I’m Happy, But Not a Happy Camper

“Jen” and “camping” are not two things that mix very well. I do enjoy being outdoors, when the weather is decent. I  always love hanging out and socializing in and out of town, day and night. I love watching my kids run and play, free and wild and safe. I don’t even mind sleeping in a tent for one night.

But I  don’t enjoy camping in general. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s not having a private bathroom immediately at my disposal in which to brush my teeth or wash my face. I have tried to figure out these last two years just what it is I don’t like about camping, while so many others enjoy it.

I’m not a wimp; I commercial fished in Alaska for years and paid for my college education that way.  Actually, commercial fishing was perfect for me! I could be in the rugged nature of Alaska, explore remote islands, bounce and roll with the ocean, and embrace the solitude and peace.

But on the boat, I could also shower. Alone. Brush my teeth. Shave. I had the best of both worlds; I was in the midst of nature most people don’t experience, but also with a few regular comforts.

There are a group of families from Larrabee Elementary that gather to camp a few times a year. While George, a fishing captain and Eagle Scout, eagerly gathers our two oldest children and gear for the adventures, I have never gone. I’ve always had my baby, Valerie. I’ve also always had my reservations about camping.

This last Memorial Day weekend camping trip with all the families to Lake Wenatchee outside of Leavenworth, Washington, though, had me curious. What will they do? Where will they go? What will I miss if I don’t go?

I made reservations at a cabin nearby. I wasn’t going to camp, but Val and I would be close. We could come hang with the gang during the day and early evening, and then retire to our cabin a few miles up the road, to our bed and shower….or so I thought. As it turned out, the cabin did not work out. After several unexplainable hints, I realized that something beyond me was telling me to leave the cabin, and to leave now. So I did.

It was not just the remoteness of the cabin that had me rattled, but an additional feeling telling me to go. So, even though I’d already paid nearly $300 for the lodging and received the key, I buckled Valerie back up in her car seat and headed to the camp site where George and the whole group were set up. I felt confused, sad, and out of my element. And tired, after a three-hour drive.

George took one look at me and said to forget the cabin.

“Why don’t you try and call the lodge we stayed at last winter?” he suggested.

“I doubt they have any rooms left,” I replied. I called the Beaver Valley Lodge, anyway. I liked the lodge, and it was nearby the campground. When we joined several families for a winter trip in Leavenworth/Plain last winter, we stayed there. I felt safe and cozy there.

As it turned out, someone had JUST cancelled their single room at the lode just before I called, so Valerie and I were able to get in. And, for a price much less than the cabin.

One of my friends (who was camping) drove with me back to my original cabin to get my things out of it and return the key. I had to pay the cost of the cabin in full before receiving the key, so she was also going to try and help me get some of my money back for not staying there after all. Unfortunately, it did not work out and I was out $300.

I high-tailed it to the Beaver Valley Lodge. I’d felt rattled, shaken, tired, and generally off most of the day. By the time I arrived at the Beaver Valley Lodge, I felt calm. Happy. Relieved. I don’t think it was a coincidence that a room perfect for Valerie and me happened to open up just when I needed it. And our front desk helper was fantastic. She was kind, helpful, and even walked us to our room.

I knew then the camping trip was going to work out after all. I fell asleep peacefully each night and woke up to a view of pastures, barns, farm houses, and mountains. Val and I visited the Lake Wenatchee camp site and all the friends, and then returned to our room. When my Eva got sick one night and threw up in the tent shared by her father and brother, she came and stayed with me at the lodge.

I read a book, blew bubbles with Val on the lodge porch, visited the General Store and Hardware Store for food and treats, and also used the laundromat. I did not get to enjoy the camping trip the same way as all the others, but I certainly enjoyed the weekend. I got to watch my two girls nap side-by-side. I visited the campsite, enjoyed visitors at the lodge, read, rest, and slept.

While I didn’t officially camp, and still don’t have a full understanding of what exactly these Larrabee family camping trips entail, I left the weekend feeling happy, satisfied, and grateful for the weekend I did have.

Please enjoy some pictures from the Beaver Valley Lodge and Lake Wenatchee. Thank you Norene and Leanne for allowing me to borrow some of these images!

