Friends from New York came for a visit yesterday. It was great to see them, and my daughter got to spend time with her best friend. We showed them the house, had lunch, and went to the beach. There’s something magical about the water. It erases all my stress in an instant.
Does the beach do that for you too?
We drove over to the beach closest to our house, and because it’s a little place on the bay, we were the only people there. The kids waded in the water while we walked, picked shells, and solved life’s problems.
Not really, but when I’m at the beach, solving problems seems easier. In fact, problems don’t even seem so big.
As we approached a jetty of rocks, we heard a small, sweet voice say, “Hello. We’re over here crabbing.”
My friend and I looked at each other and looked around. It was as if there was a ghost crabber speaking to us. Then we saw a small hand lift in the air and wave. On the other side of the rocks was a woman and her black Lab, Chester. This dog was sitting in the water, his head tilted down, and his eyes scanning for any sign of movement. Chester was the crabber. The woman was just sitting in the sand enjoying her dog, who would sit in the water and wait for a crab for hours. I’ve never seen a crabbing dog before, but it was pretty cool. If I had a dog, I would want one who crabs.
Chester’s owner turned out to be a local artist. She filled me in on the all the good places to visit, the places tourist guides don’t tell you about, and then she warned me not to tell anyone else about them. I can’t really blame her. Ninety percent of the cars I see on the roads are vacationers. There’s an onslaught of Yankee tourists in these parts. I think the locals must get a bit overwhelmed, or overrun, depending on how you look at things.
She told me she divulged her secret spots to me because she liked my glasses and my green Walmart t-shirt. She said I was like a breath of fresh air.
If you had been in my house at eight o’clock yesterday morning, you would have choked on your coffee after hearing me likened to a breath of fresh air. I was like a tropical storm moving from room to room, a black cloud of grumpiness hanging low.
I bickered with my husband and fussed at my kids. I planted myself in a far corner of the couch, crossed my arms over my chest, and glared…at anyone who dare look my way. I was tired, and I had a bad attitude.
You see, I have problems waking up in the morning. I am in no way a morning person. Several of you are already shaking your heads at me, thinking of those wonderful quiet moments before the sun rises, but I have real problems shaking off the early funk. Plenty of coffee is needed, except I’m not drinking much coffee down here in Virginia, because it’s hot. I’m not even a bit accustomed to the heat and humidity, so I sip a little hot coffee and pour the rest down the drain.
Sitting in my dismal corner of the couch, I realized my problem was mostly a lack of caffeine. That’s when I pulled a can of Pepsi Max out of the pantry and poured the soda into a glass full of ice.
Don’t judge, or go ahead and judge…whatever. This was a desperate moment in my life, and I had to choose between a ferocious funk or a can of caffeinated sugar-water. I chose the Max.
Half a can later, the funk lifted and my whole attitude changed. I think that indicates a caffeine addiction on my part, but I don’t have time for a weekly support group right now.
I’m making the switch to iced-coffee, as of this morning. I don’t think I’ll ever be a morning person, but the rooster next door is sure trying to change my mind.
I’m glad our friends were able to visit, and I sure hope I see the artist and her crabbing dog again. They were truly a breath of fresh air. I bet she and Chester are even morning people.
How about you? Do you like mornings??
(Can anyone really like mornings?!?)