New Jersey

I took exactly two photos in Jersey this trip. This is one of them.

The other one you probably would be even less interested in because it's of my niece and the family dog. Both with Phillies hats. (I call Brandy the family dog because though she belongs to my parents, we've all adopted her. All except for my husband, who in general is not a fan of dogs. Unless they're the dogs that lie around all day with no energy.)

To sum up: beach, greasy foods, a winning Phillies game (with a walk-off homerun--we ordered that in advance). Exciting stuff.

The good news is my travels are over. Which means a return to routine. Which, oddly enough, means a return to interesting things to say.

Isn't that paradoxical? It seems when my life is more interesting, I have less to say. When life settles into the mundane, I become Chatty Chatterbox once again. I think it has something to do with the posture of contemplation. (In fact, I already have some thoughts churning regarding this. You could say I'm contemplating contemplation. Don't worry. You know I'll share.)

So until churned contemplation becomes solidified into something resembling butter, I'm signing off.

I'm speaking of New Jersey, of course, the land upon which God will model the new earth.

As much as I love this great state, I had second-guessed my decision to take my annual trip. With finances what they are (or aren't, rather), did I need this research trip? I know the area, the mindsets, the lifestyles. I know how things work.

Going was the right decision. I had been afraid about writing my next novel for multiples reasons. Those fears haven't left. But ideas begin to shout over the fears. Besides some logistics, as I walked the streets of the town, Sarah began to emerge. She told me about her childhood, where she went to school, and the beauties and pains of early marriage. She told me about the chemical spill across the street at the dry cleaners.

Now, I'm ready to tell her story.

I suppose this relates to the importance of setting. It's more than the location of the story. Setting dictates the rhythms of life. It's bound up with character. I needed to breathe Sarah's atmosphere to know her.

And I might have snuck in some fun while there, too.

I beseech thee, oh bakers of bread, slicers of meats, suppliers of groceries, upon thy honor to apprentice thyself to a Jersey baker, deli worker, and grocery supplier.

It's good to be in a land where people get you. You guys know what I mean? They understand why you crave the foods you crave or want to be the places where you want to be. They understand why you need to be by water.

Water people. That's who we are.

Note to those who don't live in Philly or South Jersey: that's pronounced wooter people.