Blah,blah,blogs

Until recently, I was a militant anti-blogger. The concept of being a "blogger" just had no appeal. It had none of the panache or professionalism attached of being classified as a writer, journalist, free-lance artist, or op-ed columnist. I visualized a "blogger" as a poor soul in desperate need of a mouthpiece without any viable forum. Did I really want to read any more blah, blah, blogs?

One morning, considering this word, I looked into the mirror and repeated "blog, blog, blog." I had many comical thoughts. I looked like a person who was imminently about to be sick-yes regurgitate. I also had visions of myself opening my mouth to be swabbed for a throat culture. I also looked like someone who was on the verge of a half yawn. Or on a more positive note, I looked like a choir member in the middle of belting out "Allelulia!" Just look in the mirror, say the word "blog" and you'll see!

Despite the negative images and connotations I had associated with the word, to blog and be a blogger is fun. It lets us get in tune with our inner child. It unleashes a layer of creativity in all of us that just needs to be dusted off and rediscovered. We don't have to be prophetic, didactic, or even make that much sense.

Nesting in Narragansett

Nesting in Narragansett was never the plan-at least not my plan. I suspect my husband, a native of Wakefield, long ago had other ideas. Sure it was great to have a small beach house and summer here for two short months that passed in a blink. Sunny days composed of swimming in the ocean, playing tennis and golf, dining out, and many a party and ice cream cone. We closed up the house the day after Labor Day and never gave Narragansett a thought until next June. We were gone.

At least that's what I thought. One day my husband broached the idea of living in Narragansett year round. Surely he was jesting. It was just the average mid life crisis that descends upon a person out of nowhere when one almost demands a change. It wasn't. He was for real and before I knew it, I was living in Narragansett year round. Yikes!

The first winter down here was my version of Outward Bound. We had a small house with electric heat and everything I asked for that Christmas had the word "fleece" in it. Fleece pajamas, fleece bathrobe, fleece blankets. I think I was the one who had been fleeced. My daughter actually would spend nights on the computer doing her homework wearing gloves. I've sold many houses but none colder than this one!

It wasn't only cold; but I had landed in the social tundra of the state. Where were all the people? Who ever knew what happened to this place after Labor Day? During the summer, one is hard pressed to get a parking space along the seawall; but during the winter s t r e t c h, you can't even see a car near the seawall. Everything seemed to shut down and so did I.

It's taken about three years; but I'm coming around. I am learning to love and appreciate the beauty and simplicity of this coastal town. There are fewer choices to make and that has freed up a lot of my time and improved the quality of my life. I used to scour the malls; but my shopping habits have changed. It's now Marshalls or bust. I've made a lot of new friends. I have my dog walking buddies, my work colleagues, my yoga pals, and my "C'mon over for tea or wine" neighbors. And during the long winter months, we are each other's support team.

My husband and I were sitting out on our porch recently. We had taken our dog Daisy for a long walk on the beach in the morning and spent the remainder of the day outside doing yard work and planting bulbs. Looking out towards the sunset, he remarked, "This is God's country." I have to admit that maybe he's right.