what we do for love

the honeymoon phase. you can’t stop us.

bath time

ok. update. i'm not sure what is indeed charming about owning a sailboat in maine in the winter. let’s be real, having a boat attached to your deck is something like the coolest fort ever and the biggest metaphorical poke in the side every time you glance out the window. feed me, your time your love and all your money.

but we wanted to. right.

it was mild that december day we gave gracie a bath. say in the 40’s and pouring rain and as you can (or can’t) see, dark, so we set up the spotlights. i see now the Edison bulbs upstairs give the photo a gentle, festive air. aha. nope. and the power washer, so loud. and the smell, think abandoned fish market. and the mud.

this was perhaps still the honeymoon phase.

and then we pulled her diesel engine off. yep. best night of the honeymoon.

but it was, ok maybe not the best night, but we were determined. you can in fact walk right from our deck onto gracie (super rad); you can’t see her in her full glory because we built her a house. yes her very own house. i’m pretty sure mother nature has been trying to rip it down since we finished it on a frigid january day around 9pm. no ma’am. you can’t stop us.

but. we do love our boat. her bathing needs, her no engine, her house, and perhaps most of all,

her potential.

admittedly we haven’t been working on her as much lately. cold will ruin any honeymoon. then again, sometimes you just need a little sunshine, and our electric propulsion system arrived on monday! that’s right,

gracie’s going solar

so yea, for real. . . it’s expensive, time consuming and often overwhelming. but it’s also what we do for love. with determination, grace, goodwill and compassion. what we do is our future. our potential. . . our evolution, if just one part.

and maybe one dream, one boat, won’t make a difference. but i love this fragile life, this fragile earth, and

. our house is still standing .

change

the . new . girl

revolution . evolution

get . drunk . bear . down

the miracle dog

love. determination and the fight to save bean. poetry in progress

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the quiet life

me and bean. cape cod. sept. 2012. 

his broad freckled chest now has a gnarly scar 

where he was stitched back together 

twice after the porcupine when

they cut his sternum bone in half 

again to remove the right front lung

lobe after they found

twenty-four quills in his heart

three in his lungs, forty

removed the first time

they performed open heart open 

lung surgery and he still 

didn’t heal nine days later

we brought him home in

critical condition after two 

nights of opioid torture in

the hospital parking lot we slept 

at a campground until he was stable

enough to make it home

where he could not be left

alone and his medication 

schedule was a short story

and his stitches became infected

the laundry constantly going to

rotate his t-shirt supply 

to keep him clean and his harness 

dry his sister constantly

by his side and

he healed as we 

fought against odds not in our favor to

keep him alive

after thousands of quills were 

pulled from his body they nicknamed

him the miracle dog

where we went for five weeks 

for check-ups and eventually it

was summertime

and he slept on the deck

sprawled on the couch his 

heart beating his lungs inflating

with salty air where he

swam and napped under 

the apple trees

where life re-formed

every breath no longer a fight 

but a reminder of

the value of the beat

the sigh and the light.

getdrunkbeardown

hugyourdog

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may 12, 2017      recovery

in search of

golden ferns. nova. van life. displacement. insomnia and the unknown.

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in search of

we don't always find what we're looking for. we don't always know what it is. . . 

i finally left nyc. spring 2016. no set destination. just out of nyc really. everything we needed in nova. navy just 5 months and of course big bean.

we spent the summer in nova by the ocean in downeast maine. we're still up here. a little apartment above a work shop. 

do i miss the city? yes. do i miss my old life? absolutely. would i go back? i don't know where exactly, to go. or why i always want to go. 

not into commitments or small towns. i find myself in a tiny place reliant on my new job. some days i don't know how i ended up here. others it seems like the perfect place to get back on my feet. and then what? i find a place. a beautiful place with heart and soul and comes my innate desire to run away. i search to fill the empty corners. to find the comfort i had in the past. something about routine makes it feel unattainable. not enough unknown. so I want to move. again. and again. and again. maybe it's waiting around the next corner. the unfamiliar corner. because here. right here. in this little place with big hearts. i think i won't find it. 

get drunk. bear down.

and do the nova dance.

keep searching

inside out. maine

self. reflection. family. nova. 15 days in maine

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you're not dressed up.

yea i am. as a lumberjack. 

what are you for halloween.

i'm a maina.

                         he laughed. 

it's cold now in the northeast. the above photo is from early september when we spent 15 days in maine. i read an article in downeast magazine about a quiet place with plenty of sandy beaches. indeed. sandy, quiet and breathtaking. and no, i won't tell you where. you'll have to go exploring.

the person behind the lens managed to capture me inside out in this snapshot. borderline complete.

there's something about maine. the sea. the pines. the water. the salt. the pace. 

as the seasons turn and fall settles in i have a tendency to reminisce a little more and sleep a little less. insomnia - my imagination's most beloved and despised companion.

i don't like large groups of people and neither does bean. he liked it here if you can't tell. we camped about 5 miles south and returned a day later before heading north.

the locals came swimming with swim caps in the evening light. others wandered through the tall pines to the coves edge with bottles of beer. one old woman came down in a wheelchair and her friends helped her into the ocean for swim-therapy. we sat with our dogs on the warm rocks drip-drying in the evening sun.

maine.

has a funny way

of invading my soul.

home away from home.

check back for snapshots of this secret spot in another couple days

getdrunkbeardownandexplore

one left

drive north to drive south. the only cribstone bridge left in the world. suck it in nova. road narrows. 15 days in maine.

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after dry camping in portland for a few days, we were determined to one, check out this rare bridge and two, find cedar beach - one of maine’s limited sandy beaches located on bailey island.

well.

some rich folk bought up the land that borders the drive to cedar beach so that was off limits. 

greed  

one of the seven deadly sins.

in jersey they call them free beaches

in long island the feds bought it all up

we’ve been kicked off them all.

preserve to destroy

got it all wrong

you cant buy the ocean.

well. 

with dumb luck we saw the bridge at low tide hence impressive exposure. we explored the southern tip of bailey island to find a small cove of sandy beach. 

finally.

no parking lines. no signs. no meters. no cement. no bathhouse. no “hours.” no open. no close. sand. water. stone and ice cream on the way back. no leash laws. no cops. no shops. salt. sea and a dirt lot. 

vacationland.

the statue is a tribute to fisherman lost at sea. photos collected in snapshots. the ice cream is great and so are the mermaids.

much luck to the residents of bailey island.

getdrunkbeardownandsavepublicbeaches