Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

Last year my sister and her boyfriend were supposed to go on this crazy trip to the Caribbean – super sweet resort, all inclusive, turquoise water, and only 1 stop on the 3400 mile flight – with two of their friends. But between injuries, unforeseen issues, and other necessary delays, the trip was postponed to April of this year.

When they considered rescheduling back in December, Matt & I were first asked if we’d like to take the place of their friends. After having just taken a really long vacation around Thanksgiving there was no way we could do it. I mean, not only the issue of time off but the cost.

My sister told me to get my damn passport renewed anyway (something Matt and I had been putting off for too long) and so we did. And then promptly forgot all about it.

That was, until February when this question came our way:

“So, those guys just moved to Hawaii and can’t make the trip, you guys busy at the end of April or would you like to go to St. Lucia all expenses paid***?”

***(sort of, more on that in a bit)

And so I started thrift shopping for this trip of a lifetime that I never in a million, billion years would have expected to be taking.

Passports showed up, clothes were purchased, but I couldn’t concentrate on the trip. I had a party to plan this past spring.

Matt, my love, was officially joining the ranks of “old man” status with his 40^th birthday. And I’d been planning his event since January. A surprise party. At a baseball game right downtown at Chase Field.

The sneaking around, the lies and deceit, the preparations for 24 people including his family coming in from 3 different parts of the country, friends who were kind enough to pay for their own tickets, meant get-togethers and taking cash from friends on the down low.

The last thing I did from January to early April was think about St. Lucia.

But then it was time to party at Chase with Matt’s mom, sister, all 3 nephews, dad, step-mom, SIL, MIL, BIL , friends. The euphoria was like Thanksgiving dinner – months to plan and cook, over in a matter of hours.

Pictures were shared, laughs were recounted, everyone went home. And then it was mere weeks away from our departure to the Caribbean. I still barely believed it was real.

In fact, if I’m being perfectly honest here, I still don’t believe that it actually happened. It was like I lifted out of my own body and watched someone who looked like me partying in an all-inclusive resort at the edge of the most beautiful water I’d ever seen for a full week.

Things like this just don’t happen to me and Matt. We aren’t wealthy people. We do okay and pay our bills on time and stuff but a trip like this? No. Never before and never expected. Ever.

To tell all the details would bore everyone, trust me. Our entire first day of vacation was summarily stolen by a number of problems with a number of airplanes and we spent 8 un-scheduled hours in Miami International Airport. That story might become a book someday.

After that debacle the week went by in a blurry haze of sun, sand, salt air, vodka cranberry, sunscreen, dancing, laughs, amazing food, and an overflowing level of gratitude that I could hardly contain. It forced me to notice everything, every tiny detail of every tiny moment we all spent together on that island. The people, the scenery, the vibe. Everything.

The trip revived my waning inspiration.

For the past 4 or 5 months I’ve been struggling with Reckless Mind, trying to get the story down but finding it difficult to see the next move, the twists. I’ve started and stopped the book 3 times. One of those times was a complete reboot from the first word.

Before we left I was stressed. So much had happened in the past few years both personally and professionally and no matter how many massages I wanted to get or essential oils I tried to meditate with, nothing seemed to take that stress away.

Some of us like to call it writer’s block.

I like to call it real life taking over the creative thinking process.

There have been so many people to see, things to do, detours that tried to convince me what my path should be when I actually knew all along what really needed to be done for me to find fulfillment.

I needed to write books. Period.

Not freelance blogs, not ghostwriting, not how-to guides or any of the other things I tried to convince myself would be smart choices. No. I need to write books.

Length? Unimportant. Genre? Unimportant. Story? The most important.

As Matt and I walked the beach for about a half hour on the last day (a moment that came way too fast of course), I shared my plan. And it basically encompasses one thing: I’m giving up being a perfectionist.

I’ve said stuff like this before about just writing and not caring. But I never had a clear-cut plan of what that really meant. While we were away I finally put everything together.

In this age of digital reading and the flood of titles out there that’s the number one thing I need – titles. The more you have the more your name is seen. And of course the more it gets seen the more it sinks in, people buy, review, send you to a best seller status.

I have so much work, at least 5 stories I can think of off the top of my head, that I started back when I was a teen or in my 20’s. Most are within chapters of typing “The End” and I finally realized why I might be having trouble writing Mind.

Because I have too many unfinished characters swimming around in my head pool and until I get them out I won’t be able to hear Shaw telling me what she wants me to say.

I told Matt out on that beach that I was looking forward to getting home and he looked at me like I had turned into a crazy person. Maybe I had become a crazy person. Crazy inspired.

So when we got back, after the jet lag wore off, I extracted the first journal out of my big box of languishing work that I’ve been toting around since age 14 and started transcribing.

