Who: I’m Kelly, a newly-turned (read: I am newly oldfart) 32-year-old woman/mom/ person/ occasional basketcase. I am in a not-very-scandalous affair with the written word and possess a stroke of luck and lunacy that enabled a move to a rock in the middle of the Caribbean sea with my beautiful boy children (Holden and Casey) and the overachieving love of my life (Chris.) If the run-on sentence doesn’t convey both my anxiety and excitement about this, nothing will.
This is us, pre-Chrismas Boat Show (amazing) and looking appropriately nerdy. From left: Holden, Chris, Kelly, and Casey.
That is also me in the header above, equipped with hair in sore need of styling, unusually tan skin, and a blind optimism that the hike I was on was about to reach its grand finale. Little did I know, we actually missed the sign to the proper path, and instead had another 7 miles of climbing along an abandoned, ironically-named Scenic Rd (scenic with blown out tires and that’s about it). Yet when one is faced with a Titanic “I’m the King of the World”-type moment, one must embrace it with true gusto, lest face the wrath of the DeCaprio (that might be spelled incorrectly but I refuse to look it up) gods . Plus, there were tide pools at the end, so it was well worth the meandering.
What: I am not anyone of rank or celebrity; it is in fact a blinking question mark of dubiousness if anyone will actually end up reading this virtual rag. But, I have a selfish desire to catalog the current adventure that my family is on, so here goes nothing.
When: This blog begins two days before Christmas 2011, thus the homage to the fantasticness (yes, I make up words, like Whitman, ok?) that is “Rudolph and the Island of Misfit Toys.” I might also be waxing nostalgic a bit about Jem and the Misfits, but you’ll never make me admit it. More specifically, Chris was a little teen punk, so the Misfits part suits him. Last, but definitely not least, my kids have a tendency to be delightfully willful whilst also running apeshit all over the place, so “misfit” is a nice way to put it.
Where: Saint Croix, United States Virgin Islands. A place we moved to in October 2011, and thus far the strangest, most beautiful place I’ve ever been.
How: In varying written states of mood, I’d imagine, all dependent upon the oscillating cycles of my mood, fatigue, hunger, misanthropy, and jar of Jack Daniels. Also, I have now found an appropriately-seaside home for my cursing-like-a-sailor mouth, so if cussing offends you, you might wish to eff off.
But, if you’re the type bitten with a bit of wanderlust – or seeking sick curiosity about the details of 2 adults hauling 2 incredible kids, at the horrifying ages of 2 and 1, from their birthplace in Austin, Texas, to a rock in the Caribbean sea – feel free to read on and drop me a line.
Because after all, no woman is an island.