the sands of time

I don’t know if anyone has noticed, but my posts have been predominately photo-centered lately. It occurred to me that the reason is that I have not had time to write. This feels like a cop-out sort of thing to say, but it also feels very much like the frank truth. And I don’t even have TV or radio to fill time—but it still is all filled!
I’m not really sure how this happens, but I do hope that it shall pass, and that the time to write shall return.
I am pretty sure that my over-busyness is a simply byproduct of newness is this job/life. Part of it is also due to the fact that this particular job is life-consuming because of the fact that I am housed in the church home; this leads to a constant stream of activity in the home and a subsequent lack of “self” time. Another aspect that crunches time is my reliance on my own two feet, or rides with others, for transportation: errands, activities, and business just takes longer these days.
So what, I wonder, am I doing with my life as it is? Ok. Thinking . . .
I attend Church Wednesdays, Sunday Mornings, and Sunday Evenings. I plan twice weekly Youth Meetings/Outings [last night was cooking night, making lasagna together at my place. Today was horse-back riding day, thanks to a contact I have made with the owner of a local horse farm]. I plan and teach Sunday School. I take whatever Church events are taking place in any given week. I go to choir practice. I sing with the choir.
I manage this house, dealing with plumbing, landscaping, cleaning, and anything that needs doing to prepare for the arrival of a hopefully soon-to-come new pastor. I clean. I re-clean after youth meetings. I clean again. I re-clean again ☺
I buy food for youth events. I prepare said food. I buy more food. I prepare said more food ☺ I tweak the website I’ve been setting up for the church.
I meet with other Youth Workers, through the island-wide Youth Workers’ Association. I try to figure out how to manage all my paperwork so that this new Youth Program is properly documented, legally run, and safely conducted.
Well, you get the idea. We all have this thing called life, and it sort of demands to be lived for us all—we no doubt all know what it feels like to run out of time, all the time!
I do hope to—no, plan to—have some decent writings soon. As soon as I can settle into a more normal routine. But in the meantime, please be patient with me as I keep up with my job—with my life—here in this new role in which I find myself.

you’re never fully dressed . . .

. . . without a smile. Though smile or none, my young charmer is still significantly more dressed than last I saw him :-)

rubber duckie, you’re the one

Initially passing this young charmer with a smile and a wave, I could not resist backtracking in order to intrude upon his privacy–albeit a rather forcedly public sort of privacy, seeing as how his tub is located in his front yard, next to the sidewalk. At any rate, what I did is ask for his permission to take this photograph.
He replied with what is, I suppose, the only reasonable reaction of a young nude lad when approached by a woman: he asked me if I would be his girlfriend.
Since I could not think of any reason why not at the time, I told him I would be honored . . . wonder which number I am in his little black book ☺

palm crosses

This is what I had my students make yesterday morning in Sunday School. It also ended up making for some fun beach fame, as when I was gathering the palm leaves on the beach I ended up making one for a nearby child. She then summoned her friend saying, “Make one for her too, Miss!” And soon I had a small crowd of youngsters lined up for their own palm crosses. I guess you never know when a simple item will be a hit with children.

cayman cuisine

I have been experimenting with local fare in my kitchen lately, trying whatever I can affordably cook. This has led to some definite trial-and-error experiences with common items such as wahoo fish [which I baked whole, figuring out how to go from there], cow heart [surprisingly tasty, and cheap!], and conch [which donated its shell to grace my bathroom decor]. Today was a new one, however. As food prices are sky high, I have so far not been willing to shell out the $12/lb necessary for fresh tuna. But this afternoon I was chatting with some fisherman and this gentleman was kind enough to give me several cuts from his catch: quite an impressive one, as you can see!

a holiday weekend, island style

This is what one does on Easter weekend here on the island: “camping.” What it means is that everything shuts down for the weekend [shops, grocery stores, businesses, etc.–everything except for the churches, that is. And families set up tents and live on the beach, carrying with them all they need: stereos for reggae, grills for fish frying, portable showers to use in the public toilets, even televisions.
Granted, in my case, today meant church, choir practice, then going to the beach just long enough for these friends to tease me about my low tolerance for beach bumming . . . just call me “whitey” :-)

ah, sweet youth

During our Youth Meeting last night, I captured on film a rare moment of reflective tranquility as these two young teens gazed thoughtfully at a work of art . . .
Ok, so maybe Cayman youngsters aren’t that unlike your average teenager; perhaps, more accurately, they humoured me as I orchestrated their poses in order to have an excuse to take a photo of this painting I found in the house which is my current favourite, and which hangs prominently above my bed.

our daily fish

After taking this fisherman’s photo, I lingered to ask him what kind of fish he was skillfully de-scaling at the time. “Red Snapper,” he replied. Then he looked up at me, asking with mild interest, “Are you a publisher?”
Curious as to what might have prompted this idea, I told him that no, I was not a publisher. But I offered that I did, however, write, and liked to take photos about what I wrote.
“So you write about fish?”
Though I smiled at this thought, I had to admit that it was a reasonable one as I told him that no, I did not. Pausing to think about what, in fact, I did write about, I ended up deciding that it was probably just about “daily life.”
This seemed to satisfy him, as he nodded and then answered, “Yes—fish is daily life.”
How oddly profound, this simple fact.

. . . with silver bells & cockle shells

Passing by Ms. Gardening Gertie’s place again today, I paused to admire what I presumed to be the fruits of her labour. It appealed to my aesthetic tastes in an unexpected way, being more vibrantly floral than I generally prefer. As I approached, however, I realized that this was not exactly a fruit of her labour after all: this is in fact simply a pot of fake blooms prominently featured in the center of her smooth-dirt lawn. It is possible, I suppose, that her quirky attire is due to something other than pure gardening bliss . . .

how does your garden grow?

Contrary to what her eclectically layered attire might indicate, the day was actually quite toasty–I like to speculate that this lovely lady gets so lost in her gardening bliss that she is unaware of such trivialities as the weather: all that exists for her in this moment is her gardening spade in her hands and the earth at her feet.