november sunset

over my shoulder the cold of autumn
creeps in with clouds
covering chill, clinging
smokey skies at dusk.

fingerholes of sunset peer
through the thickness,
turning leaves burnt rust;
crimson crashing gold and ochre
tumbling from limbs onto
damp,dewy dying grasses.

sun settles herself
beyond the horizon.
clouds catching ever deeper
shades of slate and ash,
blending blues and blushing pinks.
speckled spatter-drops
trickle swiftly from the sky
and usher in the quiet nightfall.

pods

We’d lived near the water for some time when the children were struck with the idea to take a boat out of the harbor, and make a day trip of seeing what there was to see. We’d been to the Aquarium many times; in fact one of our sons maintained that going there for his every birthday was the best present ever – since he was two years old.

We looked up some information and found a relatively inexpensive day trip. It was a new kind of trip though. It was a program run by a local University. The Engineering students created not boats, but “pods,” while the Computer Science techs wrote code and programmed them to follow a specific route. The Marine Biology students mapped out that route and recorded information relevant to life, both plant and animal, that was likely to be seen along the way. Then they let the Marketing students do their work.

We arrived at the University’s “Jump Point,” they called it. We took public transportation in through the downtown area, like we always did. We stood in line and presented our online booking voucher, together with our Aquarium membership card for a deeper discount. As we waited for our pod with other groups of excited people on the covered docks, my nose twitched. It was brief, but I told my husband I would be right back. I stepped out of the shelter into the warm late summer sunshine, faced west, closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I could still smell it. My eyes popped open and I spun around narrowing my eyes, searching the horizon for the source of the smell that hit me like a brick in the hazy, summer heat. My husband gestured at me from our place in line to hurry back. I smelled thunderstorms. Not just regular ones, the storms that turned the skies green. My eyes searched to the skies for any sign of disturbance found a calm sea, bright blue arching up from the grey and dusty blue that stretched before me. My nose was raised in the Midwest, with the rest of me. I knew that smell. Nine times out of ten, I had the windows latched, all the furniture and toys in the back yard stowed, and the kids in the basement before the weather people here cottoned on to the danger and issued a watch. I knew; I don’t know how, I just did.

We discovered that we would have to be broken up into two smaller groups to more evenly distribute the weight of the six of us. I did not like the idea of being sealed into some kind of pod for hours all by myself – with the boys. Or the girls. The students assured me it was safe, taking our family out of line to show us a board of safety features, obviously created to soothe the fears of raging hydrophobes like myself. Daddy took the girls and I took the boys.

The interior of the pod was small, about six feet in diameter, and smelled of new rubber and salt water. The windows went all the way around except in two places; one about a foot wide which was the obvious anchor point for the sealed glass and the other was the curved submarine-like door which hissed as it sealed itself shut. The seats reminded me of classic diner booths; the boys could easily move about the pod and see in virtually any direction at once. I took note of the first aid kit, packets of small paper bags just the right size for puking into, and a tightly sealed bucket bolted to the floor in the center of the little round room. Upon lifting the lid, it became abundantly clear that the thoroughly scrubbed bucket was for the used paper bags.

We lurched sideways – forward –whatever. Five minutes out from the land, I could see the skies to the south of us were churning black. Something didn’t look right in those skies, although I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I tried to calm my gnawing stomach by chewing a hole through my left cheek. The boys were still jumping from seat to seat, literally crawling around me in their excitement. The calm voice of the narrator droned on about sea life under the water before maddeningly explaining that we were preparing to dive. Just then the little pod sloshed to a halt and paused. The recording stopped. I held my breath, as if I would have to hold it the whole time we were underwater. It waited a breath longer than I could, then lurched forward again, turning exactly 180 degrees. Back towards the coast.

At first I thought there was a malfunction. Or maybe we didn’t pay for the whole cruise, but I saw all the little black pods shuffling back to the shore all at once. A woman’s voice came over the sound system, not nearly as calm as the recording blathering about sea kelp. “Everyone has been ordered ashore by the Transportation Authority. Stay calm and do not attempt to leave the craft for any reason.” Leave the craft….why? And as I thought those words, as I spoke them aloud at the very instant I thought them, as my head turned south while the words tumbled from my lips, I already knew the answer. Waterspouts. Tornadoes on the water. Oh. My. God. That is what had looked different from so very, very far away. The rain was not just coming down. It was also going up.

