travels

In February of 2008, after dealing with the heartache of divorce and living alone again, I traveled to California for a week. Before I went out there, I kept telling myself and anyone who would still still long enough that I was going to reassure my family of friends out there that I was doing okay, that my emotional roller coaster ride was, at last, done. They had helped me hold tightly to my vestiges of sanity when it was after 1am here and all others I knew had been in bed at least a couple of hours. Sue and Paul had thrown out their lifelines to me, making sure I knew I was wanted, I was needed, I was loved. Now, I wanted to show them how much I appreciated having them in my life, that their hours on the phone with me had been a great success, because just look at how well-adjusted and sane I am now! That's what I said, or words to that effect. And I meant it, too.
So, off I flew. I spent Saturday through Tuesday in San Diego with my "little sister" Sue and her family, which includes three loving children she and Cyndi had adopted. It was my first time meeting the children, then 6, 5, and 3, and IT WAS GREAT! I reveled in the constant touch and interaction that little ones are so adept at providing. Every morning, I woke to one or more children trying to get in bed and snuggle with me. Every day I played games and had children climbing all over me, trying to sit behind me on the couch, playing around my feet. And the two dogs? Oh, they loved me! So much attention I got, so much tactile contact! On the Sunday, I got to be part of the oldest girl's belated birthday party, done with a medieval theme and attended by Dorothy, the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion, princesses, knights, the Good Fairy, and Cinderella. Wow! I even had a purple and green sea turtle painted on my face! The next day, Cyndi took me to some of my old stomping grounds by the naval base and out to the children's school to meet some of their teachers. On Tuesday, I got to spend some time one-on-one with Sue, talking and laughing like we did in college, having a drink or two along the way. Overall, not a fancy time, but a good time, a time of sharing each others' lives up close.
I got so very, very spoiled, but I didn't realize just how much until later. Sure, I did cry a little when I left them on the Wednesday to fly up to San Francisco. But I made sure they didn't see the tears because the two children who had come along didn't want me to go, either and I didn't want them to cry. But I had friends in El Cerrito waiting for me, my best friend Paul and his wife, and I was just as eager to see them. I had not yet even met Cathy!
They met me at the airport with open arms and loving hearts and took me immediately to one of their favorite sushi houses. The rest of my stay with them was spent constantly in their company, starting every day with Paul at one of his two favorite coffee houses. We spent the days going to standard tourist spots and doing standard tourist things (dining at Fisherman's Wharf and gawking at the seals, walking halfway and back on the Golden Gate Bridge) but also traveling on paths less known (going to the Awards banquet for the Search And Rescue group Paul is in, picnicking at almost 4000 feet on Mount Diablo, watching the sunset on Ocean Beach). Fabulous! Sharing the places and foods they loved with me, sharing hugs and laughter and happy times with me. Oh, so very spoiled I became.
After watching the sunset over Ocean Beach (shown on my blog, but with a fogbow), we had Thai food and they dropped me off at the airport. So far, so good. I do well at entertaining myself at airports, mostly walking up and down, looking at everything. The next morning, I was greeted back in Savannah by John & Deatre and had breakfast with them and the kids. Nice welcome to my regular life! Ah! Then, that afternoon, I joined my teammates at the bowling alley and regaled them with tales of Cali and felt great!
And then I went home. To my empty house with the suitcase waiting to be unpacked. No one there to greet me, to give me hugs, to provide contact. No one to touch, no one to touch me. And... I... lost... my... mind. I cried like I had no reason to live. I had to re-learn how to be alone again. It took a couple of weeks for me to get to the point of not crying myself to sleep.
Two weeks ago, I traveled again for almost a week in Cali, this time all in San Diego. Sue met me at the airport and we went to the children's school to get my nephew from his summer camp. I shared his room while I stayed, awaking each morning to children around me. I marched with Sue's family (and the children's school) in the San Diego Pride Parade, whooping and hollering with gusto! We went to Sea World and watched the great Shamu and two of his buddies dance in the water, followed by fireworks dancing in the night sky above the immense pool. Cyndi drove me and the kids to Anaheim for California Adventures and I got to ride and ride and ride with the children! Monsters, Inc, Soaring Over California, the Muppet show - great fun! The next day, we all went to Disneyland, a novel experience for me. I had gone to Disneyworld last year (for the first time since I was 18) and we grown-ups found it quite interesting comparing the two parks. We also had a blast each having a young one to share the rides with! I went on Dumbo and Space Mountain with Dylan (now 7), Cartopia and Buzz Lightyear with Cooper (he's 6), and the Matterhorn with Riley (4 in June). What a fabulous time!
And this time, I did not fall apart when I got home. Nope, didn't happen. My singing bird saw to that, though he had not orchestrated the events. No, the cosmos and my angels had intervened on my behalf to make sure my sanity was not mangled after my trip. How so? Airtran, my preferred mode of transport to the other coast, no longer flies from Savannah... but it does travel from Charleston, home of my singing bird. So, this time, I began my Cali trip from his arms in Charleston, on an absurdly early Friday, and ended very late on a Thursday evening, again in his arms in Charleston. My singing bird sent me away with love and welcomed me back with more of the same. I stayed with him until Sunday, when I finally returned to Savannah, just as I have on previous trips to see him. I had touch, that magical sense, my drug of choice, before, during, and after my travels this time. And that has made all the difference.

