Cape | Good Times with Jess

I’m officially the age when I can’t remember how old I’m turning, but I’ve figured it out just in time. 44! I can no longer claim early forties.

The other day Captain was hard pressed to remember what town we live in, so that’s what happens in your fifties.

BB, my first baby, is 10! I don’t know if it’s harder to believe she’s 10 or that I’ve been living this mom life for 10 years now.

I’ve been living this blog life twice as long and it has taken me twice as long as usual to get a post out.

Decamping for the Cape, a holiday weekend and two birthdays will do that to a person.

Plus there’s limited early morning peace for me on the Cape, which is my ideal writing time.

July 4th I set my alarm, but I didn’t even need to. I popped up on my own at 5:45am.

Last July 4th I got to the beach at 6:30am. There were plenty of waterfront spots open, but someone was already in “MY SPOT.”

I was not about to let that happen again. I understand it doesn’t really matter, but it matters.

There’s always room on our private beach, BUT that would mean having a wall of people between us and the water.

No thank you.

We’re the second house from the beach, so if I’m awake, there’s really no reason not to drag some chairs down. I could be writing at 6am or I could be making sure I have MY SPOT.

Not only did I set up my spot at 5:52 am, but our dear friends had left their cabana with me, so I set that one up too.

I offered to put up the cabana of our other wonderful friends who haven’t joined us for the 4th before, but they declined. They said he was getting up early anyway, so he’d be down before I would.

To each his own, but I wondered to myself, “How is he going to know where to put the cabana? He doesn’t know where MY SPOT is.”

I also thought, “Jessica, you’re being ridiculous.” But also, “If he picks the wrong spot, I’m not deviating, so if they spend the day several cabana spaces away, so be it.”

I’d like you to know that at 5:52am I was NOT the first person setting up shop, but you know I got my spot.

Also my presence has become a barometer of sorts. Our friends in the waterfront house told me that when she sees me, she tells her husband,

“Jess is down there!” And he knows it’s time to put chairs out.

Without me, people would have to rely on their own time-management skills.

On July 4th, just as I was finishing setting up our two cabanas, the third friend showed up. His wife had warned him not to get there before I did, because he wouldn’t know the spot.

I have never felt so seen. There’s a correct spot and everyone knows there’s a correct spot, even if they’re not sure where the correct spot is.

It’s a residents’ beach, so everyone has a spot and if you’re not in “your spot” everyone will ask why you’re sitting somewhere else. And everyone will feel compelled to explain why they’re sitting somewhere else.

If someone you were hoping to sit with sits somewhere else, it can really throw off the whole day, because then you need to decide whether it’s more important to sit in the spot you want, or with the people you usually sit with.

Sometimes the people you usually sit with divide and some people are in one spot and others are in another spot and then it really becomes clear where people’s allegiances lie. Or it may signify only their tolerance for high winds versus protection up by a dune.

July 4th is another story. I don’t know where all the people come from, but they’re not around the rest of the summer. And they take up a lot of spots.

When I was a lifeguard on these beaches, the head honcho was the Recreation Director. There must’ve been a reorg because now there’s this guy walking around:

If I were looking for a summer side hustle, and if it were possible to be the Beach Director for just my specific beach, I’d be interested.

I know the Beach Director is not in charge of making sure people sit in their “correct” spots, but I’m sure they could if they wanted to.

All anyone has to say is, “Piping plover” and the prime spots clear out.

Now that the 4th is over, I’m back to a relaxed morning setup. But not so relaxed I have time to sit and write. Nor am I setting my alarm to catch the earliest writing window.

When BB meanders out around 7am, she asks,

“Did you take the stuff to the beach?”

Unless it’s terrible weather, that’s just about all I need to hear to get a move on.

It might be possible to write a blog from my spot on the beach, it is a great spot, and conducive to many things, but writing does not seem to be one of them.

My favorite spot to write is in my corner of the couch. The only person I’m fighting with for that spot is a very feisty cat.

Can’t quite see my spot from here. It’s a little bit to the left, on a good day. 😉

Happy summer! I made a mad dash to the Cape and I left my laptop behind. I left many other things behind: my bra, my hairdryer, not my children, but nothing left me more flummoxed than the laptop.

My plan was to have written a blog post already. Pen and paper crossed my mind, but I haven’t composed anything on paper longer than a thank-you note in 20 years.

I spent this week considering the pen and paper route and that’s as far as I got until I was reunited with my precious.

Last Saturday I made a solo trip down to open the Cape house. Anything with the word solo in it sounds lovely.

It did not turn out to be lovely, but I was still very grateful to be solo.

I went down to the basement to turn on the water. Something sounded funny. It’s at this point when it would’ve been a great idea to turn the water right back off.

I didn’t.

I took my time. I wandered around the backyard. I soaked in the ocean air. I enjoyed my coffee. I meandered back to the front door.

I may have taken more time from turning on the water to getting back in the house than ever before.

I opened the front door. I heard water gushing. It sounded like a bathtub was turned on. I panic sprinted to the other side of the house. Water was pouring out from under the laundry-room sink.

I dashed to the basement and turned the water off.

I spent the next hour mopping up water and regretting ever leaving the basement to frolic in the backyard like someone who has never dealt with a burst pipe.

I also spent the hour mopping and being so grateful I wasn’t also fielding a barrage of questions from my small children.

Although if said children had been here, I may or may not have gotten my butt inside a little faster.

Miraculously a plumber came within the hour. Water off to the sink. Water on to the rest of the house. I thanked him profusely and off he went.

I headed to the kitchen sink so excited to wash my hands for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. I turned on the faucet and water sprayed EVERYWHERE.

What is going on?! I looked at the faucet. It was corroded and there was a giant hole in it. That’s two sinks down.

We’re left with the bathroom sinks. That seems like enough water and sinks to start our beach summer, but not ideal.

The landlocked option is hanging around Captain, while he attempts to work from home. Also not ideal. We pack up (minus many items) and head to the Cape where everyone can scream as much as they want and we’ll only disturb people on vacation.

I get the kids in bed. RB is in her travel crib. She slept in it all weekend at my in-laws no complaints. She tells me,

“This is too small.”

It really is. I tell her,

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

I’m still considering it.

The weather has been hit or miss. Then along comes a bright, sunny, warm-enough-for-a-kid, beach day.

We’re down there for a minute and then I get the text: Plumber arriving in 15 minutes. I drag the kids and a very angry BB back to the house.

She’s desperate to go back to the beach. I explain,

“We need the plumber because we need to be able to use the sink.”

I’m in the process of putting RB down for a nap. She doesn’t nap everyday, but might as well if we’re home for the plumber.

BB is standing two feet away from the plumber who’s working hard to restore our way of life. She shouts,

“I WANT TO GO TO THE BEACH!”