It's been quite a while since I have written. As you may or may not know, I have been on vacation. Today is our last day at the beach and we'll be heading home in the morning. I am going to miss this place. I could become accustomed to lounging on the beach all day, falling asleep every afternoon while reading, and then showering just in time to go out for a delicious dinner. It's a rough life, but someone has to do it. Right?
Actually, we are probably leaving the beach at just the right time. After seven straight days of sun, sand, and surf, my skin has had about all it can handle. I thought this morning that I was beginning to look a bit leathery. I am certainly not sporting my Minnesota pasty paleness anymore. As a matter of fact, I spent today pretty much covered up on the beach for fear of looking like some of the "sun-worshipping" women I have seen around here this week. I sat in a chair at the edge of the surf with shorts and a t-shirt on. And a wide-brimmed hat. And a towel spread over my lap like some sort of sad, damp afghan. It was all very tragic. Kind of like Barbara Hershey in "Beaches." As a matter of fact, I think I was even humming "Wind Beneath My Wings" as seagulls flew overhead and passersby looked at me sympathetically. I think I overheard one of them say. "Oh, that poor woman must have cardio myopathy." To which her friend responded, "That other woman wrangling those three unruly children must be her best friend and intimate confidante, CC Bloom. Sing us a song, CC!" Ruanita, of course, was in mood to sing as she was trying to clean the gallons of sand out of Lucas' nether regions.
Yea...it might be time to leave the beach and head back to my pasty friends and family in the northland.
Actually, we are probably leaving the beach at just the right time. After seven straight days of sun, sand, and surf, my skin has had about all it can handle. I thought this morning that I was beginning to look a bit leathery. I am certainly not sporting my Minnesota pasty paleness anymore. As a matter of fact, I spent today pretty much covered up on the beach for fear of looking like some of the "sun-worshipping" women I have seen around here this week. I sat in a chair at the edge of the surf with shorts and a t-shirt on. And a wide-brimmed hat. And a towel spread over my lap like some sort of sad, damp afghan. It was all very tragic. Kind of like Barbara Hershey in "Beaches." As a matter of fact, I think I was even humming "Wind Beneath My Wings" as seagulls flew overhead and passersby looked at me sympathetically. I think I overheard one of them say. "Oh, that poor woman must have cardio myopathy." To which her friend responded, "That other woman wrangling those three unruly children must be her best friend and intimate confidante, CC Bloom. Sing us a song, CC!" Ruanita, of course, was in mood to sing as she was trying to clean the gallons of sand out of Lucas' nether regions.
Yea...it might be time to leave the beach and head back to my pasty friends and family in the northland.
2 comments:
So glad you are having such a wonderful time. Loved the Beaches scenario-too funny.
Glad to hear how wonderful your vacation was! I'd love a week at the beach...one day :)
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