Someone has violated the sanctity of the port-a-potties at Lisabeula! They have sullied the pristine beauty with graffiti! Many group members are disappointed with the quality of the graffiti, though I honestly think it’s not bad. Definitely better than I could do. (Thus proving my innocence.) But some people miss the unadorned potties and want the artists to be found and given scrub brushes. Others want to set up cameras, and some say even that’s not enough, and we need a neighborhood watch. Who volunteers to hang out at Lisabeula and watch the toilets? Maybe we could create a sign-up sheet on Google docs and take it in shifts.
If you’re pregnant, you will go into labor at exactly 2:01 am, right after the last ferry has sailed. It happened to me five years ago. My water broke at 2am. I ended up waiting until the 7:00 am ferry, then, for the only time in my life, cutting the ferry line. They announced over the loudspeaker that there was a woman in labor in the car behind the bus, and all the walk-on passengers on the car deck applauded and waved as we drove off. This was the most famous I have ever felt. It was like my own personal Strawberry Festival Parade. There’s a great collection of stories on the group of people being born on the ferry, or not even making it to the ferry and being born in the car. I recommend reading them for a pick-me-up.
In animal news, a husky ran through the aisles of IGA and has since been caught and brought to VIPP. It was not my husky out on an escapade this time. Mine would have gone straight for the frozen burritos.
A cougar has been sighted near the lumber shop. Coyotes have been taking chickens in broad daylight. And now deer are uprooting the grass when they eat from our lawns. Basically, nature is taking the Earth back.
A mysterious set of moss-covered rock steps leading nowhere is in the forest. Turns out it was a millstone intended for the Russian czar and never delivered. It got turned into a picnic table. The steps once led to a viewpoint that’s now hidden among trees.
Now I just need an explanation for the train tracks leading into the ocean at Point Robinson.
A lost hat that was placed on a tree has been reunited with its owner. Once at the Strawberry Festival, my daughter fell asleep in her stroller and dropped her favorite stuffy. We let the group know, and someone found it among the throngs of people, smooshed strawberries, leashed goats, and tie-dye shirt vendors. They put it on the bench by Thriftway. Reuniting people with lost objects is the sort of neighborhood watch I could get behind.
Author: Anna Shomsky
I'm a former teacher and a data engineer living on Vashon Island. My writing has appeared in Five on the Fifth, Women on Writing and on the Post-Culture Podcast. I wrote and produced the radio show Whispers of Vashon for 101.9 KVSH. I’ve had short stories published in the anthologies Island Stories and Chicken Scratchings, as well as through the Open Space Literary Project.
I had train tracks leading into the water at a house I rented in Dockton. It was for boats built at the Martinolich boat yard. They’re for launching boats only, ma’am, trains don’t do well underwater.