 

 

“Do Not Tell The Boys”: Archiving Another Year of a Family.

I first started keeping a journal when I was seven years old and in second grade. It was a yellow Care Bears journal, complete with lock and key. I don’t think the lock worked too well, because the last time I looked through its pages, I’m pretty sure I saw what could be identified as my oldest sister’s teasing writing within. Regardless, it is the first journal I kept.

I kept journals all through high school and each summer commercial fishing in Alaska. Working as the leads-and-web-gal on our crew in Southeast Alaska, I’d write page after page on our way out to sea, on our way to  the next opening. The crew would even tease me as I sat hunched over the galley table, writing furiously.

“Dear Diary…” they’d say as they walked by.

No matter. I wrote and wrote about the last fishing opening, pounds caught, money made. I’d describe in detail about our days and nights in Ketchikan. The pizza dinners, bowling nights, and nights sneaking into the bars to play pool and shoot darts before the wise waitress kicked us out for being 17 20 years old, not 21.

George and I are getting ready for the last major remodel of our home. This has required that I address stacks of photographs and miscellaneous items I’ve put off dealing with. Today, I skipped the gym. After I dropped Eva and Vincent off at school, Val and I came home and got right on it.

New photo album empty and ready to receive, I looked at and sorted pictures of George and me in Dutch Harbor. George and I hosting parties in our Ballard beach front apartment. Later, in our Ballard house. I found pictures of our now deceased pup, Toby. My car pre-children, an Infiniti sedan. Our nine-month long basement project of seven years ago, which involved digging into the earth, under the house, to create a man cave and an additional one-thousand square feet of living space.

I don’t write in a traditional journal these days, but I am still the family archivist. This blog, my scrapbooks, and photo books all help capture our family history.

In years past, I would use embellishments, dye cuts, and fancy stickers to decorate my scrapbooks and albums. These days, as a mother of three young children, I’ve found that their own creations serve as both decoration and content.

What I especially love are the notes my children leave around the house. I smiled more than once this morning as I glued their special notes in the book. Here are a few:

“Hi Dad. Come bak. I love you. From Vincent.”

“Happy Jen. Are you Jen? Mom Day.” (Vincent)

“Happy Mom Day. From Big V.”

“I love you so mush!” (Eva)

“Pleas don’t take my tooth. Thank you! Tooth Fairy!” (Eva)

“Jen Rocks.” (Vincent)

“I love Mom. XOXOXOXO.” (Vincent)

“Please don’t take my tooth. Thank you.” (Again, Eva)

“To Eva, From Vincent. I howp you well be fiyn at the E.R. It is going to be betre soon.”

“I love Mom. Love Vince.”

Last but DEFINITELY not least, from a little girl in Eva’s class:

“Dear Eva, come to my party in the Girl’s bathroom. DO NOT tell the boys. It will be after lunch.”

I may not be able to sit hunched over a galley table or comfortably reclined on a couch in my living room to write page after page in journals these days, but try as I might, I will capture these blessed days of children and family.

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Larrabee Elementary Rocked the Parade, and Four Weeks to Go.

I got together with a couple of families from Larrabee Elementary last week to get organized for the Junior Ski to Sea Parade. Our main purpose in gathering was to attach our bright yellow-and-black Larrabee banners to George’s flatbed truck, which, if George arrived home from Alaska in time, he would drive in the parade. The banners were adorable and locally made; they featured our Larrabee Bee and our slogan, “Celebrating 124 Years.”

George was in Alaska catching our halibut and blackcod quota. Fortunately, our good friend Matt was able to fill in for the banner-tying. Another family came over for the banner fun, and I have to say, it was actually a ton of fun. By the time the pizza arrived and we’d sat on the deck in the sunshine, enjoying the view of Bellingham Bay and sharing more than a few laughs for a good solid hour, Matt suggested we actually get to those banners.

Oh, right! The banners.

Matt attached  two to George’s truck, and then the kids had fun marching up and down my front yard with the third and longest banner. Next, the children marched through the neighborhood with the banner. They laughed, we micro-managed, and I have to say it was a most hilarious evening.

