The King Tide Abides

Lionel Richie’s vinyl spins and spills sensually into the air. It’s too good, I think, swaying softly while allowing him to make love to my ears. My mind knows that with this way of his, he had to turn a few racists straight.

It’s the kind of day I fantasize is a writer’s life; A roaring fire without a care in mind while pajama bottomed and slippered in a cabin amongst the evergreens. That’s me today.

I did two full push-ups just now, a little check-in on my twenty push-up resolution by year-end. I feel embarrassed at my weeny chest muscles, and now that I think of it, I always have. Did you also have a rope in gym class? Oh, how insanely jealous I was when Jason Vought slithered his gangly body up that thick splintery mess. Or how about that human-sized peg board where you placed extra large wooden salt and pepper shakers in holes to propel yourself up to a bell or flag.

I won every PE sit-up challenge and got an “abs of steel” comment from the midwives when pregnant, but my upper body and chest need work. I’ll get there, even if it takes all year.

The too-high tide almost took my daughter out with it. Not realizing the foamy blast’s veracity when her wonderfully doting father failed to act, I did. Maybe I swore before taking three leaps, scooping her up like I was a high-end kidnapper, then pivoting, propelled my body forward, out of the mushy oatmeal sand to outrun the sneaker of a wave.

It was all squeals and fun until it wasn’t. The sideways rain stung, and the treasures we’d hoped for from the 11.81-foot high tide were for not. A smattering of plastic bottle caps and a broken shower head made for dud finds. A redo scavenger hunt may be in the works for tomorrow morning.

Oh, we ate those four duck eggs this morning in one mammoth broccoli, onion, cheddar, and bacon omelet. The shell, less cracky than a store-bought chicken egg, had a give to it, like a rubber ball. Although ours were okay, for future reference, eggs that float in water are rotten.

Well, I better watch our first-place Kraken play hockey; splitting my attention between the two needs to be fixed.

Hasta la vista baby. Love, Jaclynn

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