Fairy Houses and Blue Angels.

I’ve had a bit of Blogger’s Block.  It’s not that there haven’t been things to write about, just the lack of motivation to do so.  I’ve been spending my work days on an intense project that requires me to sit at the computer all day, every day.  By 5pm, my eyes are ready to pop out of their sockets, and every part of me is cramped because I’ve been focused and determined.  So the last thing I feel like doing at night is, of course, sitting in front of the computer to bang out an entry.

With daycare on vacation this week, Terry and I have had to get creative with our schedules.  He’s been going in later and I’ve been coming home earlier.   On Tuesday, G spent the day with Auntie A and buddy N, and today I took the day off.  

I started out the morning a bit bummed due to the low hanging frothy clouds and clingy dampness in the air. By late morning, the sun was starting to poke through.  We were getting out of the house.  I loaded the two G’s into the car, and off we went, my eyes constantly to the sky wondering how far we’d get before the rain would come.  Arriving at my favorite local hike in Harpswell, it was blustery, cloudy, and almost downright chilly.  We were still in August?   But again, I was determined.  I released Gabs while I got G situated comfortably in the backpack carrier.  You would think that the heart-stopping cardio would start sometime halfway through the 2 ½ mile hike, as I’m climbing what feels like straight up hill with this 25 lb kid on my back.   Actually it started the second I stepped out of the car, when the popular Naval dare devil pilots known as “Blue Angels” went soaring by, perilously close, mind-boggling fast, and disturbingly loud.  I seriously considered diving back into the safety of my car and hightailing it back home, but I had already driven this far and was determined to do this hike.   Then I look at G, amazed that I hadn’t yet heard a wail of protest, and find him staring wide-eyed at the sky, showing that goofy gap-toothed grin, and practically cheering them on.  

Off we go.  One of the things I love about this hike is that Gabby can be off-leash and sniff to her hearts content.  She’s always been a good hiking companion.  She stays behind, sniff, snort, snuff, waiting til we’re almost out of view, then comes barreling at us, only to do it all over again.  Midway through the hike, she starts to get ahead of me….and won’t let us get out of sight.  She leads the way, guiding the path, and waits for us if we’re lagging behind.

Despite the four or five cars that were parked at the entrance, we encountered no one except a teenage boy who frantically came running around a corner.  He had a vulnerable panic etched on his face and immediately asked if I knew what those noises were.  By noises, he meant the thundering, bomb-like sounds that made us feel like the forest was going to explode any second.  I reassured him it was just the air-show practicing, he nodded in relief and kept running.  We kept going.

This hike reminds me a lot of the scenery from the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. The forest has a quiet serenity, dotted with clever fairy houses, but it’s almost too quiet.  There’s also a point where you’re walking high along the water, and it reminds me of the scene in Fellowship of the Ring when they’re in canoes, cutting through the river, and Legolas keeps listening and searching the forest that lies parallel, and is riddled with Orcs within.  I think of that every time I get to this particular spot.

Gabs and I push our way through.  G and I are chatting.  I’m pointing out everything around us, singing “The Ants Go Marching One by One” and “99 Bottles of Juice on the Wall, 99 bottles of Juice…” and he’s squealing in various octaves that seem to pierce the silence of the forest floor.  We haven’t escaped the sounds of the massive planes, but the deeper we go into the hike, the less I seem to focus on them.  I realize how out of shape I am when we get to that point where I have to hike straight up and hope I don’t tip backwards with the weight of this kid on my back.  Gabs looks back at me to make sure we’re all right, though I’m not sure what she’d do if we weren’t.   She hasn’t yet mastered the skill of dialing 911.

Just before getting to the spot that I’ve been waiting for, the apex of the hike, where I thought we’d really be seeing the faces of those pilots, G loses it.  It’s like he all of a sudden realized that he did NOT want to be strapped in this pack any longer and that it was past his nap time.  If I thought his squeals disturbed the forest calm, his shrieks and cries seemed to echo. Loudly. Gabs sensed it was time to go, and we veered off the trail, hitting one that would take us reluctantly back to the parking lot.  He was no longer interested in chatting, singing, or having things pointed out to him.  He was interested in the wagon wheel snacks I smartly packed in anticipation. 

Back at the car, I loaded them in, and took off toward home.  Timing was everything.  No sooner did we get ½  a mile down the road when a heavy sprinkle started.  By the time we got home, it was a full-fledge pour and I found myself almost grateful for the meltdown.   Maybe he was like the National Zoo animals that foreshadowed the earthquake.  Maybe he knew the rain was a’comin’ and it was his way of letting me know we had to leave.  Pretty smart. 

