Beach Bits,  Life Lessons,  Slow Living

Slow Living Part Two


It feels like fall here lately but I know it’s a trick. Summer here usually lasts until Halloween so I’m not digging out my sweaters anytime soon. I’d rather shiver all fake-fall long, in layers and hoodies than put on an actual warm wooly pull-over sweater because the sun is watching me and as soon as I do, it will poke it’s angry head out of the clouds and make everything A HUNDRED DEGREES! I can’t complain though because of the whole no snow, no mud, no ice thing. We do have it pretty good here.dogs-being-dogs2

The girls and I have started a tradition of going to the beach on Saturday mornings. Remember my old beach that I used to take walks on everyday and share pictures here? Same one.  I miss that old beach so this new dog-morning tradition is fixing that up.

The beach allows dogs on leashes on the beach between 7am and 10am which is perfect because I don’t think I could handle the dogs on the beach any longer than that. They are so dirty and ill-behaved. It’s pretty much sand and digging and dirty, smelly dogs for hours. Then we haul the sandy wet dogs back into town for bagels and coffee, walking of course. It’s great. The dogs then try to eat our bagels and get wet sand all over everyone and the other patrons at the bagel shop get annoyed with us but we persevere. I have a theory that the more we do this the easier it will get.


The lovely thing about beach-dog mornings is that we have amnesia about them. While we are there the girls complain about everything under the sun. They are wet, they are not wet enough, they should have worn their swimsuits or leggings or ugg boots or whatever, they don’t want to carry their leggings or ugg boots or flip flops or whatever… they are cold or hot or they want to stay longer, they stubbed their toe on a rock, they are starving and need to eat right this very minute or use the bathroom…etc etc.


I’m not much better myself. I’m getting pissed at the dogs for fighting with each other or eating seaweed or drinking drainage run-off water that is probably contaminated with some kind of algae that will make them puke in the truck later…but then magically, as we climb over the hill back to our inland city, those bad memories dissipate into thin air just like the humidity. All we remember is how pretty the beach was, how the ocean was so peaceful and grand at the same time, how beautiful the sky was in it’s myriad of subtle colors stretching on forever…and how yummy the bagels were as if the salt in the air perfected their flavor somehow. It’s funny how the misery of the beach becomes what you savor later.

Just like I always say, you love what you suffer for! Psychology 101.

So my message for today is: get out there and suffer a little!


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