Sandy Beach

I knew walking Lota at Sandy Beach would relax me. It always seems to, no matter the weather, and today’s weather was grey and rainy and a bit cold. I left work around 5:30, which felt extremely liberating. I had left the office close to 2 am this morning, 10 pm the night before. Long days, not enough sleep, far too much stress.

I stayed late at work on Monday because I applied for a training with Planet Money. I put myself out there, again, and I’m not expecting a favorable outcome. I wasn't even going to throw my name in the hat. I had only found out about the 2-day training in New Orleans on Friday, from a coworker who encouraged me to apply. Annie. Young, tall, pretty Annie who seems to have the whole world in front of her. (Did people once think that of me?) She’s in the Arts and Culture office and is always championing me on. I told her I’d take a look at it, but had weekend plans - a cabin I had rented six months prior - and likely wouldn’t be able to get an application together.

The weekend passed. I maybe thought about it once, but wasn’t regretting anything. When I got into work early Monday morning after dropping Scott off for his weeklong dive trip, my boss’s boss said I should apply. He apologized for the late notice. I had two morning meetings that day, a midday newscast and then wrote a story. And then I applied for a training I hadn't given too much thought to. I touched up my resume (but likely not enough), found some stories to link to, and wrote a cover letter. I hate writing cover letters. It always feel like starting from scratch. Except it wasn’t for a job. It was for a training that, as I wrote and deleted and wrote more of the cover letter, I wanted to get more and more.

And now that I’ve applied and gotten confirmation that they received the application, I want to the be accepted. Eight spots. National applicant pool. I’m trying not to get my hopes up.

It’s hard to put yourself out there. It’s not worth doing if you half ass it. But if you don’t half ass it and you full ass (?) it, then you’re setting yourself up for disappointment. And why would I willingly introduce that element into my life? I don’t know. But I did and I guess it’s still good to take chances even if there’s not much hope. And I guess I determine how much hope to put in.

I feel like I’m in high school writing a paper for Humanities class about chances.

When I first got to Sandy Beach today, there seemed to be the typical amount of people and dogs on for a rainy post work evening. I was glad I had put on my rain pants, feeling adequately protected from the elements. The tide was coming in and there was a lot of soft, muddy sand. With the ChuckIt I threw the ball into the ocean, wanting to tire Lota out. I had deprived him of a lunch time walk so I wanted him to enjoy himself. I didn't walk as far as I could’ve, opting to turn around sooner, not wanting to pass a pair of women I’d have to say hi to. I stood for a bit at the edge of the water near the Sandy Beach pump house, throwing the ball as far as I could. And that’s when a calm came over me. I love that pump house with it’s old stone walls and new metal roof. It’s the type of structure that oozes sentimentality and nostalgia. And I fall for it every time.

As I started walking back, the people and dogs seemed to have disappeared. I was alone on the beach except the two women behind me out of sight. Then I saw movement. I assumed it was a dog. But I didn't see its human anywhere nearby. I kept looking and realized it was a bald eagle feeding on a washed up dead fish. I kept walking toward it and throwing the ball into the ocean for Lota, making sure I’d leave a wide berth between us and it. It kept feeding and as I got closer, I saw it attempt to lift the fish up and fly off. It didn't even get any air; the fish carcass was much too heavy. It flapped its wings and flew away. But it didn't go far. I saw it land in a nearby tree, surely eagle eyeing the fish and me to see when it was a good time to return. I inspected the carcass. It was guts and pink flesh of a half chewed salmon with a very hooked nose. If Scott was here, he could tell me which species of salmon. All I know is that it was very big.

When I started the day today, I couldn't believe it was only Wednesday. I felt like I had worked more days.

The email confirming that my application was received said I’d find out by the end of the week. Why is tomorrow only Thursday?