That story? It started out as character development and about 600 words. Now? After 4 days of non-stop work it’s almost done and hovering around 6,000 words. Just shy in fact. And I already have cover art in mind.

The title. Locked in.

After that one I plan to start with the 5 stories that are long and close to done. All of them, every last one, will be released this year.

My sister was shocked that I’d gotten over my need for perfection but I told her that wasn’t exactly true. I still want the stories to be terrific. I’m still going to edit like crazy. Because the basis for the work might have been okay but I was also 15 when I wrote some of that stuff. It will need major polishing.

But polish I will. And you want to hear a pretty cool side benefit? Since almost finishing this first one I’m hearing the main character, Carol, less and Shaw just a tiny bit more. I even got a bit of her story developed at the same time. That book will see light this year too.

My resolve for what I do has been 100% revived. I’m in love with my job again. So I guess it’s time I got out of here and did it, huh?

I’ll keep you posted as titles drop.

Like rain in the tropics.

***the larger percentage of cost for this trip was fronted by a fantastic person who I will not name here on this blog, but none of it would have been possible without them. My sister and her man also fronted some cash for the trip. So Matt and I are splitting that cost. That was the deal we worked out with the original friend who couldn’t go, because that person just wouldn’t hear it about paying them back for anything. I literally feel my heart swelling with thanks every time I think about how grateful I am to have had this once in a lifetime opportunity. Saying thank you seems a weak sentiment but I feel so thankful, it’s all I can seem to say! Thanks again to all of you amazing people in my life. I am a lucky girl indeed!

• • • • • • • • • • •
In addition to this drivel I also write books, both fiction and non-fiction.
Learn more on my author page.

Too Bad The Clash Never Answered Their Own Question

I’ve shared in the past some of the issues with our current apartment -- creepy neighbors who seem to follow us from room to room, the fact that there isn’t a real door on our bedroom, the size and layout of the space -- but most recently we had a flood in the basement and after our landlords seemed to not only let it simply drain on its own but to also allow the dampness to fester, it prompted us to ask the age old question ‘should I stay or should I go (now)?’

You all know the next line and if you don’t feel free to check out the lyrics.

So we started looking at apartments with all of the amenities that we really truly would want in a space, mind you, some of which our current place does have but most it doesn’t. Two bedrooms plus a den (or study, loft, enormous extra storage closet, etc.), 2 bathrooms, a functional kitchen with a dishwasher and plenty of storage, decent closet space, a master bedroom sized to fit a king sized bed, a townhouse with no one above or below, parking for 2 cars and access to the T.

It all sounds easy enough, and truthfully it is, but when we started looking the harsh reality of the Boston housing market came to smack us around while it taunted us with dollar signs and 80’s décor.

The first place we looked at was in Norwood. ‘Where the hell is Norwood?’ you might wonder, don’t worry, I asked the same thing. Just south west of the city this fine town is located smack dab in the middle of the country. But we were encouraged to see that the property had everything on our list and then some.

The T isn’t just close, the commuter rail stops right at the community, the property manager told me I could faux every singe surface of the apartment (non-textural) as long as we painted over it when we left, washer/dryer in the unit, hardwood throughout, large private back patio with extra outdoor storage attached, and end units were available.

Those of you who know me know that I would likely spend little time on the patio because country = bugs and I just don’t do bugs. No matter how nice one’s patio furniture is spiders simply kill it for me. I shudder just thinking about it. Of course Matt would love it so that was a half a plus. It was in our price range but on the reaching end so neither of us were sure we wanted to reach quite that far to be quite that far from everyone; on a good day in no traffic it would take our family and friends at least 40 minutes to get there. Boo.

We went back on the hunt to look for communities and came across a newer complex in Southie. Right at the water’s edge and sort of next to UMass, the place consists of two really gorgeous semi high rise buildings. Based on their info online it had pretty much everything we were looking for but was a lot closer to our loved ones.

So we popped in and asked to see their 2+ bedroom unit. She quite literally frowned at us and said her next available appointment was at noon on Sunday. I referenced the ‘Open House’ sign on the front lawn and received no response. OK, thanks, bye.

On the same day we came across the find of all finds. A townhome community that had all the same stuff as the place in Norwood but it was located in Marshfield just a couple miles from Rexhame beach. Matt and I both grew up at the beach, the beach is where it’s at for us, and after spending a considerable number of years at the south shore, we know just where we’d love to land. Marshfield is a close runner up though so for a rental, it sounded perfect.

We saw photos online of the space and it looked great; nice community building, good size living room and bedrooms and their deluxe model even consisted of a front hall storage closet that was about the size of our current bedroom.

When we got there however, I instantly started singing Oh Mickey and was really bummed that I had left my can of Aqua Net and Balloons at home.

