who had never played volleyball before other than in the back yard and in a swimming pool on vacation, didn't make the volleyball team.  Instead she's running cross country, which she's never done either.  We've had to get up at Ohsodark:30 a.m. this week for practice, but it's all good.  She's trying a new sport, a new challenge which will put her in prime shape for basketball, and I'm very proud of her.

3.  We all survived Son's 18th birthday. Yes.  Multiple teens and one frazzled, dazed and confused mother all survived. I feel like I've lived nine lives in less than a week.  Twenty nine, to be more exact.  YOL29?


Now it's your turn to share three things, or more things.  If you can't think of anything to say, tell me how long ago (and how) you heard of YOLO, so I can know exactly how far behind the times I am.

Small Boat Shed

These are some scenes from the small boat shed at the

Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels, MD.

This was probably my favorite part of the museum.

This boat was my favorite for lots of reasons.

I liked the rugged red paint, which is different.

And of course I loved the imperfections.

(This references the boat above.)

Yes, a person could easily while away hours in this museum, especially if that person's name is Chesapeake Bay Woman.

I highly recommend a visit to St. Michaels, Maryland, and the museum if you get the chance.

I also highly recommend not blinking your eyes if you ever have a baby.  Before you know it, you will have blinked three times and that baby will be an 18-year-old young man entering his senior year in high school.

Happy birthday to Chesapeake Bay Son, who continues to astonish me with his accomplishments, his abilities, his compassion and his zest for life.

I love you, CB Son.