Saltwater Random

I'm here, heading into my third night. I'm simultaneously grounded and floaty since I got here, noticing things in an unlinked way, not feeling very shape-ful of writing. So, random.



1. The first thing I did when I got here was to unload my car. The second was to walk down to the water and take a picture of my feet on the edge. And yet, it only occurred to me this afternoon that this water I'm looking at when I wake up, when I go to sleep, is saltwater. Inland girl indeed.



2. The most delightful present F ever gave me was a swiss watch he picked up on impulse in the Geneva airport. It suited me, he was thinking of me, it's made me happy for more than 2 years. Today, just before he comes to do the dreaded exchange-of-stuff ritual, it stopped.

3. I think that bump of land I see through the haze across from me is Saturna. Or Mayne. Not sure. I think I can see the south tip of Galiano, my old friend, as well.

4. I will never, ever want for fish and chips. I went for a walk along Marine drive today, and there were at least 20 shops.

5. I've been reading this book, called A Year by the Sea: Thoughts of an Unfinished Woman. She's not really my type, and she's of a much different life-shaped-by-the-needs-of-marriage-and-kids-never-felt-passion genre, but it's a good book to signal my own year by the sea. Kind of creates the possibility that being pretty much solo for four full seasons can be rich.

6. That vanished, blown up plane is haunting my dreams.

7. I was feeling ebullient until I had 3 hours of work phone calls today. And my furniture came but couldn't make it up the street so has to be parceled out. Then I felt all flattened. Not sure if it's because now I'm *here* and not traveling, or because of the prospect of seeing F tomorrow and all that stirs up, or not having my own shampoo, or the weird dissonance of being in two places at once and not having a rhythm yet. Just noticing.

8. Not sure why I thought I live a life where an organic snow white cotton duvet cover makes any sense at all, but I truly love the way it looks in my wee, multi-windowed sage and white bedroom.

9. I can see the sunset from my bed. Note to self: add box spring to bed order so bed is high enough.

10. Yes, White Rock is full of septuagenarians and older. I have never seen so many "Veteran" license plates in one place. Clearly the saratoga of the north, divided between young women on marine drive in bikinis and flip flops and white haired ladies with narrow shoulders valiantly pushing their rolling walkers.