The kitchen was the first room on the left, half bath on the right. Both consisted of confetti and paint splatter style (?) rolled vinyl floors in shades of blue and pink plus white melamine cabinetry which could be doable but the rounded rectangle wood pulls really did nothing to make me want to sign a lease. In a final flourish, the countertops were squared off laminate. Oh yeah, and pink. Like, a grandmother’s bathroom, rose colored, pink. I hardly even noticed the deep pile, baby blue carpet everywhere once we got upstairs and saw that both full baths were decked out the same way.

No soundproofing between the units was a big concern of un-cosmetic proportions and although it did have 2 car parking and heat lamps in the bathrooms (score) it just didn’t seem worth the price considering it was only $100 less expensive than the country apartment.

Of course she did say that some units had forest green countertops and that they were just starting to remodel all of the community’s homes. Starting with the one bedrooms. I guessed we’d be almost retired by the time they got around to all of the townhomes considering the model was stuck in a time warp. We thanked her for her generous time and headed out on our merry way, a little dejected but hopeful.

On the way home we talked at great length about what to do. And then we continued to discuss it for the rest of the weekend. There are things about our current place that we just can’t change but one of the major draws of this apartment from the get go was the price. If we were to consider the place in Norwood, we’d be paying about $600 more a month, and I know that comes with a slew of ‘buts’ on the pro side of the page so it is a tough call.

With all that in mind we started talking about just renting a single family instead. Of course that conversation led right into buying a home. Now you all know we filed bankruptcy last year, as I’ve discussed in length before, so it will be a couple years before we’d be able to do anything about obtaining a mortgage.

So herein lies the dilemma -- stay here and save boatloads of money toward buying a home in a couple years but have to live daily with the creepy neighbors and a coin-op washer and dryer in a mold infested basement, or go and save a bit less money in the short term but be more comfortable in the daily flow of life.

As I type the question I am bombarded by what sounds like the people upstairs (the landlord’s son by the way) bowling in their living room. Sigh.

Matt plans to ask our landlord if we can make a few improvements around here (like new flooring in the kitchen, bath and mud room, a new vanity in the bath and permission to paint the stark white walls with the promise that they will be repainted when we go) and if they say yes to all of that we’ll likely just suck it up and stay for the foreseeable future.

I’ll just have to readjust my bathroom schedule so our neighbors don’t pee at the same time as me everyday, all the time, anymore.

All the Things that Kick Ass, Today

Since I am seriously lacking inspiration to contrive an awesome story, I am going to follow suit with a few posts I’ve read recently and create my list of all the stuff I am thankful, grateful and happy to have in my life. By no means is this list complete, in fact it will probably change tomorrow as I tend to enjoy expanding and contracting with the current flow of the day. But since it is still today, here goes nothing (in no particular order of course).

The notebook and pen that I always have with me
Sunglasses
Water
Amazing friends
Fruit smoothies
The beach
Sunshine
Flip flops
Shorts
Pasta salad
Corn on the cob (buttered and salted) with a beer on the back deck
Matt loving me despite the fact that I am a cranky bitch in the morning
Matt loving me despite the fact that I am a cranky bitch, period sometimes
Dishwashers
Recycling
Summer veggies
Dinners and laughing all night with family
My sharp mind
Inspiration in little everyday things
A full belly
Pictures from great days spent with great people
A steady hand even after cutting in 2500 square feet of ceiling
The ability to read and write
Writing that I am recoculously proud of having done
Quiet days alone
Evening walks around the neighborhood
The Farmer’s Market
Flowers
Freshly washed sheets and towels
Snuggly sweatshirts on chilly nights
Snuggly snuggles on warm, or chilly, nights
Being open to new experiences
Music
Hardwood floors
A roof over my head and a bed to sleep in every night
Chardonnay
All six of my senses
Hot showers with a low flow shower head
Everyone who reads my blog
Everyone who writes a blog that I love to read
Having the coolest sister on the planet
Anxious excitement for an upcoming road trip
Seeing two amazing musicians smack in the middle of that road trip
Travel and exploration
Feeling grounded at home
Everything Else

Who Rocks More Than You?

The answer you’re looking for would be no one.

You have flown back to the land of sun and parties to mold the young minds that are entrusted to you every day; to live your life in the place you call home while I live my own in the place I call mine. I think I must have put on about 10 pounds from all the beer but then worked it right back off again from all the laughter this past week.

We dropped W off at Logan at about 8:30 this morning which sounds strange even typing it. I had to think about it for a minute; it feels like I have lived two days since sending her off with a huge hug and a fly safely curbside because Matt and I are gearing up to take off on our annual vacation with friends tomorrow bright and early. I miss the days where it was possible to go and sit with someone in the very uncomfortable vinyl chairs right at the gate and give them that one last hug right before they boarded the plane.

