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Monday, October 12, 2015

(Pics) - Marooned on Block Island, RI

Alternate title: I Survived the Ferry, Bitches!

When the swells were reported to be about 8 feet. And one of the ferry workers told me that the ride was indeed about a "7" on a scale of 1-10.

And then it took me six days to get back on that beast.

The Bean and I took what was planned to be a 4-day trip back east, to Block Island, Rhode Island, to visit my brother and his wife. I checked the weather ahead of time - by check I mean I looked at the icons on the iPhone app - and anticipated that we wouldn't be doing much hanging out at the beach in bikinis. What I didn't do was anticipate that there might be actual bad weather, as in, I'd-rather-die-than-ride-the-ferry bad weather. Or the threat of a hurricane. Nah, none of this occurred to me.

We nailed our red-eye, although I felt a little hungover from the Ativan that travel necessitates. It was rainy when we arrived in Providence the next morning. But I didn't think much of it when I struggled to get the carseat in the taxi all by myself. (Block Island is accessible planes-trains-and-automobile style; it requires at least two flights, a cab ride, and a ferry ride to get to the island). Both the Bean and I passed out during the hour-long taxi ride, and when I awoke, just minutes before the 11 a.m. ferry was set to leave the dock, it was raining sideways and the seas looked like something out of Castaway or The Perfect Storm or some other awful boat/water movie I've never actually seen. We hunkered down in the lobby of a shitty little motel across the street from the ferry dock for several hours, awaiting the fate of the 3 p.m. ferry. I wasn't sure I was going to make it on that boat, and with closer examination of the weather, this would likely be our last chance. Uncle B, inspired by my anxiety and avoidance and the possibility that we would cross thousands of miles to only be separated by a dozen at sea, ferried himself from BI to the mainland to rescue us. And the Bean couldn't have been more delighted to be surprised by his appearance. I sucked it up and we all loaded the 3 o clock, and I meditated/slept/prayed for the entire one hour and fifteen minute ride from hell. When I got off the boat I ran to land. Literally. And I vowed not to get back on that bitch until the ocean was glassy, even if it took until next summer. Turns out Hurricane Joaquin had the same idea, and the ferries stopped running for several days, extending our stay. Who else can call into work and say they can't make it Monday or Tuesday and to cancel their full patient schedule because they've been marooned on a remote island?

I did more of certain activities in this concentrated period of time than I have cumulatively:
- posted to social media
- rolled dice with lobsters on them 
- thought about ways to gauge my eyes out
- let my child watch TV. Hours of TV. Disney Junior. Nickelodeon. Calliou. Daniel Tiger.
- sat/reclined on the couch without being sick or pregnant 
- eaten dinner at a fine dining restaurant

- checked the maritime reports
- painted with nice paints and nice paper
- let my child take selfies upon selfies with my iPhone

It was SO GOOD to see the Bean love on her Uncle B and Aunt Zahavah. And we will look forward to their NW visit next month.

Our week on Block Island in pictures ...

Team Red prevails. F got a new big kid suitcase for our trip.

PJ's at PDX for the red-eye.

Girlfriend got to visit the cockpit! She still wants to be an astronaut, not a pilot.

Uncle B to the rescue. I don't even look as shitty as I feel.

#selfie

That shit was BLUSTERY.

Her drawing has progressed from faces to people.

Like I said, windy.

And island drive to the North Lighthouse.

I love this girl.

Her favorite at the animal farm were the "toddler" emus.

Z, J, F, and B.

Different day, same island. Drive to the Bluffs with SE Lighthouse in the back. Uncle B, Aunt Z, and the Bean.

Brother.

My heart felt so full seeing Francie love her Uncle B so much. Grandma Nancy would have been delighted as well.

So. Much. Art.

Home-cooked meal when your bro is a chef.

Airplane.

Baking with Z, aprons and all.

The white doesn't usually go back that far.

A morning walk to get coffee, at the cafe where I spent all of my travel money.

Fancy dinner out at the Manisses. She's pointing to her uncle's name on the menu as Executive Chef.

This was just before Francie made new "friends" and she basically crashed a rehearsal dinner. That's our girl.

In the kitchen with Chef B Love.

Chowda at Mohegan, reminiscent of island life with LVB.

I did get a bit of reading in. Only if the Bean was watching some tube.

There was a lot of this.

Fresh homemade apple pie face.

Lots of yoga and stretching.

Candyland.

Oral surgery. Bri lost a tooth stealing my Jujyfruits. That'll show him.

Our guest room. And the Bean watching Calliou. Don't judge me, I already hate myself.

A break in the weather! And another island drive, this time we got to enjoy some sun.

This girl.

My person.

B and Z.

Flash tattoos.

Looking at pics.

Bri gets a matching tummy tat.

Mini-B.

This would steal Grandma Nancy's heart, I think.

Tha gang.

PPP.

He let her drive his truck!

Annnnnd, it was sunny, and very nearly glassy, when we left the island.

Until next time, BIRI.

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