I crushed the rising panic hard into my stomach; packed it into some kind of box and locked it down so I could deal with my sons. My younger one, the marine enthusiast, was starting to realize we weren’t going to dive anytime soon, and had already begun his protests. I told them there was a storm and we had to go back to be safe. My older son must have seen through my locked box, seen the panic in my eyes, because he looked directly south and asked in a very small voice if it was a bad storm like from when I was little. I could not answer him. I did not know how bad it would be and I could not lie to him. I scanned the little room once again and discovered a cubby in the seats for life jackets. Just four. That’s why we had to split up into two groups. I prayed my husband wasn’t just sitting there looking out the window and was fastening the girls into the lifejackets as well. I clutched my boys to me and we watched the skies tumble in.

The pod stopped moving at some point, but the water was so choppy we hadn’t noticed exactly when. Three little paper bags had already made their way into the little sealed bucket on the floor and my stomach was contemplating a fourth. I then noticed that we were the only pod left that I could see. That did it. I pressed the panic button – well it was labeled “For Life Emergency Only – Coast Guard.” A red light flashed above our heads on the top of the pod’s exterior, but we could see it reflected off the water and the raindrops trickling down the windows. We waited some more. I wondered where my husband and the girls were. My little son started crying. I closed my eyes on my own tears and cuddled him as close as I could around the bulk of the life jackets. I left my other arm around my other son, who had lain down with his head on my lap. We stared out at sea and waited.

The wind was picking up and I could clearly see two waterspouts to our south. One was far out to sea, but the other was massive and near the coastline. I could see that it was still some distance away, but not knowing the wind speed, nor how far down the coast it actually was, that distance was no comfort to me. The waves around us had little foamy caps on them. I was watching the little crests and humming softly to the boys when we were bumped. I craned my neck and the boys jumped up. There was a tug pushing us to shore. The relief spread from my crown all the way to my feet in one hot instant, and I felt very faint. I slumped down on the floor shoved my head between my knees and breathed. My frightened sons copied my movements, thinking that was what we were supposed to do. I supposed it saved them from thunking their heads against the glass with every nudge from the rescue tug. My stomach emptied once again and the boys made fun of me; at least they were back to normal.

The sight of the Jump Point as our pod turned in sight of land again was the sweetest conglomeration of molded metal, painted steel and spotlights I had ever seen. Bar none. They had trouble opening the seal on the hatch because of the increase in pressure caused by the storm. I screamed into the cracks to stand back – I would kick this door down if I lost both legs doing it. And kick I did. The boys jumped and cheered as I bustled them out of the pod, throwing our life jackets into the arms of the nearest person wearing a University Sweatshirt. A quick scan of the small number of people on the dock showed no other members of my family. Water sprayed into the covered dock from the open sea. The rush of the wind and water was so loud no one could even attempt to tell me where my family had gone, if they had been able to hear me ask. We all struggled against the wind, holding tight to the rails, down the metal stairs into a building. I glanced back over my shoulder some 50 yards to where we’d just been standing and watched our pod get flipped up and out to sea again as if it were merely a loose bottle cap on the side of a busy road. The rescue tug tipped onto its side and the edges of my world bled black, my last fleeting thought for the safety of my girls as well, as the Coastie behind me caught me and rushed the rest of us inside.

**********

and that is when i woke up. i couldn’t breathe. i put my head between my knees and inhaled until my lungs could hold no more. i exhaled slowly and picked at a thread from the bedsheet. the moonlight cast a mournful glow upon the trees outside my window. i stood slowly and made my way to the childrens’ rooms. i sat on each of their beds with them, kissing and holding hands, not waking them. and trying so very hard not to cry.

so no. i can’t go on a cruise yet. i still haven’t gotten over my fear of the water. i still can’t stand the thought of being too far from the land to “make it back” – even without the terror of the uncommon waterspouts. i just can’t.

half-gone

my shift was half gone when i realized that the sun had come up, i hadn't had a break, and i was suddenly starving. good thing i was tapped to go on break just then. and this is just pre-thanksgiving. next week should be REAL fun.

the day was half gone when i woke up from my nap at noon today, ready to get started on everything i have on the calendar for today, after work, that is.

my cold is half gone. well, prolly more than half gone; i'm just feeling tired and headache-y.

my brain cells are half gone because my dear darling dickhead of a husband thinks he's sick too and has decided to bury himself in bed, blaring dream theater's new album from his laptop for hours on end. it was blasting when i arrived home at 11, it was still going when i woke up from my nap at noon, and i imagine it never shut up the whole 2 hours i was at the cookie booth sale. it's still going. i've even shut the office door. i think he just turned it up. call me old, whatever, i listen to my music loud too, just not ALL THE DAMN TIME!!!! moderation is the key.

my patience is half gone, with trying to run a household in a fog half the week, not getting any help from dh or the kids, and the dog begging to be walked 24/7. ok, maybe not that much; maybe 14/7. she doesn't even move at 3:00 when i'm leaving for work. i'm trying to make things work, i just feel run-down and tired all the time and i wish i had a second or third pair of hands sometimes. like now. i need to walk the dog and make dinner, but i'm still freezing from being outside all afternoon and all i wanna do is join everyone else under blankies and veg.