The next evening was the parade. I was on the phone that afternoon with my friend, Carole, the official Larrabee parade organizer, when G literally pulled up in his Jeep from the airport, fresh from Alaska. He made it just in time to drive the truck in the parade!

To the parade we went. We were not alone. Tons of Larrabee students, family, staff, and alumni showed up to march with us all. We had yellow and black balloons, kazoos, banners, cheer, and joy in abundance. As we marched down the parade route, I saw people clapping for Larrabee.  Giving Larrabee the thumbs up. A few even shed a tear or two as they smiled and waved to us.

I felt like shedding a tear or two, myself. For in about one month, our school will be closed forever as an elementary school. Our students, families, and staff will be split up and dispersed among the district and other schools. But I didn’t cry this day. I smiled proudly and watched our children march strongly and happily with the Larrabee banner. I listened to them chant.

“Larr-a-bee! Larr-a-bee!”

Our Larrabee children were darling. I took in the event and the children and the families. I stored in all in my heart, where it will remain always.

Please enjoy two parade videos taken by another Larrabee Mom, Norene, and some pictures I’ve gathered from Leanne, Carole, and me.

Go, Larrabee!

 

 

 

Larrabee Elementary in Jr. Ski To Sea Part 1

 

Larrabee Elementary in Jr. Ski to Sea Part 2

 

G is Off to Alaska. Also, Care Package Ideas for Commercial Fishermen!

George is getting ready to take off to Alaska tomorrow. He has spent over twenty years in Alaska during the halibut and blackcod longline season, catching quota. For the last thirteen years, he’s spent it on our family boat catching our own quota. We recently reduced the size of our quota, however, so instead of spending a few months in Alaska this time, he will likely be gone just a few weeks.

You all know how much I enjoy receiving comments through this site. Most recently, I received an e-mail from a darling gal named Melody. Here is part of what she wrote:

I actually came across your site while on a Google hunt – I am new to being a girlfriend of a commercial fisherman. I would very much like to send him a care package but quickly realized that I have no idea of the wants/needs of a fisherman at sea!
If you could provide me a brief list or ANY ideas, it would be MUCH appreciated!
Thank you in advance :)  

I was so impressed with Melody; not only was she NOT complaining about dating a fisherman who would soon be leaving, she wanted to send him off with something special! I used to do the same when G and I were first dating. So, I immediately went into my blog archives to find the list of commercial fishermen-gifts a few of us compiled years ago.

Here is the revised list:

Care Package and Gift Ideas For Your Commercial Fisherman

  • A package of his favorite treats to take on the boat. Candy, cookies, peanuts, crackers, chips, etc.
  • A special “boat cup” (Not glass, boat-safe, can be bought at fisheries supplies or sporting goods stores).
  • New set of boat dishes; the kind you buy at marine supply stores made of hard plastic with non-skid rubber on the bottoms.
  • New galley towels. They get dirty and ruined so fast, it’s nice to have something fresh and clean!
  • A small photo of yourself, the children, or your pets in a frame.
  • Create a photo book of your favorite pictures together at Shutterfly, Snapfish, or Costco. They are easy and fun to make, and you can add quotes and messages on every page if you want. He can take the book with him on the boat.
  • A photo calendar. These can also be created at Shutterfly. I create one every year and send it with G to look through in the wheelhouse throughout his months away.
  • A book. A light read is usually better (skip the self-help or how to improve your relationship, ha ha!).
  • Have kids? Have them draw pictures that you can bind together (or let a copy shop bind) into a book.
  • Magazines.
  • Warm hat.
  • Gift card to a fisheries supply store.
  • New rubber gloves.
  • A small portable DVD player and a couple of DVDs to go with it.
  • iTunes gift card.
  • iPod.
  • Noise-cancelling headphones.
  • Dinner gift certificate to use together when he returns home.
  • Massage gift card.
  • A warm, snuggly new boat blanket or sleeping bag.
  • Fresh new boat pillow and pillow case.
  • Nice, fluffy boat shower towel.
  • Long underwear made especially for sub-zero temperatures.
  • An e-reader; Kindle, Nook, iPad, whichever you like. I got George an inexpensive Kindle for his birthday, not sure if he would be into digital reading or not. As it turns out, he loves it! He reads his Kindle all the time whether at home or on the boat.
  • Visit the shopping sites Personal Creations or Lillian Vernon online and create personalized gifts.
  • At Personal Creations you can make a “World’s Greatest Longliner” or “World’s Greatest Crabber” (you get the idea) t-shirt. Another fishing wife and I surprised each other last year when we both made the same exact shirts for our husbands and then posted pictures of the shirts on Facebook!
  • Engraved and personalized beer mugs, pitchers, or shot glasses.
  • Electric blanket for crab season.
  • Binoculars.
  • Head lamp for bunk reading.
  • Pillows, blankets, plates, etc., created with pictures of you, your children, or pets. He’s going to use these items anyway; why not personalize them for him?
  • Wool socks.
  • Talking picture frame. He will love a frame that features a recording of you or his children speaking. He can take it with him to sea and listen to it over and over again.
  • Cards, envelopes, and stamps. Pre-addressed to you! All he has to do is write and mail.

