How can a person possibly use words to describe the Pacific Ocean? The majesty, the immensity, the powerful sound of water moving forward and back, forward and back...the sound feels healing. John, Blake, and I rode down early this morning.
We brought a picnic lunch, that John made, thank heavens. I fear that if I had tried to fry the chicken, or mix the potato salad, I would somehow wind up poisoning us! My attempts to cook continue. It's ever so frustrating. I was a fairly decent cook at home, even if I do say so myself. It seems that the key was that I knew exactly how much wood to load to determine the heat I needed for whatever I am cooking.
Blake has a lovely new stove. It feels so much harder to me to regulate the heat. Sometimes I burn everything...sometimes I don't get food cooked all the way through. John doesn't seem to have that problem at all. Everything he cooks is delicious from sourdough bread, to fried chicken.
Also excellent at using the stove is Blake. I'm quite certain that he asked me to cook and clean to earn my keep was a poorly veiled attempt to make me feel better about living in HIS house, eating HIS food, and being a worthwhile contributor.
How I adore running into the waves as they retreat, and then running as rapidly as I can when they return to try and outrun them It feels like a game. Sometimes I dance in the waves. I am not a particularly skilled dancer but the feel of the cold Pacific water, with the sand moving under my feet, somehow makes me feel as talented as the greatest prima ballerina.
I had fun splashing Red and Blake...until...until they picked me up and tossed me out in the waves. Gratefully it was a hot day. Heat is unusual here at the coast. It's usually around sixty five to seventy in the Astoria area. Today was eighty degrees. Landing in the cold water I sunk rapidly, gaining a mouthful of salty sea. I came up spluttering.
I was angry for a short time. Women are expected to wear so many clothes. Walking about in soaking wet pantaloons, underskirts, overskirts, corset, chemise, skirt and blouse felt awful. It was cooling at first but quickly grew to feel as though I was being steam cooked.
Apparently Blake had thought ahead to this eventuality. He brought himself a change of clothes. I dressed in a forested area not too far from the waves. I felt rather ridiculous in Blake's clothes. After all he is six foot four, and I am five foot eight. Everything was exceedingly loose. On the other hand, it was far better than wearing all of the wet clinging clothing.
I put my clothes on a large log of driftwood that was on the beach. I hoped that they would dry before we returned home. I was tempted to toss my corset into the waves and have it carried far, FAR away from me. It is a horrible device of torture. It reduces the size of my waist, but who cares? Tom never tried to span my waist with his hands. I don't think Blake and John even notice that I have a waist.
I felt so free inside Blake's very loose clothing. I took all of the pins out of my hair, rebraided it, and pinned it up even more tightly. Then I considered. If it felt so freeing to wear loose fitting men's clothing, maybe it would feel equally freeing to let my hair just flow with the wind. I took out each and every hair pin and brushed my fingers through my hair.
When I came back out on the beach John and Blake were both silent for a long, awkward moment. John finally said, "Ardis, you have lovely hair. You should wear it down more often."
I'm not used to masculine attention. My husband never said one single word about how I looked for good or for bad. I sometimes felt that Tom viewed me as indifferently as he would a rock, or a tree. I was appreciated for utility, not aesthetics.
Our day was wonderful. We walked, talked, walked some more, talked some more. I learned that John came from a very wealthy family. Apparently they were horrified when he decided to practice medicine in the wild northwest.
Blake is quite guarded in his discussion of his family and childhood. The fact that he says so very little make me even more curious.
We returned home late, tired, and sunburned. I'm going to sleep now.
