Just Fine

These were taken a few weeks ago down Redart. I try to make it down there three or four times a year just to check on these boats and the docks to which they're moored.

They were all doing just fine.

Just fine is not exactly how I'd describe my temperament last evening, though.

My workdays begin early and are exacerbated by a 100-mile round-trip commute in a car with 182,000 miles on it. I get up at 5:30, leave the house by 6:15 and sit behind the wheel of a car I hope can last for a solid hour of driving before arriving at work at 7:30, where I sit at a desk in a tiny office staring at an even tinier computer screen.

All day.

Then I return behind the wheel of a car I hope can last just one more hour to get home.

When sporting events are added to that, the days, the miles, the sitting, the hoping, the worrying, the wondering, the not only is my son leaving for college but how will I pay for it moments, and the hours far from home where things need tending to are even longer.

Way, way, way longer.

So let's just say Monday was a very long day due to work and my daughter's soccer game. By the time Tuesday morning rolled around, it felt as if I'd been hit by a Mack truck it were already Friday.

Except it wasn't.

No matter what day I felt it should be, it was still only Tuesday morning, way too early.

The very long story short is Tuesday night when I arrived home from yet another brutally long day, wondering when my car is finally going to conk out from all the miles, to see the very same grass I had cut three days ago high enough for more cutting, and the very same ants I'd tamed on the kitchen counter swarming again, and the very same dirt and dust I'd swept the day before piled even higher on the floor, and the dog and cats begging for attention, and Son (who is leaving the nest soon and whose college tuition I have to figure out how to pay for) and Daughter (who will be leaving in a couple of years herself for another college I have to figure out how to pay for) simultaneously needing dinner....well.

Well.

I walked into the house and unbeknownst to me, the emotional whirlwind of exhaustion + fear + how am I ever going to do all this by myself created a spontaneous eruption of tears that couldn't be stopped no matter how hard I tried.

Later, when I explained to Son and Daughter that too many things were converging at once and that I was absolutely fine, just a little overwhelmed, Daughter hugged me and said, "We deserve to be a little crazy sometimes."

Crazy wasn't exactly what I was going for, but I so appreciate the empathy. And based on how hard we run during the school year, she's right. We do deserve it.

Whatever it is.

Son went out and cut the very grass I was worried about after helping me season the lackluster spaghetti sauce I was attempting to toss on the table as a token dinner, in between sniffles.

After all that, everything is back to status woe quo here at Casa de CBW. The ants are on the counter, and the Son is still leaving the nest bills still have to be paid, somehow.

But for now, all is good.

Tomorrow's another day.

Reflections

From my back yard Thursday morning, I took these shots of a pink and purple sky admiring its reflection in the mirror of Queens Creek.

The work week has been short, but I'm back to work at long last. The past several weeks of uncertainty with my government job (usually synonymous with employment security and stability) has caused me to ponder how I would earn an income if I should lose my current job.  It's a difficult question to answer given where I live and my age, which is fast approaching 49.

Even though I do still have my job, I really need to reflect on this more.  Short of winning the lottery, I'm really not at all sure what a 48 3/4-year-old female who lives an hour away from anything resembling civilization would do to support a family by herself.

But, as Miss Scarlett once said, if I think about this now I'll go crazy.  I'll think about it tomorrow.

Since tomorrow is Saturday, I'll postpone all this thinking until Monday.

Have a great weekend.

Crabbing

Thursday I had the honor and privilege of accompanying these two gentlemen on their crab route.

I'm reasonably sure they'd never--ever--refer to it as a crab route, but, hey, they might want to consider it.

The clear weather, abundant sunshine, aromatic breezes, and thrill of a new experience inspired me to take over 300 photos in the three or so hours we were out there.

There is much to tell about this trip.

If I do not win the 590 million dollar lottery for which I purchased seven tickets, I wish to pursue a way to earn a living as a tag-along amateur photographer on a crab route workboat.

If I do win the lottery, after making sure the local schools
and others in need were taken care of, I'll spend my days photographing the people of Mathews County.

And pay them for the honor.

I could have stayed out there all day long.

The captain (on the right) gave me a hug
and a kiss when it was all over.

That was as good as winning the lottery to me.

These two together are quite the team.

Johnny Pugh  

Captain AJ Hurst's reflection in the window

More to come next week but in the meantime a million thanks to Johnny and AJ for allowing me aboard and for being ever so patient as I took several hundred photographs.  I would have taken 600 except my camera started smoking and sputtering before drawing its last, long, labored breath.

My beloved camera is officially dead.

Funeral arrangements were not available at the time of this blog post.
Contact Foster-Faulkner for the particulars.

I'm grateful for these final photos, however.

Very, very grateful.

Have a great weekend, and be sure to come back Monday to learn more about the inner workings of a crab route crab boat operation
as seen through CBW's eyes.

That is, unless she goes belly up at Saturday's 10K.

Silent Sunday

"Far away there in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, and try to follow where they lead. "

Louisa May Alcott

"Never look down to test the ground before your next step; only he who keeps his eyes fixed on the horizon will find the right road."

Dag Hammarskjold

"It's another gorgeous weekend here. Go out and enjoy the fresh air and try not to think about the piles of dirty laundry the start of the work week tomorrow. Also, if you're going to fix your eyes on and take steps towards the horizon above without looking down, you may want to consider wearing a flotation device."

Chesapeake Bay Woman, mumbling to herself

Morning Has Broken

These are from Aaron's Beach on a recent summer morning.

Chesapeake Bay Son is trying out for the cross country team. His practices are usually when most people are just reaching the REM stage of sleep at the crack of dawn.


When/if I do not have to travel four thousand miles to the paying job, I drive him to practice and take advantage of the hour or so between drop off and pick up to photograph some of my favorite places in the early morning light.


While there isn't a whole lot of color in these particular shots because I am not a real photographer and tend to do things like point the camera directly into the sun while in Auto mode, there is something rather soothing about them.


In fact, there's something soothing about the water no matter how much the photographer refuses to use anything other than Auto mode no matter what, particularly first thing in the morning before anything's had the chance to mess with it yet.

I hope your Monday is as peaceful and serene as this Mathews County beach at sunrise.

p.s. I am sort of laughing as I write this Sunday night, because Mondays for me are about as peaceful and serene as a root canal without Novocain. What advice would you give to someone who wastes spends an entire Sunday dreading Monday?

Is there any way a person can make a decent living writing silly blog posts and taking photos in Auto mode?