Friday, July 9, 2010

Thursday atthe beach. So to speak. I actually stayed in the house mostly.

Tonight I was straightening up downstairs and saw a flash outside, and realized that there was a storm out at sea. I ran upstairs to tell everyone what was going on (because lightning storms are exciting, ok??), and then, of course, picked up my camera and headed out to the beach. At first I tried taking pictures. I knew deep down that this was a huge waste of time, especially with a little and somewhat old Sony Cybershot pocket camera like mine, but I couldn't help trying. Eventually I started walking down the beach, and eventually I (mostly) gave up on the camera. I stopped 15 feet short of the pier and stood where the waves could wash up to just below my knees and studied the water and sky. I was trying to compose poems and paintings and drawings in my head. I was thinking of the "no man is an island" quote, and how it's all wrong--how we're all islands. How I'm standing here on the shore of mine, and by reading the wind and waves and sky I can tell there's a storm out there, but I can't really see it. I can't really experience it. It's like trying to read another person's mind. We can't really ever get in on what's going on--we can only read the weather and the waves and try to figure it out. I stood and watched the lightning, and the overlapping waves around my feet, and the foam, and the raw, powerful storm waves crashing against the pier for a long time. I turned to leave, and then turned back, realizing I'd never gone all the way to the pier. I went and stood next to a piling, and then saw a bolt sticking out about 2.5 or 3 feet from the ground. It was very tempting. I think I actually said aloud, "that is very tempting." And then I climbed up and sat on top of it, one of the shorter support pilings, barefoot and dirty with my skirt (ok, skort) pushed up to my hips and my legs and arms wrapped around the main pillar. (That was the only way. Those things aren't really big enough to make good seats, and they are severely lacking in comfortable foot rests.) Even just adding five or six feet to your vantage point can seem to change everything, can't it? I think I sat up there for at least 30 or 40 minutes, getting my clothes covered in mouldy, soggy old wood and watching the waves crash and run up the beach and splash under my feet. It was pretty awesome, not gonna lie.

Then on the way back I overshot the house by ten minutes, and then it started to rain. Luckily I realized that I'd overshot, and then didn't pass it a second time. That would've been pretty aggravating. But it was ok!

Earlier today, after I tried/pretended to nap for four hours or so, most of us went to paint pottery. Brian drew this super sweet cartoonish lumberjack and snowy tree and house on a mug, and outlined it all in black. I took a picture, but I took it on my camera and we all know how I feel about going to all that trouble of putting the memory card into the reader and then plugging it into the computer. Such a hassle. Maybe later.

I painted a tree and a waterfall and a Bible verse and some birds--so unlike me, I know. I guess none of you reading this (except possibly David) see much of the stuff I tend to paint, but trees and waterfalls are popular themes. Bible verses and birds are not unheard of. I was under pressure, okay? Anyway I took pictures of that on my phone, so here you go:

The other side has a waterfall on it. And another bird, that time flying. Also, obviously (?), this will look rather different after it's glazed. The tree branches will probably be showing through, for one, the blues will be far darker, and the bird might have faded into the tree. Whoops. I am crossing my fingers and hoping that "different" means "better." Anyway, the verse is "Beloved, let us love one another--for love is of God, and everyone that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God." I John, 4: 7-8. I think I'll be gifting this to the kitchen at Camp because evidently charging $16 for a mug plus $7/day for "studio time" doesn't leave enough profit margin for this pottery place to buy dishwasher- and microwave-safe glazes. Classy.

Before she went to bed, Sara's mom told me to go to bed soon, "because you want to be happy tomorrow." Today, as I believe I mentioned, I was very tired and sunburned and stayed inside. Am I not allowed to be a night person? Am I not allowed to be an introvert? Are those things not okay? She, bless her, is type A. I guess they are not ok.  Hopefully, despite having another late night, I can be 'happy' tomorrow. Aka get up and go to the beach, I suppose. And I think I'll need to be leaving tomorrow evening, which sort of stinks, but I'd really rather not be in traffic Saturday morning. Even if I hit traffic tomorrow night, I'd prefer that in hopes that my car will be less likely to overheat and pop yet another leak in the radiator hose. I guess we'll see, kiddos. I guess we'll see. Goodnight all.


  1. I really like the mug. :-) You'll have to say more about this tendency to paint trees and waterfalls. Is it that you enjoy painting such things? Or that you find they are the easiest to paint? Or that you've done them so many times that they're the most comfortable?
    The fact they are a recurring theme certainly suggests some sort of significance - I'm just wondering if it is a significant significance, or an insignificant significance. ;-D

  2. Probably all of the above. Also, as I've probably mentioned before, trees and water are two of my favorite things. I really dislike painting or drawing the same things over and over again though, so they might have to be retired for a while unless I find a new way to draw them. Sigh.