I’ve fitted all the boys with their new life jackets and strung fishing poles. I’ve untangled lines and replaced bobbers more times than I care to remember. I practiced taking fish off hooks for the first time in my life and experimented with different baits, hotdog bits and Velveeta cheese. I’ve purchased oops paint (at rock bottom prices) and dreamt off how we’ll decorate our room in Scott’s mom and dad’s new cottage. We are counting the days and dreaming away the nights until we are able to step foot, legally anyway, into the new cottage.
Our island is guarded by a tiny little drawbridge with a tiny little guard gate. Although, much to the amazement or four little boys, our tiny little bridge is under some major construction and will probably be getting a little larger.
Today, we toured the island to get a feel for the place and familiarized ourselves with the areas we will soon be frequenting.
On Pine Island…
you can repurpose… anything. Why get rid of old dolls and purple rocking chairs when you could adorn your front porch with them.
On Pine Island…
you can start collecting anything… no matter how creepy. Just blame it on the island spirit that moves you in creative directions.
On Pine Island…
there is no need for sidewalks when you have piers or boardwalks or what ever the local waterside walkway terminology is…
On Pine Island…
you can wear anything, even if you own a ridiculous pair of shoes you claimed at a thrift shop the other day and every time you put them on your husband shakes his head.
On Pine Island…
they believe in small government. Clearly the island people have things figured out on their own. I’m wondering where the sign up sheet is so I can make sure we take our shift.
On Pine Island…
they seem to have priorities… Maybe not those priorities of the mainland, but priorities none the less.
On Pine Island…
there is a really fine, really blurry line scratched in the sand between work and play. Island careers and island hobbies may actually be one in the same.
On Pine Island…
you can decorate your mailbox with equipment from your job. I’m still deciding if we should decorate our mailbox with Fed Ex dollies or bed side commodes and walkers from the hospital.
On Pine Island…
you can launch your kayak from any dead end. That is if you are lucky enough to have a husband that hasn’t recently banned you from Craigslist and have access to all those used kayaks from slightly odd people.
On Pine Island...
you can attend a semester or two at the American Bible College and maybe even get a degree. I wonder if the take the Pell grant.
On Pine Island…
you can take a walk on the creepy side and visit the Randell Research Center. It will not disappoint I assure you. I’ve been there three times and each time was creepier than the last. I was always the only visitor and it was quite mysterious what exactly they were researching, possibly the psychological responses of skeptical female tourists. It has a hatchy feel to it, like on Lost. Even today, there were some scientists or archeologists or really good actors sifting through evidence in a stream with some scientific gadget. I gave them the “I’m totally on to you and know exactly what you’re doing” look. They didn’t seem to get it.
On Pine Island…
you can but one, or eight billion, palm trees. All varieties and all species available. Pine island is known for it’s plantations.
On Pine Island…
you can attend the Holy Mother of the Miraculous Medal Catholic Church conveniently located on Holy Mackerel Street. I wish they would change the name to Miraculous Story of the Holy Mackerel, but I think I’ll wait until after we become members or at least until I have my Bachelors from the American Bible College, that should give me a little more credibility.
On Pine Island…
you can unwind from a long hot week on the mainland. Although this one really speaks for itself.
On Pine Island…
you can photograph even the scrubbiest tree and it magically transforms into a photo of paradise.
On Pine Island…
even the dumpsters seem a bit more relaxed and a little less uptight.
On Pine Island…
the sirens call you to partake in the lifestyle and drink the Kool Aid. If you put your ear up to the screen and really listen you can even hear them calling you.
On Pine Island…
the population counter lady better watch her numbers because I can’t guarantee that I will be able to part with this island and this lifestyle and these people every Sunday night just to head back for a mundane mainland Monday.
Pine Island here we come.
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