The weather has been absolutely gorgeous, so I will not waste too many words and instead go directly to some awesome pictures of grandson Charlie at the beach in Lincoln City, Oregon.
Enjoy!
It was a very windy day, as you can see by Ken’s jacket. Doesn’t he look cute carrying my puggie purse and sweatshirt?
Oh, no! The surf has reached my pathetic pedicure!
When the water reached my ankles, I decided that I had had enough.
Thank you all for following us on our adventures.
This whole “being a grandmother to a teenager” is more fun than I had ever imagined, but then again, I loved it when my own kids were at Charlie’s age, too.
Charlie has always been reluctant to call me Grandma. I’m not sure why. He has said that I am too young to be a grandma. (Talk about knowing how to earn brownie points.) I was only 31 when he was born, and technically I am a “step,” but that doesn’t matter when love abounds.
But now, for whatever reason, he’s changed and he has started calling me Grandma Jen about half the time. Maybe it has something to do with all the other grandma types here at the RV park calling me his grandma. My inclination is to believe it is Grandpa’s doing, wanting Charlie to call me Granny.
I don’t know, but I do know that I love it. It is a special privilege to be his grandma, and as I said, I loved those early teen years with my own kids.
Besides, I have just enough insanity coursing through my veins to make me a big kid at heart, anyway.
At thirteen, Charlie’s appropriateness filter hasn’t fully developed, yet his curiosity is fully engaged, and so he will ask some of the oddest questions—and some of the most personal. I answer at my own discretion, and often with tongue in cheek.
Yesterday afternoon when we took the dogs for a walk, Charlie and I found a secluded—and deep—hole in Neskowin Creek, which runs through the park property.
I dared him to wade in, and then he dared me to do the same. I told him that if I were to get in, I would have to take my pants off, at least. His face turned red, and he threw up his hands, “You are not going to remove your pants, Grandma Jen!”
We both laughed, and of course I waded in fully clothed, stopping only when the water reached the bottom of my bra. I did not want to win any wet T-shirt contests on my way back to camp (not that this fluffy girl couldn’t pull it off still ☺).
We talked yesterday after our swim about my skinny-dipping past. Yes, I have a past. Then he asked if Grandpa was with me when I skinny dipped. No, it was long before I met Grandpa. “Oh, well, then were there boys there?”
“Okay, kiddo, you are getting a little personal.”
Then he burst into laughter, turned red, and rolled on the floor. Yes, the tiny, limited floor of the Raven. Poor dogs had to run for cover.
My only regret is that the only “proof” of my dip is a picture of my soggy feet, and me in desperate need of a pedicure.
So if anyone knows where I can get a pedicure out here on the North Oregon Coast, then hook a girl up. I would like to be a sexy young grandma, not just a grandma. There’s still a lot of fire, secrets, and smoldering desire under all this fluff. But maybe that is TMI. My filter isn’t fully developed, either. ☺☺☺
I went for a walk yesterday morning, searching for a bit of peace, a place where my pain might not be able to find me. At least for a time. I’ve had a bad exacerbation lately and I am not doing well at all. I’ve had a migraine for three days’ running, again, plus the unrelenting body pain.
I left the Raven about 5:30 that morning, with the fog still boxing us in and the air still a bit crisp and damp. I walked with my big camera hanging around my neck and my cane in my left hand, just in case, up into the woodsy area behind the RV park. I kept climbing and climbing, hoping to reach the top, hoping to feel the rays of the morning sun on my face. Hoping for clarity in all the issues bogging me down right now.
I never did reach the top. I never did find solace from my pain. Or answers to my issues.
Will I ever be free of this pain? I pray and pray. But I cannot outrun it and no one can suffer it for me.
What I did find on my walk were some beautiful plants and birds. These are the things that keep me going from one moment to the next, God’s beauty. A special thank you goes out to a very good friend who reminded me tonight of all the beauty that surrounds me even when I am in pain. Thank you. You can always make me smile.
So until God takes away my pain, it will be one day at a time. Just one more day at a time.