Melody, I hope this gives you some ideas or prompts other good ideas! Thank you so much for writing. It made me recall the days when I was a fishing girlfriend and would send G off with fun stuff. Time goes fast; enjoy these sweet early days together. :)

Only Good Times Ahead. Cheer For Larrabee Elementary in the Parade!

I am so excited; it’s supposed to be 79 degrees on Thursday.

I was shocked when I saw that forecast on my weather app.

“How can this be?” I asked George. “How can it go from 54 degrees and rainy, to 79 degrees and sunny in just a few days?”

I was looking for both a literal and figurative answer. But in the end, who cares? It’s going to be in the high 70 degrees on Thursday, and I can’t wait. Too bad the pool doesn’t open until May 12!

We are gearing up for the end of the school year. For us at Larrabee Elementary, it’s not just the end of another school year, but the end of our school.

I have been hard at work with PTA officers to get our Larrabee Elementary parade entry lined up. George will be driving our flatbed truck, in which many of our Larrabee children, parents, and staff will safely stand and cheer within guardrails along the parade route. In addition, we have designed and ordered three dynamic yellow-and-black banners; one banner that several children will hold and walk with in front of the truck, and two smaller banners that will attach to either side of the truck.

We will have balloons, noise, cheer, singing, and fun all along the parade route.

I am so excited! Look and cheer for all of our entire Larrabee Elementary family in what is formally known as the “Junior Ski-t0-Sea-Parade” but what is commonly known as the “Kiddie Parade.”

We will be singing the Larrabee song:

“We are Larrabee;

Busy, busy, busy, as a Bumble Bee;

Learning, growing, being all that we can be;

‘Cause I’m at Larrabee, and you’re at Larrabee;

We are Larrabee;

Bzzzzzz!”

This is going to be so cute; if you’re local, you won’t want to miss it. Come on down to the parade and watch these adorable, resilient children march on down the street. These are all children who are leaving their dear, familiar school and heading for new schools next year.

If you are a past or present Larrabee student, please ride or walk with us and celebrate a gracious and celebratory end to our 124-year old neighborhood and community school.

In addition to this fun, I’m just excited for the rest of spring and all of summer. We have a camping trip coming up. A boat trip. The pool opens in mid-May. My birthday cruise is at the end of August. Nothing but sunshine and smiles, friends and family ahead, God willing.

See you at the kiddie parade, if not sooner!

Commercial Fishing Deaths: Fate, or Something Else?

One of my favorite things about writing this blog the past seven years continues to be reviewing feedback. Whether that feedback appears in the form of comments on the blog, questions submitted through the contact form, or comments and likes left via Facebook, I read and analyze it all. I study the search terms that lead people here. What are people looking for? Searching for?

I received a unique inquiry recently. Honestly, this was one of the most thought-provoking requests for insight into the commercial fishing life I have received in a long time. It comes from British journalist and author Richard Benson, who is based in London and the author of The Farm: The Story of One Family and the English Countryside.

