By the Sea, My Shoes are Lost, My Heart is Free

I read that quote on a cute little sign in a cute little shop on St. Armand's Circle in Sarasota. And how true that is for me.

I haven't been to Florida in nearly 5 years, and while I knew that I missed our yearly trips, I didn't realize just how much until I had my first gliimpse of the Gulf of Mexico's beautiful aquamarine waters when Jean was driving me to her house after picking me up. When we got in her car in the airport parking garage, she asked if I minded the windows down, or if I wanted the AC on. Of course I wanted the windows down! My sun-starved skin had been craving that warm, salty Florida air for way too long! So as we sped down the highway in Jean's little red Nissan, all four windows down, our hair whipping around our faces, I put my head back, closed my eyes, and mentally said, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH."




And with that first sight of the Gulf, my heart, my very soul, did indeed feel free.

Later that evening as we walked along the beach, listening to the sound of the waves gently lapping the shore, the sounds of happy children playing in the sand, again my soul did indeed feel free. Just as the bluegreen sunset-tinged waters of the Gulf washed away the prints my bare feet left on the shore, they also, for a time anyway, washed away all my cares and worries. I knew they would return eventually, but for the time I was there, I took a break from them. I discovered that it is downright hard, maybe even impossible, to worry and fret when you are at the beach. There should be a sign at the entrance: Drop your worries here. Maybe that is why at times I fantasize about running away, living in a cute little beach cottage, tooling around on a pink Vespa scooter and getting a job serving fruity drinks in an open air bar with a grassy roof on the beach.

So, back to that quote. I went four whole days without wearing shoes. Well, I did wear flip flops, but those don't count. When I was getting ready to leave Thursday morning, I started to put on my running shoes. But, as soon as I put on the first sock, my mind screamed at me, "NOOOO!!!" I decided to not wear shoes, or take any. It was freezing cold when I left at dawn, but I left in flip flops. I cranked up the heat in my van on the drive to the airport, dreaming of my cold toes soon being buried in white, powdery, and most of all WARM sand. Later that day, they were, and it was heavenly.




I know I am skipping around here from topic to topic, but onto the next thing.

I always enjoyed Jean so much when she spent summers with us as a kid, and it was so wonderful to spend time with her as an adult. I think it was the highlight of the trip. We truly had so much fun. It was fun and kind of strange, too, to "drink" with her. The first thing we did after arriving at Clearwater Beach for some sunset watching was head to Crabby Bills for a drink...margarita for me, pina colada for her.


Well, technically, that was the second thing we did...the first thing was taking off our flip flops! Jean had a silly, fun personality as a kid, and she still does. So many carefree kids lose that as an adult, and it made me smile to see that Jean hasn't. I hope that my kids don't either.


We not only went to the beach, but we shopped and tried on crazy jewelry




and hats




and ate 5000 calorie ice cream sundaes as if we had not a care in the world. Actually, they weren't 5000 calories, they were "only" 800 calories. I know this because I asked. The guy behind the Ben and Jerry's counter thought I was crazy and asked me if I REALLY wanted to know. I laughed and assured him that I did. Only at the beach would I ask how many calories my sundae contained...and only at the beach would I laugh and not care.




Next topic...

In the midst of all the relaxing, carefree moments, there were a few tinged with sadness. On that first night spent walking along Clearwater Beach, I couldn't help but notice all of the families with their children happily playing in the sand and screeching as waves knocked them off their feet. I remembered how much we always loved taking the kids to the beach each year, how much they loved being there, how easily we forgot life back home while we enjoyed our vacation. And I realized how very much I miss those days. Just to torture myself, I spent some time this morning looking through the scrapbook I started years ago with pictures from all of our vacations. I'm going to post a few even though they aren't that great. I don't have a scanner, so they are pictures of pictures.

This first one is the first picture I took of the kids the very first time we took them to Florida. The kids were 7, 4, 3 and 9 months. Everyone thought we'd lost our minds, but we had so much fun, and even Lauren getting sick and throwing up all over the place in the van on the way home, in the middle of the night in Nowhereville Kentucky didn't make us regret having taken that trip.




The next pictures are of the kids at our hotel in Clearwater. I love the one of Rachel shoveling sand into her mouth with her fist. That was the battle of the week...keeping Rachel from eating the sand. Every time she pooped, it was gritty with sand. I also remember that trip for another very special reason...she started sleeping all night for the first time. She was 9 months old, and I was more than ready for that. I guess the sea air was good for her, too.





The next spring, we ended up in Sarasota at the Helmsley Sandcastle hotel. We absolutely loved it and went there 4 years in a row. We swore we would return every year. We even dreamed of still going there when our kids were adults and have their own kids. But alas, life has gotten in the way, and we haven't been there for a very long time. On Saturday, Jean and I drove to Sarasota and after browsing the shops on St. Armand's Circle, we decided to walk down the beach to the Sandcastle. Jean also had fond memories as she had been there with us one spring. It was a long walk, probably a mile from the public beach where we started out, but since we had just eaten our 800 calorie sundaes at Ben and Jerry's, we were up for it.

So much has changed along that stretch of beach since I had been there last, and I was afraid that the Sandcastle had also changed. I didn't even want to think about that. I always have thought of it as such a charming little hotel in the midst of high rise impersonal hotels. But, it hasn't changed at all. It was just how I remembered it. We walked through the pool area to the bathroom so I could put on more sunscreen. We went into the shop, and I remembered the time I saw my first ever palmetto bug on the floor and let out a scream that was probably heard in Key West while the cashier scooped it up and assured me that a 10 inch cockroach was harmless. We went into the poolside restaurant to buy cups of iced tea and lemonade, and I am almost 100% sure that the waitress was the same one from all those years ago. I took a few pictures (not of the waitress!) as I fought back the nostalgic tears, and we headed back down the beach.





