Welcome home!

This is the first post of many, or more than one, anyway, documenting my time in OB (Ocean Beach West for any of you New Londoners).

It has been a real trip so far. Overall quite positive, but, well, it's quite a change from my living situations of say, the last 2 decades or so.

The first week I really wondered what the hell I had done. I laid in bed that first night trying to think back to a time that I had lived in such a high-density situation. It was in college, which was back when the chemoautotrophs still used oxidized inorganic matter to extract energy. And which is why, unsurprisingly, my immediate neighbors on both sides in my new home are college students, or very recently graduated.

Did I mention how many of them there are? There are 5 boys on one side and 4 on the other. Yes, we are surrounded by a sea of boys. It could have been really ugly and loud and dirty, but these boys are nice and respectful and quiet. Many of them actually offered to babysit (so maybe they're not nice, but instead a bunch of perverts?). I must seem impossibly old to them. I am almost the age of their mothers, but they smile cheerfully when we pass and haven't yet complained about how loud my girly gang is in the early hours of the morning. They even drag all the trash cans out to the alley each week. But they do look sheepish when they exit the house in the morning with a girl in tow. Because, well, because I am almost the age of their mothers...

Meeting the first batch of these co-eds was actually the first load off my mind that first week. Because, let me tell you, there were other events that, as I've already mentioned above, made me really doubt my rental decision. And sanity.

It started before I moved in, actually. I had looked at the property a few weeks before deciding it was time to move. I really couldn't completely remember the floor plan or other details of the space when I dropped off the hefty deposit, but I knew I left my viewing of the property feeling that  it would work for my peeps, and that the price, rental-agreement length and pet policy were right for me.

The day after dropping of said hefty rental deposit I decided to do a drive by. Oh my. Bad idea. Driving by street-side was okay, even in my very critical state of mind, but then I entered (cue scary, suspenseful music) the alley. Oh how I had forgotten how god forsaken beach alleys can be. They are ugly and dirty and full of dumpsters, recycling bins, cast off random sofas, dog shit and shady characters. They are not a place that someone who is having their first pangs of buyers remorse wants to see.

How could I subject my angels to such a display, I wondered?! But I soldiered on that day, and had occasion to be back in the neighborhood that evening, so bravely decided to put the alley incident behind me and go and look at the glory of the ocean, which is mere feet away from my soon-to-be new front door.

I parked in a spot at the end of the street, and leaned over the fence to gaze at the sea's loveliness. I was starting to feel better about my decision. Whew.

Then I walked back to my car. The car that was next to me when I arrived, and nice looking BMW with two people in it, was gone. In its place? A big heap of puke. I kid you not. OMG, where am I moving?

But move I did. And when the moving van rolled up that morning in September to unpack all my earthly belongings, what greeted us but a giant, gross, scaly ripped-off fish head. Still not joking. It wasn't to the stage that it yet reeked. But, geez? A gross giant fish head?! What was the universe trying to tell me?

You know there is more, right? There is the normal, holy-shit-I-can-hear-people-cooking-and-watching -TV-next-door thoughts as you get used to the new space. There was also the 6:30 am wake up from the airplanes flying over head, which I had somehow erased from my memory.

But the first Saturday night there, a mere 6 days into my stay, the helicopters started at 3:00 am and did not go away until past 4:30 am. And I'm not talking far-off helicopters. These birds were directly over my home.  They were circling and scanning my particular portion of coastline. Hmm, wow, so this is what a Saturday night in downtown OB is going to be like? At least it didn't wake the girls I thought as I drifted back to (bad) dreams.

There was more fodder for these dreams during my first trip to the trash cans the next morning. Luckily I ran into one of the neighbor boys on my way out, holding my bulging sack of food scrapings, broken crayons, q-tips, dental floss and the like, who warned me to watch out for the..................ready for it? Maggots. Yes, maggots! There was a full-force maggot problem out there on the cement in front of the trash cans.

Bugs don't typically bother me, and I refrain from killing them whenever possible, but maggots? Oh how vile. I wanted nothing more than to douse the area with gallons and gallons of Clorox, until there was nothing left but a white, goopy, dead-maggot puddle. But I didn't. I flung my trash and got the hell out of there. If there is a bright side to living next to a battalion of college boys, well, this is it.

To be continued....

I Wasn't There . . .

. . . but apparently Mistah Schleckah went to Boston on Saturday . . . .

. . . at least the photos on the little camera indicate that he did . . .

. . . and indicate that he took photos from riding in his friend's car, on the way into the big little city . . . 

. . . they apparently had a special, secret-code-like-route straight into downtown . . . 

. . . through the neighborhoods of good ol' JP . . . 

Mistah wants me to join him next November; he has it all planned out . . .

. . . and man oh man alive do I have beloved peeps in the greater Boston Metropolitan Area . . .

. . . I mean, my Mom is a born-and-raised Boston girl, and every memory of Thanksgiving as a kid involved Brookline and Reading and Wakefield and Belmont and Waltham and Malden and Arlington . . .

So, yeah, maybe it *is* time for a trip back to Boston . . .

And hey, it's Thanksgiving week; let's head to Grammy's.

me and my sentry

There was one day during mom’s visit when I was free and the kids were in school. The last time we had managed to find a minute to spend alone together just you and me against the world, we were across the globe in Rome. This time we thought we’d keep it simple and explore a more local locale.