Here is the inquiry:

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I am a British journalist and author based in London, and I am looking for someone who might be willing to tell me a little about the commercial fishing life you write about. It is research for a story I am hoping to write for one of our newspapers over here. I write quite a bit about people who do dangerous or challenging physical work. 
My most recent book, for example, is about one side of my family who worked in coal mining. The men in the family suffered several serious accidents underground, one of them fatal. When these accidents happened, people who might have been on the scene, but had by chance avoided it, often talked about fate, and say they believed that your life was all planned out for you, and when it was your time to go, you would go, etc.  It was basically superstition, but I think deep down a lot of people did believe in it, and had ideas about how and when fate really worked. 
I have come across similar ideas in soldiers and shipbuilders. I am trying to write something about this idea of fate, and how it seems to quietly crop up among people doing extremely dangerous work. I am interested in whether it affects people in countries outside Europe, and so have been trying to look up writing about Alaskan fishermen, as I know the job is incredibly dangerous. I wondered if you had any sort of experience or insight of fishing people thinking or talking about this sort of thing? Not necessarily in a big, dramatic way – it could just be a short observation. Or is it something that actually never occurs to people? That in itself would be interesting, too. I do hope this makes some sort of sense! I would be fascinated to know what you think.

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I am currently in the process of sorting through my myriad of thoughts on this topic. I invite you all to weigh in. I don’t think you need to be an Alaska fisherman; I think the subject applies to all commercial fishermen and fishing families. It especially applies to all fishermen and fishing families who have lost a friend or family member to the sea in a terrible fishing accident.

What do you think? Fate? Not fate? What are your thoughts? Please share them here or weigh in on the Commercial Fishing Families & Friends Facebook page, where I plan to post the question. Let’s help Richard by sharing our commercial fishing insight.

A Pleasant Spring Break After All

A couple of weeks ago, G asked if I was up for a spring break trip to Florida. Ten years ago, I would have been like, “YES! YES! Let’s GO!”

But now, I had multiple things to consider before hopping on a plane. For starters, three days’ warning is not enough time to get ready. Eva and Vincent would miss an additional week of school, on top of the week they already missed when we were at the Great Wolf Lodge. Valerie, 2, is only just beginning to communicate with words. How would she do on a plane across country for six hours? And me. I’m not thin enough for Florida! I need a few more months years at the gym!

It was an agonizing decision. I went back and forth. We weren’t ready to go. On the other hand, who on earth would turn down a trip to Florida?

Well, I did.

I asked if we could go twice. Maybe George could go now by himself, and the rest of the family could go in June on a second trip after school was out.

Fortunately, G agreed. The intent of this spring trip was to check out a boat. If G liked the boat, he would buy it and then later, bring it around the Panama Canal on a six-week boat ride. And then, once school was out, we could go back as a family and stay on our favorite island. Plan made. Done.

One day into the childrens’ spring break, though, I regretted my choice. It was pouring down rain. Cold. Gray. Awful. What idiot would have said no to a sunny, Gulf of Mexico vacation for typical cold, windy, rainy Pacific NW yuck? Well, we know exactly who.

Two days into it, though, the weather began to clear. We attended a bowling party for the 8-year-old daughter of good friends. Eva got to join Buddy Week at karate with Vincent. We went to dinner with other good friends and played “Would You Rather” into late in the evening. I got a massage, and rode bikes with the children to the park. George took the big kids for a car ride south of town, and I played in our backyard with the youngest.

It turned out to be a nice and relaxing spring break. G is currently in Florida. I talked with him briefly today, and word is he didn’t care too much for the boat he flew across the country to look at.

But he will get to visit with his dad next, the sun is shining on both coasts, and all is well.

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Beginning the Small School Transition…

At 8:30 one morning last week, I got a call from the lovely Larrabee Elementary “lunch lady.”

“Hello?” I asked when I answered my cell phone. I was actually parked just outside the school, having just dropped off Eva and Vincent.

“Hi,” she replied. “I’ve sent a note home with Eva for a few days regarding her overdue lunch balance.”

“Oh!” I said. “Ugh! Sorry about that! I didn’t see the note! I will run a check in today.”

“I’ve let the children charge lunches even with an outstanding balance,”she said.

