We drove up a hill to watch the sunset, hoping that there would be a break in the rain and we would have one last moment of beauty. Instead, the weather doubled down. Wind blowing the trees around, big, wet drops of rain throwing themselves to earth. We took pictures through the windshield. We could see lightning in the distance and hear the thunder rolling through. I rolled down my window on the driver’s side just a quarter of an inch so we could hear, so we could be part of it. It was beautiful, with spots of blue sky in one direction and curtains of rain in the other. Then a massive jolt of roaring sound and light hit us. Louder than I could have imagined. A sound that could flatten earth. The last sound prey hears, before it’s will is taken from it. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Fear or joy? Threat or gift? While we were saying “oh my god” and “wow” and trying to remember how to breathe, the car closest to us quietly left the exposed hillside we were sharing. Great vacation.

I’m in the kitchen toasting whole grain bread and frying up a couple of organic, kosher franks. Delicious sauerkraut waiting on a speckled blue plate. As the franks heat up, the kitchen grows fragrant and then fills with a small sound like tiny people screaming as their Ferris wheel spins out of control. “Aiiiiieee!” and “Eeeeek!” come from the stove. I recall Horton and his principled kindness to the least among us. What would Horton do? And Christopher Boffoli’s photojournalism of people helping each other in dangerous food situations, like Cereal Rescue and Blackberry C.S.I. I pull the franks off the heat; I can’t take the tiny shrieks. I collect my toast and franks and turn back to the counter where the rest of my lunch awaits. This tiny world will not be saved. I open a jar and know that I will eat my franks with relish. (Chortle.) Sweet pickle relish. And mustard.

Thanks for joining me!

WordPress wanted to help me get started with a first blog entry title, “The Journey Begins”. I would have liked to format this so that it said “The Journey Jaunt Begins” but the header format doesn’t accept strikethrough font. Delighted to see that strikethrough works on the sub-header though!

There’s no journey going on here unless you are carrying your personal technology around with you somewhere while reading. And I don’t even expect that you or anyone else will even find this blog. We’ll see whether I tell any friends about it. I know better writers than me who have admitted to having a blog but haven’t gone so far as to tell me how to find it. A friend suggested that I put my stories in a blog, and I thought it might be interesting to see if a story told could be turned into a story written down. I’ve got some time. But I’m not sure I know how to do it. This effort may just reinforce my belief that Tina Fey and David Sedaris probably do not hear often enough how clever and magical their work is. I don’t even care that I ended that sentence with “is”.

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton

Also not my quote and not my photo. Both provided by WordPress. I am my own good company but it remains to be seen whether my entertainment is yours as well. My only camera these days is my cell phone and I don’t tread water while taking pictures with it right before it gets too dark to see the shore.

This inspiring picture reminds me: I did some beginner sailing one year as helper to a more experienced sailor. Our first trip out of the harbor was most unfortunately during a small craft advisory. We spent about 2 hours out and nearly all of that time was simply trying to safely get back behind the breakwater as the wind howled. Which might cause you to question the “more experienced sailor” statement, but that is not my point. My point is that I was incredibly brave, waiting until we were back behind the breakwater to sob in hysterical exhaustion. That is also not really my point. Our second venture was everything one hopes for. Out on the water, boat shifting in the sun with tides and winds, running nicely under mainsail and jib, cityscape receding, rich and clean ocean smells, beautiful silvered colors everywhere. We tacked near a rocky point and as we fell into the windshadow of the cliff some beguiling smell joined with the brine. “Is that earth?” I thought, in the same way a dog thinks “Bacon???” Such a yearning to be on that shore, my home. Sad that all that beauty was partially wasted on me.