Saturday, September 25, 2010

:: fires, strangers, and other stories ::

Let's see how much of this post I can write before I get ticked off and huck this thing across the room. I am typing this on an iPod touch screen. Last night, Ryan and I checked into a little b&b in the Washington coast tiny town of Pacific Beach. A teeny old house that was instantly warm and welcoming, ushering in two beat down and weary people. We haven't been here for 24 hours even, but the with the quiet, comfy worn couches, homemade lattes and omelettes by Paul (the host), the crashing ocean, and cozy fire, our tired souls have already been soothed and wrapped in warmth like a big cozy down comforter. We are being nursed back to health. A busier than normal summer that had us going in fifty different directions (which infrequently seemed to cross)has left us frazzled and fried. We needed this. I am desperate for normalcy. For connection with my husband that involves more than requests of help with dishes and diapers. A kiss here and there in hurried passing...sometimes days apart.

So here I sit. In a room with two other complete strangers who share the fire and reading light. And I just knit the worst hat I have ever knit, just to prove I can do it in less than an hour, only to find that I cannot finish it because I forgot my trusty old crochet hook. But I don't even care, I am so content here.