“But I have to tell you,” she continued, “That I’ve spoiled all of our children. I refuse to serve them the “alternative lunch” when their balance is overdue. But this won’t happen at their new school. They will have to keep on top of their balance. I’ve spoiled our children here. But I just wanted to let you know.”

“Oh, goodness!” I said. “Yes, of course. For one thing, I will put more money on Eva’s account. I will also talk to her again about being responsible for her account. Thank you!”

I felt sort of sad when I hung up the phone. I also felt grateful for our lunch lady, who has so patiently waited and helped over the years as thousands of kindergarteners learned lunch numbers. Who has given a pass to those whose balance was overdrawn. Who recently, and  so sweetly, passed my two-year-old, Valerie, a cup of cereal when we joined Eva and Vincent for breakfast before school one morning.

When Valerie was first born, I would call our school school each day. “We will be late!” I’d say. Or, “I told Eva I’d pick her up, but now she needs to ride the bus home! Val is still sleeping!”

“No problem,” our secretary would reply. “I’ll let Mrs. Wilson know. Thank you for calling, and take care.”

I recently called our school to find out if enrichment activities were still on this week, the week before spring break.

“Didn’t you get the schedule?” someone asked me. “It’s on the schedule. Didn’t you get it?”

“Uh…yes…I’m sure it’s here somewhere, but I’m not sure where…so I thought I’d just call…” I said.

We got it sorted out. However,  I missed the person who sat at the desk before our school was slated for closure. Who would have told me with enthusiasm, “Yes! All activities are on this week. Any other questions I can answer?”

As I hung up, it just reminded me this is something I must get used to. So many of us in our current environment are used to life in a small, loving, close-knit public school. We are used to being “spoiled.”

We must now begin to transition…children and parents alike.

Celebrating Those Who Have Returned From Sea, Mourning Those Who Will Not.

George and the crew have returned from the 2014 Dungeness crab season. I have not yet gone down to the harbor to snap pictures of the post-season gear work that consists of getting 500 pots off the boat, stacking them in lockers at the harbor, and a variety of other tasks. This year’s crab season was not great, as there were very few crab around.

The upside is that George said there were many “recruits.” Recruits are all the female and young crab the guys throw back into the ocean. These crab indicate a potentially boom season in the next couple of years. Fishing seasons run in cycles, and we don’t get too upset about a slow season, knowing it will come back around as it always does.

The important thing is that everyone arrived home safe and alive. You never know, when you wave the boat off at the start of a season, if that will be the last time you see one of the guys you are waving to. Without fail, I go to the harbor and wave and hug and send the boat off  at the start of every single season, because you just never know.

Tragically, the Oregon commercial fishing community will not receive one of their fishermen home this year. Just last week, our sister fishing community lost one of their own to the Bering Sea. Eric Eder, who by accounts from every single person in the Oregon fishing family was an upstanding, awesome, fun, friendly, wonderful man, leaves behind a beautiful wife and young family. You can read more here.

This hurts everyone. Personally, news like this always causes me to reflect back to 1997, when my own brother-in-law, Danny, was lost to the sea during the Alaska crab season. Married just a few months, my sister’s vibrant and exuberant husband was never found. I’ve written a bit about Danny here. I have never shared much about the grief of our families on my blog or otherwise, because the grief is so private and painful.

However, I will never forget going about my regular morning all those years ago. Then, the phone call. The panic. The confusion. The denial. The hope that it was all a mistake. The realization. The horror.

The fact that another family is experiencing this right now leaves us all with a heavy heart. We welcome and celebrate the fishermen who have returned safe to the harbor, but mourn the ones who will never return. We cry for  their wives, their children, their families, their friends.

And please, don’t forget the Lady Cecelia. Just two years ago, in March of 2012, I wrote about my thoughts concerning the tragedy of this Oregon trawler that disappeared into the sea in a matter of seconds off the Washington Coast, taking all four crew members with her. You can read that post here.

If you are able, I encourage you to take a moment and give to the family of Eric Eder. Donations can be made here.

