It's The Turtle Of Life

Seaweed Jr. ready to go!

A few days ago I had an amazing experience in Acapulco.  Doesn’t seem possible after the recent violence there, but Adam & I indeed found a little something that was better then we could have expected.

Adam has been a fan of turtles since we purchased a cute little turtle puppet for my niece Émilie in Grand Cayman a few years ago.  (Shelly travels with us as Émilie thought it best if we were the “keepers” of Shelly for a while.)  Princess offers an excursion that lets you release a baby sea turtle into the ocean off the beach where they’ve hatched at their protective turtle farm.  We jumped on the opportunity and there we were, being handed our own little baby turtle, only 15 hours old between our thumb and index finger, wriggling around as if already riding the waves of the ocean they were about to venture out into.  Their tiny shells, no bigger than a loonie (or a mini York Peppermint Patty for my friends south of the border) were still soft, but there they are, ready to go into the great unknown.  I really didn’t want to let him go, so scared for him.  How can this tiny little thing, just hatched and still blind, understand the dangers that were out there, almost waiting for him?  Not only did he have to just make it to that first wave, but after that survive the waiting predators, fishing nets and strong currents that loomed in his future.  But, the second I placed him on the beach, he took off like a rocket, literally running to the waves.  Within seconds he was on the edge of the wave that would change his life forever, and in he went, without hesitation, knowing ultimately it’s where he belonged.

I’m currently standing on the edge of a big wave, a life change that has me hesitating at the beach, wondering if I should turn and run back to the safety of the sand, what I’ve known and felt is right for the past seven years.  But something about the unknown, that big open scary world is making me run right into it.  Right into bills, schedules, and a job I know is right for me.  Yes ladies and gentlemen, this turtle will be hanging up her shell from cruise ship life to try out land life and give it a fighting chance.  Not to worry!  I won’t necessarily be depriving the world of my meadowlark-like tones, I just honestly need to give my voice a rest after this year, and give my equilibrium a sense of stability for a few months. 

I have been lucky to have pursued my dream, albeit on a cruise ship, (remember when that job was scoffed at?  No more debt and a nice nest-egg started thanks to that second rate performing gig!) and I am lucky to close it off (for now) with a wonderful group of talented and graceful people…except Jamie.  She’s got issues.  Anyway, some people get to dabble in their dream for only a day as a once in a lifetime, and I got to sing to thousands of people a week for the last seven years, and drag my family and friends along the way to experience this life as best I could.  It hasn’t always been smooth sailing from contract to contract, but without the waves, there would be no stories to tell, no lessons learned, no Manolo Blahnik’s purchased.

I never say never, but for now, like my Shelly and Seaweed Jr. in Acapulco, I eagerly wait to crash into the next wave of excitement that is our life on land.

Fingers crossed for calm seas.

Day By Day

I get to do a lot of really great things working on a cruise ship, but the best thing is turning another page on the calendar that hangs on my bathroom door.  My in-laws created a lovely personalized calendar for the year 2011 with pictures of family and friends, and turning those pages over one month at a time brings a happiness like no other.  All the sunbathing, mud volcano swimming, turtle watching & zip lining doesn’t compare to the thrill of the countdown.  I appreciate and enjoy the aforementioned events, but as the light at the end of the tunnel gets larger by the day, so does the realization that I’m going home.

To make this event a daily occurrence, I have two day-to-day calendars that I cross off every evening.  One is a cruise long schedule, and one a list of which ports we’re in on what day.  If Adam beats me to it, I am envious.  First of all, he crosses off the days with a messy, uneven line, and doesn’t say my line “one day closer to getting off this tub!” with the same enthusiasm I do.  I cross each day off with a smooth elegance of black Sharpie™ bliss.  I do love my job, but the reality of surprising my niece when I pick her up from school, or enjoying that first bite of Mom-made dinner (I am requesting Shepherds Pie please!) can’t be beat by anything.   I know that six weeks later I’ll be panicked as my bank account depletes with each trip to Shopper’s Drug Mart, but approaching the end of a contract is always exciting and full of anticipation.  Will my suitcases bare the weight of 12 months of purchases?  Will my luggage survive the 4 layovers I’m sure to get flying from the northern most point of Alaska?  Am I ready to go back to land and pay bills, drive a car and find a place to live?

The past seven years, those last few things have never been an issue.  Living contract to contract on ships I’ve been happy to crash in my parents basement or on the couches of generous friends, but this time I’m most excited to settle and enjoy land life for a while.  A long while.  My husband and I spent a total of 5 weeks out of 12 months in our first apartment together, and while cabin 5728 has been great for us, we’re ready for a permanent address that’s less than 8 lines and doesn’t contain a vessel name or “c/o” label. 

I currently have 68 days, or 2 more page turns until I even think about packing or surprising anyone, so I’ll just take it day by day, and stroke my Sharpie™ cleanly across the page and enjoy the days as they come.

But honestly, who’s counting?