This Is my Big Toe

Well, hi there after so long. I feel like I’m venturing into a cozy room after wandering an outer darkness for awhile. My room is a parlor with striped wallpaper and fringed lamps, and it contains a roaring fire and dozens shabby, genteel wingback chairs. In those wingback chairs lounge virtual blog friends of times past. You, my blog friends, are ghostly as yet — but welcoming — and my chair sits in the middle of everyone, already warmed by the fire.

This is my big toe venturing back into blog-world. It needs a little warming up, so I shall stretch it toward the hearth by way of 2010 photos.

Hey, how are you? Drop a line, let me know.

January: Hanalei Bay, Hawaii! Vitamin D! Lots of mai tais!
February: Early spring
March: Oregon coast for one of my impromptu writers retreats
One-eyed doggy a-okay
Happy Easter

Free-For-All Friday

(What is this? My very own meme, which could take the form of other Friday memes out there — random five or ‘fessing up — or non-Friday memes, or anything! Point being to have a little fun and get a little interactive. Feel free to snitch my logo at left and do your Friday thing!)

 

cannonbeach8Today’s a question-for-you day because I’m feeling thoughtful:

What arouses your serene melancholia?

I describe this as a longing, or yearning, that’s unspecific, that feels like it’s one of the mysteries at humanity’s core. It’s a sweet sadness for no reason. It’s serene because it doesn’t require an answer.

Does this make sense? (It might be that I’m a melancholic personality, I don’t know.)

cannonbeach9In any case, the reason I pose the question is because walking into winds on misty beaches arouses my serene melancholia. (Took these photos the first day — before the mist and wind arrived.)

It’s something about the way my eardrums throb with the cold.

It’s something about the way my ears turn into echoing seashells.

It’s something about the way the wind almost drowns out the sound of waves.

 

 

 

cannonbeach10Now, one more dose of serene melancholia before I return to Portland, where the last 30 pages of manuscript quick-reading await me. Didn’t quite reach my goal for this retreat, but that’s okay.

 

 

And one last thought. Saw the following written in sand. “Isaiah 53:5.” It got the storyteller in me wondering why. Nearby, the same person (Robert?) had written “Robert + Kate.”

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What do you suppose these lovers on their romantic stroll (because it was a glorious twilight) were talking about? Isaiah 53:5 says,

     But he was pierced for our trangressions,
        he was crushed for our iniquities;
        the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
        and by his wounds we are healed.

I don’t know the Bible, and I’m not religious. This quotation doesn’t inspire serene melancholia, only uneasiness. However, that said, in pondering Isaiah 53:5, perhaps Robert and Kate felt their own kind of serenity.

The Manuscript Says “Hi”

cannonbeach5The manuscript, nicknamed “Red,” is loving the coast and this lodge. The view is wonderful. That’s Haystack Rock.

But, frankly, Red doesn’t want to be worked on yet. It’s tired and sore after the marathon revision its mistress of verbal torture put it through. It would rather cozy into a robe…

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cannonbeach3and uncork the Australian Cabernet, or maybe read awhile before napping.

 

 

 

 

 

cannonbeach4Red thinks the welcome doggy basket is too cute and wishes it had gotten one. However, there are 24/7 cookies down in the lobby, hopefully chocolate chip, so it can’t complain.

 

 

 

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Oh yeah, Luna says “hi” too. This place is so cool the dog-poop bags are scented!