A Day at the Beach

We'd scheduled a day at the beach and planned on leaving at 9:45am. My husband was very firm that this was the EXACT time we needed to leave.

Sad thing is, when he's not actually on Moroccan time, I seem to take over that mode.

I got up plenty early, got mostly ready, then hopped in the car to run to the grocery store and pick up some supplies to make a nice breakfast and pack a lunch.

Forgetting that there is construction on the road from my house to the grocery store, I got stuck waiting about 10 minutes on my way there. No big deal, I thought. I have plenty of time.

At the grocery store, I decided to return some bottles and cans. This is one of those stores with the "Can-Do" machines. I HATE those machines. I used to work at a grocery store when I was 17 and it was my job to count out and give slips to people who brought their cans into the store. I was MUCH faster than the dumb machines, and even the slow guy that took over for me was faster.

On top of that, one of the machines was out of order. Of course it didn't post this until it was time to print my receipt. Which meant I had to go into the store, complain that the machine ripped me off, and then go outside and wait for a manager to come and fiddle with the machine. Finally, I get my receipt for my whopping twenty cents.

Seriously? Aside that the whole process, requiring a manager's time to come out and fix the stupid machine probably costs more, is so un-customer-service-friendly that I really don't understand why stores do it.

I get so wrapped up in my annoyance at the whole thing I lose track of time and forget (again) about the construction instead of taking an alternate route. This time I wait nearly twenty minutes.

And walk in the door about five minutes before we need to leave. Somehow, I manage to cook (and inhale) breakfast, prepare snacks, drinks, and lunch for four, pack for my daughter, me, and the dog, and get into the car in about thirty minutes. My husband was annoyed, but there wasn't much I could do about it.

It never ceases to amaze me how "fun" days end up being so much more stressful in some ways than regular days.

We end up arriving at the beach in early afternoon--normally about the time we try to depart--and miraculously there is an open parking space in the lot, despite the cars parked up and down the sides of the highway. We hop out, grab our bags and the dogs (my husband's friend brought a dog too), and hike down to the beach.

My daughter has a blast letting the ocean chase her back and forth. I watch her with envy, knowing that although I'm feeling better than I used to, that kind of energy seems to be part of my past. What I am excited about is that although I'm not feeling as energetic as her, my back handled the walk just fine, which is a huge improvement from last year. My weekly hikes are more challenging, so this should seem easy in comparison. Last year I couldn't carry anything (my poor husband was responsible for gear, toddler, and dog) and I was so sore when we got to the beach that I spent the whole time just trying to find a sitting/lying position that wasn't painful. The hike up was pathetically slow and I'm pretty sure I moaned the whole two-hour car ride home.

I may have moaned a bit this year on the car ride home, but it was because I was in the back seat, slightly overheated again, and it's a curvy drive most of the way.

But it wasn't because my back hurt and it wasn't because the walk aggravated it.

Doubtful that little difference made the moaning any less annoying to my husband who had to listen to it.

But what would a day at the beach be without drama?