We had one wild week of so much fun and sun I would be in a blur if it was not for the photos. Someone once said something to the effect of “I love digital photos, they allow you to reminisce immediately” and that is what we have done all week. There were many times spent just the two of us to talk about life and family or friends, as well as many others completely surrounded by those same family and friends making new memories that we will no doubt laugh about for the next twenty years.

Man I miss her already.

But such is life across the great wide expanse of our wonderful nation and really there is nothing like that old cliché -- absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Because I am unable to format a rational thought to put it all together I will let the pictures do part of the talking for me this time.

Our first morning at the cottage, this little rascal was chomping away.




We went down to the beach to watch the huge thunder and lightning storm that was moving across the land somewhere down on The Cape and then out to sea. I took literally fifteen photos trying to get my third shot of lightning but to no avail. The clouds were cool but nothing was cooler than my company. W and Matt were naturals, like Abercrombie and Fitch models or something. Work it.







Mom, M & our nephews came down for an afternoon of fun in the sun and although the boys had never seen the ocean graze over their toes they were completely enthralled as I taught them about the undertow and why you should always face the waves as they break. They also loved to learn from W about the sandbar, what it was and how it formed. As I heard things only my Grampa used to say coming out of both of our mouths all day it really made me smile that we could pass it on to the next generation to learn about and respect the sea.




This is a pretty common sight, sorry about the screen.




Although the 4th is when the nation celebrates Independence Day, on our little mile long stretch of sand the real party happens on July 3rd every year. Since I can remember there have been bonfires and fireworks on the beach that night. Technically fireworks are not legal in Massachusetts but neither are bonfires on the beach yet a company hired by the town trucks in hundreds of pounds of unused palates and other wood to build thirty foot high teepee shaped piles that are primed and ready to burn at the end of each street. Never in all the times we have gone to this fiesta have there been that many people or that large a display. It was awesome.






Check out a video of the fireworks and fires.

On the 4th we cooked out with a bunch of family and then took a nice long walk down the beach. Then of course I had to pee because, well, that is just me so W and I went back to the house then back to the dunes to meet up with everyone. My legs are still feeling the burn. Or maybe that is from earlier that walk when I deluded myself into thinking that doing gymnastics on the beach after sixteen years was still a good idea.

Despite what I said earlier this was a week I will never forget.

Stand in Awe

As inspired by taking part in some really fantastic comment discussions recently on subjects ranging from pastry to politics, how these things relate to superheroes and the fact that everything old is new again.

When I was a very young girl I lived in a tiny town called Humarock. If you read me over the fall and winter last year no doubt you heard all about it. The beach and that town in particular, have been the inspiration for many of my endeavors. My business name, Chucka Stone Designs, is a direct derivative (Hum-a-Rock, Chuck-a-Stone). Since a couple family members owned houses there I spent nearly every waking moment on the beach as a kid and as many as I could spend each year after. See my profile picture of me at age three. I still like to be barefoot as much as possible. For a short time when we were kids we lived in my grandparent’s house and my favorite thing about it was the fireplace on cold nights. My sister and I would take our night time shower, wash the dishes from dinner and then toast marshmallows while our hair dried and we watched Wonder Woman. We would go to bed smelling like a campfire, without all the pesky bug bites, knowing that girls who owned invisible jets and deflector cuffs ruled.

As I moved into grammar school, the Care Bears, Strawberry Shortcake and My Pretty Pony reminded me why I was much more partial to trucks and climbing trees so it was no surprise I was drawn to cartoons like Inspector Gadget instead of Muppet Babies. With so many movies being made from old television shows these days it is only a matter of time before someone turns that one into a blockbuster hit. Oh wait, I almost forgot, David Kellogg tried using Matthew Broderick as Gadget back in 1999. It is really hard to keep up.

The current new millennium blockbuster based on a truly one of a kind old time show starred the guy who actually voiced the character of Gadget. How sad that even in 80’s animation Don Adams was pigeon holed into the role of a bumbling idiot spy just like his character Max in Get Smart from twenty years prior.

Now Maxwell Smart was the coolest dork I had ever seen on late night syndication. I mean, seriously, he had a shoe phone for crêpe sake, how could he have not been superfly?

The real secret to both Gadget and Max of course is that they never really did anything right and the women in their lives, Penny and 99 respectively, were the real crime solvers and spy thwarters just like Diana Prince as Wonder Woman. These ladies were the quiet force to be reckoned with even though they were likely dubbed as total geeks; Diana could bench press a football team, Penny’s only friend was a dog and 99 was a multi-lingual violin player.

The moral lesson: Never underestimate the power of a woman. Even if she is a geek, one day she just might save your life or set you free with her lasso of truth.