Labor Day Lazy

Here we are again, at the Redneck Riviera. It's not so redneck anymore. I wonder if it even remembers who it was. There are craft-beer-swilling hipsters walking around everywhere with big fuzzy beards but smooth, uncalloused hands. I don't see anybody carrying their lunch in a paper bag or any tomato sandwiches. Me and Ken are lounging like two pigs in a mudhole, but they're jogging and biking all around us. I keep wondering where they're headed. We're not worthy.

Trying to put a pause on all the busy running of our lives doesn't come cheap, even if you find a reasonable place to stay (thanks VRBO). I was only going to book 4 or 5 nights then at the last minute said baloney, we're going for broke. That means we might really go broke. Someone asked me what we could find to do for ten days. I said are you serious? You could put us on a desert island (as long as there was a food source) and would not be bored. Actually we wouldn't need a food source, just some clean water. I think we've got enough fat stores to keep us 'til winter. I've got something kin to a TV set running in my head at all times with plenty to think about. Could this be characterized as a mental illness? I honestly could hole up for a month and get these cobwebs cleared clean on outa here. The ocean air, the sand, the delicious breeze that wafts by the door....these things are healing. Who can be stressed when the waves are lapping around your feet? I'm grateful we are able to do this again. I'm breathing better already and we're only two days in. After I shed one more real estate must-do, I'm leaving it all to my broker friend and colleague who insisted on helping me vacate. Treasure.

I think there's a lot to process from this last year. Here we are, Labor Day weekend...the 38th anniversary of Ken and I's first real date. For years we'd go somewhere, usually with his family, to enjoy the mountains. And we also spent time at the beach with my folks in September. It's always been a kind-of reset time for us, marking a new school year and remembering the past. Nineteen years of schooling my kids are long gone, but I fondly recall the sweet (and exhausting) years of them being home, our world all a-tumble with their energy and antics. I see them and our grands often, but I miss them sorely. There was so much to do and so much going on, who would believe it would ever end? I can't think too long on the ends of things or I'll never quit crying. Remember. Kiss the past and my loved ones. Smile at the future.