We decided to visit the lovely island peninsula of Coronado. Perfectly coiffed and situated, Coronado is the land of lovely landscaped lusciousness. I think I would live quite happily there, should the need arise. For the time being, I’ll find pleasure in the visits that I can afford. And with my mom? This visit was sure to be priceless.

                

We drove over in the late morning, and headed straight to the Del for a good start to our meandering. I made like George Costanza in gloating over the parking space I happened upon, like 3 steps from that inimitable red roof. We walked along windswept dunes and breezy palms to the hotel, and made our way out to the sun deck just as the blustery day began to warm up. We ordered up a drink and some snackie poos, why on earth wouldn’t we? It was gorgeous out there.

We grabbed a seat in one of the corner booths, chatting and catching up and soaking up rays and enjoying the moment. 

 We talked about what we might like to do with this wide open afternoon, and eventually started to prepare ourselves to leave our happy little nest. 

 

Then mom, in her infinite genius and wisdom, suggested that we could just hang out and read….and I positively leapt on board that notion. To sit and read? In the little sunny corner? On a couch? With drinks? Oh, were we ever smug. 

We didn’t stay all day, just until our cups were tragically empty and the sky was starting to spit. We walked through the hotel a bit before heading back to retrieve my car from its righteous parking space. We drove around for a while, I showed mom the silver strand and some of the Coronado neighborhoods that I so love and covet. I didn’t much track our location, it’s an island peninsula after all, there’s not too far you can go without bumping up against an obstacle of some sort and taking a moment to recalculate the route to make your way toward the big blue bridge.  Mom and I just moseyed along, gabbing and gawking and generally moving forward. I had the bridge in sight and headed that way, the gates ahead must be the entry.

Um.

OR.

Those gates were the sentry.

(sĕn'trē)
A guard, especially a soldier posted at a given spot to prevent the passage of unauthorized persons.

Mom suggested that I flip a quick Uturn and get the hell out of naval station dodge… but something deep down inside of me.. something that my MOTHER probably instilled a tender age… told me not to turn back on a one way street to avoid confronting the armed military guard with the enormity of my clueless assholery.

I approached the sentry.

Yup. I approached the motherfucking sentry.

I giggled like I might when unintentionally pulling into a parking garage, I was all: “oops! I didn’t know this was a pay lot! Where’s the turnaround?”

The sentry asked for my license. He walked away with it. Then he pulled out some orange cones and said into his radio: “stop traffic.”

I shit you not.  

Many things run through your head at a moment like this. Things like:  I just made a wrong turn, calm your shit down, soldier! God I’m such a stupidstupidstupid jerk, I’m like freaking Roya with my nice face and evil intentions. But wait, my intentions are so not evil! I’m pure as the driven snow, let me GO!

Turns out he stopped traffic to let me drive out of there, and he realized almost right away that he still had my license.

We finally headed for the blue bridge for realsies, my thoughts firmly rooted in the moment. I definitely did NOT get so engrossed in mom’s reading of our past Rome itinerary that I stayed on 5N all the way to La Jolla.

That would be troubling.

Send help.

Say what?

I know everyone will find this totally shocking -- I am not 100% prepared for today's blog post. The morning has not gone as I would have liked, but hey, whatchagonnado?

Well, what I'm going to do, is share some of the words of wisdom I've been collecting.

Enjoy!

Various and Sundry

Now and again, every once in a while, one must dip into the Vault of Various and Sundry.

Connecticut's State Insect

The Vault of Odds and Ends.

Always, the kitchen.

The Vault of HodgePodge.

Thanks for the mum, Mom.

The Vault of Gewgaws . . .

Anniversary Dinner with my two BFFs.

. . . and knick-knacks . . .

A little singing in P-Town . . . 

. . . and brick-a-brack . . .

. . . and a Friend Of Westy.

. . . and Various and Sundry items.

Always have Mistah with you when you travel . . . 

. . . the Old and Unusual . . .

. . . take my word for it.

. . . and The Hidden Treasures.

And when one is done with that, one can dip into the Vault of New London, and find treasures there, too . . .

Osprey Beach, the last shot ever taken of the wooden dock before SuperStorm Sandy . . .

Bandit and Ledgie . . . Gooood Dawg.

The Coast Guard Academy Bears, who killed the Maine Maritime Mariners. Go Bears.

And finally . . . 

The Love and Joy Tomatoes.

Or as my nephew calls them, 'maters.

We had another killer year.

And I again made pasta sauce, salsa, and ready-made-'maters.

That's right:

Pasta Sauce . . . 

. . . Salsa . . . 

. . . and Ready-Made-'Maters.

And if you think New London's not the funnest place of all after seeing all that? Well lookie here . . .

Look at the hawk we spied in our tree on Sunday . . .

. . . what a beaut, right?

Poor ol' Squirrely may not have thought so, but Mistah and I?
Oh, big fans of our new Feathered Friend.

Who's your blog mama?

None of us loved any of these, but each of us hated at least one. The only fair thing to do is post them all!

I think I should get extra credit for having to hold the camera AND depress buttons while being cheerfully encouraged to grow longer arms.

Thanks for a wonderful night, Pat! I love you people.

Dead again

Yep, it's that time of the year again. Time to celebrate and honor the dead. Here is a look at my girls' school's totally festive 2012 dia de los meurtos event....

Crazy ginormous pumpkin grown on campus!

Love, love, love the Dia de los Muertos shirts this year. Created by one of the 7th grade students.