Terry came home, and the two relaxed while I made dinner.  It was a clam chowder, grilled cheese and brownie kind of night.  Now the day is winding down, G happily in dreamland, and me mentally preparing to spend Friday glued to my computer and the mind-numbing project.  It can’t be Saturday soon enough.

One of the impressive Fairy Houses we came across.

Chillaxing with daddy, post-nap.

Dog days of summer.

I really had been in denial.  I coasted through last week, despite listening to the news reports, and of course the keeper of all knowledge when it comes to this topic, thinking someone would surely sweep in and save the bookstore at the 11th hour. It didn't happen.  

 I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotion I felt when G and I went down yesterday to get T after his few hours of work before we gallivanted around Portland.  I mean, I KNEW it was happening. I listened to T tell me how customers had taken on a vulture-like mentality, trying to get the discounts even deeper, despite the fact that Borders doesn't even exist anymore.  (I've been affectionately referring to it as "Liquidators" since Friday).  Yet pulling into the parking lot as I've done so many times...it just really hit me. Every window was decorated with either a Going Out of Business Sign or a Store Closing sign.  Far cry from the signs I'd grown used to seeing, promoting the latest book release or author event.  Then to walk in and see the near empty shelves, the computers dismantled, the cafe MIA.  Borders has turned into, as my dad would say, "a shadow of its former self". 

A friend had prepared me for the yellow 'crime scene' tape that was strewn around the cafe, warning people that it no longer existed. What a crime indeed. And yet, the employees were still bustling around, still trying to help as many people as they could, still maintaining the warm, friendly demeanor that has become a staple to a Borders shopping experience.  I asked T if he noticed the regulars coming in throughout this first liquidation weekend, and while some, he said most were people who may never have stepped foot in the building before, but who were just looking for a deal.   One of his employees even caught a shoplifter, who, when confronted, nonchalantly shrugged and said "You're going out of business anyway."  Classy.

Needless to say, we didn't stay long.  We had a gorgeous day ahead of us and hadn't spent it in Portland for so long.  First stop?  Lunch at Five Guys, which opened on Fore Street not long ago.  Five Guys was a place we had acquainted ourselves with in Arlington, VA.  Unlike the clean, corporate look this one has taken on, we remember the Arlington store to be a dive, with peanut shells littering the floor (they're famous for giving you peanuts while you wait for their most amazing burgers and fries).  But the burgers and fries were just as we remembered.  Ah-mazing.  G quite enjoyed his grilled cheese.  

King for a day

From there we meandered our way through the cobbled streets, stopping here and there, marveling at all that has changed in the city where we spent the first few years of our Maine lives.  Final stop? Tree House Toys on Exchange Street.  We must have spent a good hour in there.  Now that G is vertically mobile, he has great fun exploring all the little nooks and crannies that are just perfectly at his height.  Finally, we could sense that alter ego Major Crankypants was likely to make an appearance very soon. Home we went. Despite barely sleeping in the car, he did not want to nap once at home.  Next best thing? Playing in the pool! 

Suffice to say, he had a blast.

I want to drink out of this red bowl!

Frolicking in the pool definitely made him sleepy. As soon as we got him dried off, changed and up to his room, out like a light.  Love these active summer days.

Where did I put my keys and wallet?

To back track, the earlier part of the weekend was brutally hot.  Well, the whole week had been pretty miserable.  I was used to these days in DC, but Maine? Where were the coastal breezes? Where were the cool nights?  Nowhere to be found.  Saturday was super busy.  We had a dual party to go to--celebrating a 2 year old and a 1 year old. Fortunately it was at the same spot, so while it was terribly hot at the 3pm start, it was fun to see the birthday guy and gal enjoy their guests, games and food!  G and I hung out under a tent in an enclosed space with another friend and her two kiddoes. 


The party was in Harpswell. I'd made a plan with my pal to meet me and head down to Stover's Cove to let the dogs swim, Gabby and her bff Buckley, and let the boys enjoy a cool dip.  Imagine our surprise when we arrive to find a car, Prius no less, stuck in the sand at the very entrance, being heaved out by some Good Samaritans.  After they cleared, and two other cars zoomed their way through, leaving a trail of dusty sand in their wake, my pal started to inch her van through the sandy entrance.  I saw brake lights.  She too was stuck.  Well, this bummed us out, as we now had two very cranky toddlers, two hot panting dogs, and two irritated mama's.  We turned around and instead headed to the old standby fields in our town.  Ah well. The dogs got a quick swim in the river, and the boys got to explore the field. Good times had by all.

This reminds me of an old man with a top hat and cane.