Imagine if you were a fishing wife one moment and a fishing widow the very next. If financial giving is not an option, please pray for Eric Eder and his family. I can tell you that time does not do much to ease the excruciating pain of a fisherman lost, but every little bit of kindness, love, and support does help.

God Bless, Eric Eder.

God Bless, Eric Eder.

 

Great Wolf Lodge and Smooth 70′s iTunes Radio

Each week, I begin doing laundry on Sunday mornings. By Monday afternoon, I’ve finished washing and drying laundry for four (not including George). I toss all of the fresh and clean laundry into baskets in the hallway. I like to walk by and observe the baskets of clean clothes until Wednesday morning, when I fold and pile it all on my bed. At bedtime on Wednesday night, I move the piles neatly to the floor. I admire my floor piles for a couple of days until Friday, when at last, I finally put all the folded laundry away in various dressers and drawers throughout the house.

That’s basically my laundry routine. Yes, I stretch it out. There’s just so much! Eva’s outfits are many and layered.  Vincent insists on wearing a new pair of pajamas each night. I have two set of clothes each day; workout and regular. And let’s not even mention two-year-old Bunny and what she goes through each week!

This week, though, I’m hustling more than usual. I’m trying to get the laundry done, folded, and put away by tomorrow morning because come tomorrow, we are leaving town! I’m so excited. We are making our annual trek to the Great Wolf Lodge. We go every year about this time. The holidays are long over, spring has yet to arrive, and it’s just time to get out of town. G takes a break from the crab season and we go. Some years I have met him at the Lodge and some years he travels with the kids and me.

I got a text message from G last night telling me he’d be home to travel with us this year, which takes some pressure off of me as far as preparations go. I just love going to the Great Wolf Lodge. I am not one to go on the slides or have the giant bucket of water dump on my head (for one thing, I have Valerie to care for, and for another, I have a shoulder that dislocates. Also, I don’t like buckets of water dumped on my head). Still, I love going. We park the car in the lot and never look at it again for three or four days. Meals are taken care of. Housekeeping is taken care of. Kids’ entertainment is taken care of.

We walk around the grounds in sweats and flip flops, adult sippy cups in hand, watching the kids have a great time and having a great time ourselves. Some of my extended family is coming this year, too, as they’ve done in years past. I can’t wait to get there!

After I got home from the gym this morning, I began folding this week’s laundry. As I fold, I like to listen to the Smooth 70s station on iTunes Radio. Don’t laugh! It’s calming. A little James Taylor, Don McLean, and Van Morrison can do a girl some good. Anyway, as I was folding laundry today, G was home and nearby. When the song “Brandy” by Looking Glass (1972) began to play, I sang along. “Brandy” has long been a favorite of mine.

“I love this song,” I said.

“I always have, too,” G replied, surprising me.

All of these years, and I didn’t know we both liked the same song.

See you in a few! Great Wolf, here we come.

Brandy

There’s a port on a western bay
And it serves a hundred ships a day.
Lonely sailors pass the time away
And talk about their homes.

And there’s a girl in this harbor town
And she works layin’ whiskey down.
They say “Brandy, fetch another round,”
She serves them whiskey and wine.

The sailors say “Brandy, you’re a fine girl; 
What a good wife you would be.
Yeah, your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea.”

Brandy wears a braided chain
Made of finest silver from the North of Spain
A locket that bears the name
Of the man that Brandy loves.

He came on a summer’s day,
Bringin’ gifts from far away.
But he made it clear he couldn’t stay;
No harbor was his home.

The sailor said “Brandy, you’re a fine girl;
What a good wife you would be.
But my life, my lover, my lady, is the sea.”

Yeah, Brandy used to watch his eyes
When he told his sailor stories.
She could feel the ocean foam and rise;
She saw its rage and glory.

But he had always told the truth; Lord, he was an honest man.
And Brandy does her best to understand.

At night when the bars close down,
Brandy walks through a silent town
And loves a man who’s not around.
She still can hear him say:

She hears him say “Brandy, you’re a fine girl;
What a good wife you would be.
But my life, my lover, my lady, is the sea.”

“Brandy, you’re a fine girl;

What a good wife you would be.

But my life, my lover, my lady, is the sea.”