I took this final picture as I said, "Goodbye beautiful beach, I hope we meet again soon."



This morning when I was flipping through my scrapbook, I noticed a caption I had written next to a picture taken of the kids on the beach at the Sandcastle in April 2000..."Ahhh, how good it feels to wiggle our bare toes in the warm sand! Heaven!" Even back then I knew the special healing properties of powdery white sand.

Another scrapbook page proclaims this:



Yes, sunny rays definately DO make happy days.

The Purse that Liked to Eat Bracelets and Other Sparkly Things

You know how you put socks in the washer, and by the time the laundry comes out of the dryer, there are always missing socks, even though you KNEW you had put matching socks in, and you can’t figure out for the life of you where they end up? Well, I have the purse version of the proverbial sock-eating washing machine, only my purse liked to eat bracelets, beads, and even a breath mint or two. Things kept going in that never came out. When I find a purse I like, I usually carry it for a good long time. However, this purse’s eating habits nearly caused its early demise because I was ready to throw it way after various items kept disappearing from it.

A few months ago, I bought this adorable bright pink purse:


It was cheap, no Coach or Dooney and Burke, or any other expensive thing. It was $12 at TJMaxx. But I love it. Lately though, I started calling it as my cute Black Hole Purse. I have put numerous things in it that just went “poof” and disappeared. The first time it happened, I thought I was just scatterbrained and put the item somewhere else. The second time it happened, I did seriously think, WTH is wrong with this purse? The 3rd time…well, I was becoming slightly worried about my sanity. By the 4th time, I emptied it out and was going to throw it away or burn it. I am not a superstitious person at all, but the way things kept disappearing from this purse was starting to freak me out a bit.

A couple of months ago, actually, just a few days after I bought the purse, I made one of the Angel Ball bracelets to take to work to be photographed. A few days later, I went to get it out of my purse when I was ready to make the rest of them, and it was gone. I was puzzled because I knew I had put it in the zippered pocket on the inside of the purse. When I couldn’t find it, I assumed I had simply misplaced it. I went on my merry way and made the rest of the bracelets and forgot about the missing one.

Then, about a month ago, I made a bracelet for my cousin who recently found out she has cancer. I put it in my purse along with a card for her when I was leaving for work because I planned on stopping at the post office to mail it later that afternoon. Well, time got away from me, I left work late, and forgot about it. A couple of days later, when I finally had time to go to the post office, I couldn’t find it. The card was still there, but the bracelet was not. This time, I emptied my purse out and was so irritated with myself for losing another bracelet as this one had about $40 worth of beads on it. I went to look in my car, thinking that maybe my purse had tipped over and the bracelet had fallen out. I looked in the bead boxes I’d been working out of lately, wondering if I had mistakenly put it away. I looked through my own jewelry. The bracelet was no where to be found. I bought more beads and made another bracelet, immediately put it in an organza draw string bag, put it in my purse, and finally got it in the mail a few days later.

A couple of weeks ago, I planned a bracelet making party with the moms in our support group. I made a bracelet and took it to work to see if my boss liked what I had created. You guessed it, eventually that bracelet disappeared as well. This time, I was left scratching my head and wondering just what in the heck was going on. I again looked in my car, bead boxes, my own jewelry, the bag from the bead store that had all the beads still in it, and no bracelet. I came up with all sorts of theories…the dog ate it…my husband was trying to drive me insane...someone was stealing them (who, I had no idea!) I decided nothing else of any importance was going into the pocket of that purse.

Then came the straw that broke the camels back.

Thursday at work, I was looking for a receipt that I needed to turn in so I could be reimbursed for something I had purchased. At the bottom of my purse, I found some loose crystals from a strand that had broken. I put them in the zippered pocket of my purse along with a pair of nail clippers. For good measure, I zipped the pocket so the beads would have the chance to fall out. Yesterday morning, I went to get the nail clippers from my purse. I unzipped the pocket, and the only thing in it were two tiny beads when I put at least 20 in there just the day before. This time, I was pissed! I turned my purse upside down, dumped everything on the counter, and decided I was going to start a fire in our fire put and gleefully watch my evil purse turn into a pile of bright pink ashes. When the contents of my purse were scattered across the kitchen island, I flopped it down on the counter in disgust. And heard slight “thunk.” The purse is soft, no hard bottom. Thinking that not only was my purse eating things in order to make me crazy, it was ensuring I did go crazy by now making me hear things. I plopped it on the counter again, and there was definitely something in the bottom of the purse. I pulled the fabric lining from the inside and began examining it for a hole, but there was none. It was obvious to me by this point that something was in the bottom of my purse between the lining and the leather part. Finally, I looked at the lining of the zippered pocket and I found a tiny little hole, less than half the size of the tip of my pinky finger. I ripped it wide open, stuck my hand through the hole and found this:




Mystery solved. It wasn’t an evil purse that likes to eat bling after all…just a cheap one with a tiny hole in the lining of the pocket. Maybe I should buy expensive purses from now on. I’ll be poorer, but at least I won’t wonder anymore if my purse is possessed by a bracelet-eating spirit who is trying to drive me insane.