Wednesday, December 15, 2010


That's the actual current temperature. Minus eleven degrees. Eleven degrees below zero. I can't believe people live here. I can't believe I live here. It's just too cold to bear. Will my car start now that it has to park outside? I don't know. I filled it with gas and gave it a bottle of gas-line antifreeze yesterday so--maybe. At least it's too cold to snow, we have that to be thankful for.

I finished the fish bag for the baby gift yesterday and I made a bunch of lotion to give to friends for Christmas. I tried to pulverize a bunch of Bonairean sea salt into smaller bits to make some bath salts too with but it didn't pulverize much. I had to put it in a ziplock bag and whack it with a hammer. It got a little smaller but mostly it just tore holes in the bag. That's tough salt.

December 14--St. Ouen's Bay, Jersey. Claire loved to swim. It was a rare treat to have a sandy beach to swim from. Most of Great Britain's beaches were stony, hard on the feet, but the beaches here on Jersey were sand, soft sand that felt like powder beneath her feet. She had come to the island alone. She worked with a lot of other women and while she liked Nan and Julia, she didn't even mind having to listen to Sophie talk about Reg's troubles with his mum, but she needed a break. The guesthouse was nice and she enjoyed meals with the other guest but she declined their invitations to join them in touring around. She had put on her swimsuit and packed her towel and a novel, and walked down to the beach. It was late in the season so it wasn't crowded. She went right in and swam out until her red towel was just a speck. She struck off to swim u the beach as far as the headland. She enjoyed feeling her muscles stretch out and settled into the rhythm of her stroke. When she turned back she began to tire and felt like she wasn't making much headway. She stopped to rest for a moment and realized that she was still moving and even speeding up. She knew better than to fight but current but she regretted not telling Mrs. Miller where she was heading. She focused on the tiny red towel on the beach, took a deep breath, and ducked her head back into the chilly sea.

I see a fisherman picking her up, a handsome fisherman who scolds her for swimming where the currents are treacherous. I also wish I could go back to bed and not wake up until it's warm.

No comments: