Lasts

Today is the last day. Vacation ending tomorrow all of us returning home, I woke up to haze. Different shades of gray as far as the eye could see. Appropriate gloom for the last day. What a shame for tanning. As luck would have it, the day brightened, the sun pushing away the clouds. Yay, beach weather!

So what did we spend the day doing? Beaching it. But today was no normal beach day. Today was beach tumbling day. The nut that I am, I took to my most impressive gymnastics moves, joined by Elise, and later Nancy. And, yes, it was caught on film. Some good blackmail material, I'm sure. My fun ended with a little yoga. Covered in sand, I think the close of my day was the warrior pose. A girl can dream...!

The last night at the beach, the frig packed and divied up, we went out for dinner. Afterward, Elise & I hit Bud & Alley's for one last night out. I was the DD, dancing & not drinking. It was nice. I enjoyed! It was so fun to see what idiots we become (Elise excluded) when drunk. We scream, fall, belch and just generally make fools of ourselves. There was also a group of swingers at the bar as well. Yikes, my friends! I'm not one to judge, but I'm not one to...well, you get the idea...

The Boathouse

Another day at the beach followed by a trip to the Boathouse. A Destin favorite, Burt and Nancy (one of the couples in the family) got engaged there. So not only is it just fun to slurp down fresh oysters, drink beer and hang with locals, but it also holds a special meaning for 2 of us in the group. It's a dive. Floating on the water. But fun, fun, fun.

Burt had planned to take Nancy on a boat to ask her to marry him but was late...missed the boat. Literally. The way he describes that day, the ring was burning a hole is his pocket the entire drive down. He got stuck in traffic, got lost (yes, Burt is a man, God bless him) and ended up late on the big day. The 2 of them had met online. They had both been married before, Burt divorced, Nancy a widow, heart-breaking, and both were separately dared by friends to put up profiles online through AOL's dating service. They'd never met, started chatting, and that's all she wrote. So, no boat ride, they headed to the Boathouse. The inside is covered in dollar bills, including Burt & Nancy's, knick-knacks, license plates, and a bra or 800. They found their dollar, still hanging on one of the rafters. Here's to happiness, Burt & Nance. You're inspiring! And thanks for sharing. The Boathouse gets a thumbs up!

P.S. Can someone dare me to join an online dating service? And all of you who have cute, single male friends, can ya dare them too!?!

Mr. Never?

So maybe I'm not supposed to love one man. You know that Prince Charming crap and all, well, I always thought it applied to me. Granted, my Prince Charming would probably have tatoos, smoke cigarettes and ride a Harley or something (sorry, Mom!), but I guess I always believed in that whole one guy, one girl thing. So happy together...not so sure anymore. Matter of fact, maybe I'm not ever even supposed to be in a relationship. I do them pretty poorly usually. Maybe I'm supposed to have a series of beautiful moments with beautiful people, and then my constants, those friends who'll always be mine. Filling my heart. I wonder. Would I be satisfied? I think I might.

Marathon

I awoke this morning about 4:30 to watch a lunar eclipse. I've slept on the sofa a few nights, including this one. I had been awakened a few times, the full moon beaming in through the sliding glass doors that link the living room to the three-quarter wrap-around deck. The last time I woke, I couldn't see a thing, as though the lack of light had pulled me from my slumber. Turns out the moon was obscured by clouds, that once passed, gave way to a glowing rose moon. Beautiful, this earth.

Today we had the annual Miller Lite marathon. Competitive beer-drinkers from Alabama, Georgia and even New York gathered on the beach at high noon to start the race. Much like usual marathons, the progression, or shall I say digression, is quite a spectacle. With the random break for ocean dips, salty snacks and refueling, the marathons are known to last well into the night. Those who do make it to the finish line, a motley and stumbling crew, much like your typical marathon runners. A sea of beer cans left in our wake, I think I placed in third this year. A Georgian took the gold, an Alabaman the silver. One quick note, the Alabama was drinking Bud Light, and could have been disqualfied. Instead, he was simply given a six-beer penalty.

P.S. Looking back on the latest entries, there has been mention of alcohol, or at least pictures, in way too many. Vacation is great, but I fear a liver needs a break.

Heaven

Planes cut scars into the blue, their exhaust forming boomerangs in the sky. Seagulls glide above the water, their bellies green from the water's reflection. Icicle green and crisp blue, this beach is heaven. Clouds float by like couples on a leisurely stroll. In the distance inland, dark rumblings of storms have passed us by each day. The land-bound covered in rain, we bob in the water and cook in the heat untouched by the storms. The wind and waves our natural barrier.

Ladies' night

We went out last night for ladies' night. What a riot! People on vacation do things I'm not sure they'd do normally in their day-to-day lives. Take Naomi. I don't know the woman or her name but chose to call her Naomi after the one from Mama's Family. Shoulder straps of her dress at her elbows, shimmying about the dance floor, at one point she lifted her ankle length dress up over her head onto a man with whom she'd been dancing. Guess that was her way of letting him know he was taken. Bless her heart. And his too. The whole bar stood agog as the couple danced, the man under her dress, the woman's undergarments out there for all to see. We ladies laughed our heads off. I guess Floridians are their own breed. Or maybe it's just beach people. Nope. Sure haven't had a Saturday night out like that in the city for a while. Well, maybe never...

Vacation!

Back on vaca, people, I'm in Florida. The Emerald Coast. The water is the color of jade, the sand snow. I've been coming to this part of Florida for 10 years, and this year the water is like crystal. We're staying in Bobby Bowden's house, Florida State's head football coach, for those of you who may not know. My father has a pretty strong opinion of him and laughed out loud when I told him that's where we'd be staying. Just an FYI, Dad, the deck is overrun with its very own horde of yellow jackets. The irony!

Did you know that Miller Lite is union made? At least the cans are. I wonder: shouldn't what's on the can reflect what's inside as much as the can itself? I think yes. So then, that's some union made beer. Just feels better knowing that big, sweaty, balding men made my beer. Really. Seems much better. Who want's to be drinking beer made made women who used to, say, do pedicures? Apple blossom beer? No frickin' thanks.