Beach Living

I love travel and adventure, but I could have been content to continue puttering around my house for the rest of this vacation.  For example, I have a certain closet that REALLY needs de-clutterization, as well as a truck-load of research to do for a paper due next Thursday.

But instead, I’m sipping a Dr. Pepper while looking at this view:

(Actual pic)

Yes, you city-dwellers. Be jealous.

Sometimes my own sense of obligation to productivity would rob me of treats like this.  But we promised hubby’s family that we would join them at the beach house, and I’m so thankful we did! God really knows how to give me rest when I need it.

We arrived Thursday night, driving through a thick, salty fog that made a granular paste on our windshield as we neared the coast.

We stayed up with our nieces and taught them how to play Monopoly Deal—a card version of the traditional game that has the advantage of being both packable and faster to play. They loved it, and I loved watching my sweet, patient man explain the rules and encourage them as they learned. He will be a great dad someday.

Since then, we’ve been purely, delightfully lazy:

• Waking up after 10 in low-beamed bunk beds to the aroma of coffee.
• Dancing to the CD of our wedding music with my mother-in-law (hilarious!)
• Laughing at the squabbling seagulls as they fought over an unidentified piece of food near our porch.
• Eating homemade caramel corn.
• Stealing kisses from my hubby while the nieces were busy with crafts.

Yes, it's been wonderful. 

Some observations: 

The culture here in this beach-side community is slower, sunnier, and even more individualistic than most parts of America. I say more individualistic because it’s a perpetual vacation. Most residents are retirees, enjoying their golden years in a golden zone of sun, surf, and sand.  Hurricanes are never mentioned except in hushed tones, as if mentioning them aloud will jinx the paradise they enjoy.

There is one main street, one grocery store, and everything is festooned with the same ship-styled paraphernalia. The color scheme reminds me of a Mexican restaurant: coral, aqua, yellow and mint green. Shame on the beach-home owner who dares to pollute the neighborhood with a color like brown or tan!

Salt makes a gritty slime on all the windows. It makes you imagine that the waves have actually come close enough to spit their froth on the homes and cars. The salty wind turns even flat-ironed hair into an organic cloud of untamed curls—my nieces wear them permanently.

Conclusion--Beach living is a lot like sleep: a total escape from all responsibilities. I need it periodically, but only to recharge for the demands of everyday life.  

I feel refreshed, and but today I’ll be glad to go home.