final outcome

The Southern Cross Novel Challenge 2009 has ended, as of midnight on Tuesday. I had a banner day on Monday, writing more than 6000 words that day... and burning myself out on these characters. You know those movies where there are no heroes, where all the characters are so morally flawed that there is no one to root for? Movies like "Closer" - well acted, lots of name-brand stars, but the characters are just so very wrong in so many ways. You see it once, and you're done with it.

Well, that's pretty much how I felt after my writing splurge on Monday: I was done with these people. All they were concerned with was sex, sex, sex. Not that they were screwing willy-nilly, any ol' body will do. No, they weren't that casual. But they did seem to want to flaunt their sexual prowess and positions and sensations... and it got to seeming a bit overwrought. Poor things, the coming was all they had going for them!

Still, I am proud of myself for giving it a shot and for the amount of progress I made. I ended up 46 of 167, with 17,000 words. Good job! There were about 20 entrants who completed the challenge successfully and got their gold stars. Cool, gold stars! Amazingly, though, there were more than forty entrants who never posted a single word to their count. Not one word. Zero. I have to wonder what happened to them? Did they forget? Did they just give up from the get-go? Maybe my next writing endeavor should explore that little mystery... maybe!

things I've missed

Tonight, I treated myself to a night at the ballpark. No, no cheap beer tonight (like I care about that). No special giveaways. Just a baseball game starring my favorite Single-A South Atlantic League team, the Savannah Sand Gnats. My boys of summer. And here it is already the 1st of July and this is the first game of this homestand that I've attended. I didn't realize how much I had been missing them, and all that comes with them.
So, a la Julie Andrews, here are some of my favorite things about this summer experience. Sitting with Willie Junior and watching him jiggle his eyeballs. Listening to Willie and John and Bruce and Arthur as they cheer on the team and bemoan their errors and the umps' bad calls. Joining in the fray, using my deep voice "so my boys can hear me."
Reveling in the little breeze that swoops through the stadium, renewing our energy. Smelling the popcorn and boiled peanuts and grilled beef hotdogs, and even indulging every so often. Clapping and clapping and clapping, to "working at the Car wash" and "if you're thankful and you know it" and songs I STILL don't know the names of. Saying hey to the regulars, both in the stands and behind the counters. Feeling like I belong to this big, noisy, summer-loving, baseball-maniacal family.
Watching the sun go down, painting the sky with a new palette each time. Sometimes with clouds, of different shape and texture, sometimes not. Light blue darkening to rich purple over the tall Georgia pines. The game lights coming on, bringing brightness to the lush greens and red Georgia clay. The American flag in left center field, always flying her colors, showing us who we are, one nation, regardless of color, sex, religion, education, marital status, job description, politics.
I have really missed this. I've been going to the games since 1996. I've been a season ticket holder for the past four years, but not this year. I knew I would be missing a few games, so I didn't buy my pass. As a result, I haven't been as attentive or attendant as I have in previous summers. I don't even know the names of all of my boys or their positions or their numbers. The boys have been having an especially good season, too, and I've been missing out on that, too. I think I'll go again tomorrow night, even though it'll be Thirsty Thursday and the stands will have far too many loud drunks. The field will be filled with my boys of summer, playing their hearts out on a hot summer night, and I want to be there to cheer them on. Go Sand Gnats!