Moving Pieces Gonna Move

It was pouring rain as we packed up the three cars this morning. Each of them had a different destination: Treat and Josh were off to camp and hike Katahdin tomorrow; Victor, Emily, Nadika, and Rosie were driving Emily Primes RAV 4 first to Mahwah, NJ and then home to Arlington. Bill and Emily were riding in the mini-van to a hotel in Bar Harbor for a couple days; Courtney and Annabelle were mini-van passengers as well, bound for Bangor to stay over for an early flight tomorrow, and Heidi and I were taking the mini-van to our friend Ruth's, once everyone else was in place. 

So many moving pieces made organizing and packing even more complicated than the regular whirlwind of vacating a week-long rental. In addition to cleaning and stripping and packing and pitching, we also divided our things into what we needed over the next two days and what we could do without, and then found room for them in the car we were in or a car that had extra space, trusting that we would be reunited with all of our possessions at the end of the trip.

It was a fitting way to end a vacation with so many hiccups, and when Treat texted this evening that he was pretty sure he had left his guitar by the door in the rental house, I couldn't be surprised. I dialed the after-hours number of the agency, expecting to get the same recording I got last Saturday when we were locked out on our arrival, but a pleasant voice answered the call. When I explained the situation, she paused. 

"Um, the tenants have had a rather rough check in," she reported. "I don't think it's a good idea to bother them tonight to pick up a forgotten item. They have had a really long day."

I thought back over the last 12 hours, and then the last seven days. "I can certainly understand that," I told her, and we agreed to touch base again tomorrow.

60-30-15

Mine is not the only big birthday in our family this year. Victor is turning thirty in 2 weeks, and to complete the series, Annabelle will be 15 in December. 

Since he is heading back to Iceland before his birthday, today we celebrated Victor with a seafood feast down in Southwest Harbor, and some blueberry pie and flourless chocolate cake for dessert with candles and presents. A few logs in the fire pit and some sparklers completed the festivities. 

It was a perfect end to an incredible week.

Mixty No More

For months I had a daily reminder on all my devices to Plan the big 6-0. I set it back when I was trying to find a rental place up here in Maine big enough to accommodate our group, and then I left it, because the agency I ended up doing business with had several deadlines and lots of paperwork to keep track of, and I wanted to make sure they were all on my daily screen. 

Oh, I canceled the reminder once everything was all set, but it's a little hard to believe that the day is actually here. This morning we tried to find a phrase to capture the birthday, something along the lines of fifty is nifty, but not much rhymes with sixty. Victor proposed "betwixty" and I'm still thinking about that one, and what I might be betwixt. Privately, I considered "My feelings are mixty about turning sixty," but it seemed a little too true.

And I needn't have worried about planning; the day was perfect: blueberry pancakes with peaches for breakfast, yoga and meditation with Courtney, Emily, and Josh, a hike up Gorham Mountain with 10 of our 11, picking blueberries along the granite ledges on the way up, and lunch at the summit overlooking the ocean on one side and over to Cadillac Mountain on the other, a brief stop at home, and then a mini-golf 5 on 5 team challenge complete with a school yard pick. 

Even though my team lost by just a little over 1 stroke each, we had a great time, and I danced to One Step Forward all through the 17th and 18th holes, never mind that group of dudes breathing down our necks in the back nine. And now? I get to relax and wait for my lobster and steak and lemon-glazed birthday cake.

Now that's what I call a plan!

A Win Is a Win

Originally created to keep a crew of energetic, competitive boys engaged on relatively tame walks along the rocky beaches, the Smoothest Rock Contest is one of our Maine traditions. The concept is simple: as contestants explore the incredibly scenic cobble stone beaches, they sort through the kazillions of beautiful granite stones tumbled round and smooth by the North Atlantic to find the smoothest one of them all. It is a ritual we have repeated with Riley, Treat, and Josh on each of our visits for the last 16 years.

Sometimes the judging is honor system, sometimes it involves voting for the smoothest rock not your own, and sometimes there is an impartial judge. That's how we did it today down at the beach at the bottom of the Wonderland Trail, even though 2 of the 3 original boys, now grown to men, were off hiking on another part of the island.

A cool breeze blew off the ocean under bright blue skies as Heidi, Courtney, Emily, Victor, Emily, and I all dropped our entries into a hat for Bill to judge blindly. Taking his time to run his fingers carefully over each of our submissions, he considered them rock, by silky smooth rock. At last he had it narrowed down to two, one traditionally flat and oval, and the other a prism-shaped piece of fine-grain, speckled black granite with a little dimple that perfectly fit my thumb.

"The winner is..." he announced, "this one!" And he held out my black triangle.

Silly as it was? I felt a bit of a thrill-- I've never won the contest before. After a little cheer and a friendly postmortem comparison of smooth rocks, we headed home where I could not wait to report my victory to Josh and Treat.

"It's only because I wasn't there," Josh joshed.

"Maybe so," I shrugged. "Too bad for you."

Crunching the Numbers

It's a blessing to have eleven family members all in one house on vacation, but coordinating logistics, such as where to go and when to leave, what to eat and whose to cook, can be challenging, especially with a group who range so widely in age. Statistically it might seem overwhelming, but I think we're doing just fine.

 

Just dig a little deeper into the data. The median? That's Emily 2, and the mode is Treat and Josh, both the same age. The smallest is Annabelle, and the largest is me. Sure, there are 46 years that separate our ages, but in between there is Emily, Bill, Courtney, Heidi, Emily, Victor, Treat, Josh, and Nadika, and a whole lot of love and mutual respect. 

And that's no mean thing.

Come Again Another Day

The rain arrived on schedule this afternoon, although Courtney and Annabelle did not. Their flight was delayed a second time, pushing their arrival to a full 24 hours late. Coincidentally? Victor and Emily will be on the same plane with them tonight into Bangor from Boston. 

Knock on wood.

That Maine Thing

We tossed around several hiking possibilities this morning before settling on our plan for the day: it had to be Acadia Mountain. Just a few minutes from our rental house, the hike features a steady and challenging climb through a balsam forest up to granite ledges punctuated by shrubby blueberry, juniper, and huckleberry, and opening up to amazing views of Echo Lake, Somes Sound, and all the little Islands in the Atlantic Ocean beyond. It's everything I love about hiking in Maine, and today our hike was quintessentially so: warm sun, cool sea breeze, photos at the summit, and lunch on the ledges overlooking the sound just below. When we spotted two bald eagles soaring a couple hundred feet away, I knew it doesn't get much better than that.