*sigh*

off to make dinner. i guess the dog will wait until dishes are done.

with the onset of the major travel season spiraling towards us, i feel the need to blog about the top things i say daily in my job:

1) are you aware of the restriction on liquids, creams, and gels in carryon luggage aboard the aircraft? if you can pour it, dribble it, squeeze it, smear it, squirt it, gargle it, spray it, or gloop it, it is a restricted item. even if you purchase a bottle of water or juice in the airport, if you are on the outside of the checkpoint with said bottle, it goes in the trash. you can carry containers labeled up to 3.4 fluid ounces, so long as they can ALL fit into a quart size clear plastic zipper bag. we do not provide clear plastic zipper bags at the security checkpoint. they cost about $1.50 for a box of 50. make the investment before arriving at the airport. key word: LABELED. if the toothpaste tube says 8 fluid ounces and there's only 4 squirts of toothpaste left in the tube, it still can't go. period. if it's a 12 oz spray can of olive oil, it can't go. even if it's the uber-expensive proactiv -- facial care products, if the container states more than 3.4 fl oz, it's not getting on my planes. check it under the plane or prepare to toss it out.

2) please take all large electronic items such as CPAP machines, laptops, dvd players, and video game consoles out of their bags – completely out – and put them into a bin on their own. "on their own" means nothing on top, nothing underneath. if you place these items inside a bag or place items on top of them, they will have to be removed from the x-ray machine and re-run, causing a delay for all passengers, not just you.

3) please keep your boarding pass in your hand. your left hand, your right hand, both hands; doesn't really make a difference to me. don't put it in your mouth, please. that's just nasty. i must view your boarding pass before you can enter the secure area of the airport. if you leave it in your coat pocket or bag, someone has to stop the flow of customer traffic and hunt it down for you. keep it on your person.

4) please remove all metal objects from your body before walking through the metal detector. unless your cell phone is made of wood, it is a metal object and it will alarm the metal detector. if your belt buckle is the size of a dinner plate, yes, it will set off the metal detector. some underwire bras, coupled with closed loop bracelets or heavy earrings, will pack enough of a punch to require additional screening after setting off the alarm on the metal detector. my advice? let the boobs sag and pack the jewelry. it's a plane ride, not a fashion show.

5) if you have bags that can zip, buckle, snap, tie, velcro or somehow close themselves, please do not use a bin for these items. likewise, if your bag is so large that it doesn't actually fit into a bin, don't use one. these bags can be placed directly on the conveyor belt, flat on their sides.

6) all outerwear, heavy jackets, sweaters and hoodies must be placed through the x-ray machine. yes, even the babies' favorite stuffed animals and blankies. all footwear must be removed and x-rayed. footwear includes boots, running shoes, slides, mules, slippers, sandals and flip-flops. the conveyor belt is actually much cleaner than the floor - the one you're walking barefooted on because you decided against wearing socks in public for some ungodly reason. people got some smelly feet and you're walking barefoot through all that foot-funk. i suggest slip-on shoes or clogs and socks or those little medical footies.

7) do not attempt to put your child or pet into the x-ray machine because you don't want to "bother them" by removing them from their carseat or carrier. no exceptions. wake them up or book a later flight.

8) do not get special custom wrapping on gifts, hand carry them onto a plane, and then fuss at security when it must be unwrapped and viewed. we unwrap the prezzies as if they were for us. *rip rip tear!* we get so little joy. security is in no way responsible for reimbursing wrapping fees or re-wrapping prezzies at all. if it looks ugly on the x-ray, it will be opened. it doesn't matter what you say is in the box. it will be visually inspected.

9) for heaven's sake, pack light. you don't need a kitchen sink in your carryon. or a fan. or a wii. check it under the plane or ship it via commercial carrier to your final destination. if you think it will take too long to ship, you can most likely live without it for the duration of your trip. most, if not all delays at the security checkpoint can be avoided if you just pack what you will physically NEED on the plane.

these and many more travel tips are available at TSA's website or by looking up your departing and arriving airports for specific local information. this public service announcement has been brought to you by your friendly, neighborhood katerooni, the *fnc.

*i've been dubbed the fucking new chick.