Cold and foggy here today, Friday. It had been sunny and warm for the Oregon Coast, about 75. Just a nice warm fall day in Nebraska, but unseasonably warm on the coast.
I moved here on Monday. Here is the beach house in Lincoln City belonging to my friends Susan and Fred. I'm settling in. I now have a post office box and a library card. I had to provide my Nebraska driver's license, vehicle registration and insurance card and do some fast talking to get my PO box. The postal worker was very suspicious of me and I'm not sure he got over the suspicion. At the library, the solution was for me to pay $12.50 for three months of library privileges. Staff much less suspicious at the library. When I mentioned how much I had worked in libraries, the volunteer came running. We agreed to let me settle in first.
I've been going around finding local pubs, coffee places and eateries. Been going to places with wifi, but now I've got one of those plug in things and my own wifi anytime. But I was advised to go to the coffee place or library if I want to download something large or watch a streaming video. But now I can stay home and blog or Facebook or Tweet or e-mail and should be able to stay well within my allowance of 5GB per month. I can also pay my bills or order from Amazon online without worrying about my information being broadcast all over Oregon.
I figured out that this bed in the house is the 13th bed I have slept in since we stored my bed in Kearney, but only if you count my floor in Kearney, too. Still, that is a lot of beds. It has been nice of all my friends and family to take me in, but there is something wonderful about having my own space at last.
Wednesday morning was my first morning here that I woke up after going to the store. So I celebrated with breakfast at home: two fried eggs on toast and yogurt. Took it all out to the yard to enjoy. The house is above the beach so I didn't think anything when I seagull glided by at eye level. I wondered idly if he could catch a piece of bread in his mouth, dismissing the idea out of hand because I do know enough not to encourage the sea gulls.
I don't know if seagulls can read minds, if they know how people look when they eat or if they are blessed with a remarkable sense of smell but one of those has to be true. In a moment he was joined by two friends or relations coming closer and closer and screaming at the top of their lungs.
I beat a hasty retreat to the house. The picture of Tippi Hedren in the phone booth as in my head, but my real fear was seagull poop in my eggs. I eat my breakfast inside and at peace now. I notice they don't bother me when I am reading or talking on the phone or just sitting outside.
The ocean is a new experience for this girl from Nebraska. I know that I lived in the Bay Area for four years, but how often did I get to the beach? Not that often. Even when I lived a half mile from Ocean Beach in San Francisco I didn't get there that often. Usually, just on nice days. I've stayed on the coast before, I've stayed on this coast, but living here is something different.
Living right smack on the ocean is new. Is the tide going out or coming in? Fortunately,they print the tide tables in the paper and online. It amazes how the surf can go from light to heavy in the course of just a few minutes, just long enough to change the laundry today. I expect that constant roar to be wind. I look out the window, everything is still except the sea. Still much to learn.
I have been sending out self referrals for new calls. I have appointments for therapy next week, both physical and the other kind. Am working on getting on the Cascades Presbytery Pulpit Supply List. They have to check me out first and make sure I am decent and in order. That is how it should be.
Brother Bill's best friend since grade school, Mike C is coming out for a visit on Sunday. I'll be glad to see him, he's one of a handful of people who has a good claim to being the Fifth Harvey Kid.
A last word from an infinitely better writer:
By that long scan of waves, myself call'd back, resumed upon myself,
In every crest some undulating light or shade--some retrospect,
Joys, travels, studies, silent panoramas--scenes ephemeral,
The long past war, the battles, hospital sights, the wounded and the dead,
Myself through every by-gone phase--my idle youth--old age at hand,
My three-score years of life summ'd up, and more, and past,
By any grand ideal tried, intentionless, the whole a nothing,
And haply yet some drop within God's scheme's ensemble--some
wave, or part of wave,
Like one of yours, ye multitudinous ocean.
Walt Whitman
blessings to us all, wave or part of wave
Cindy
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