Friday, August 21, 2009

Bye Bye Beach

This morning after sleeping in, swimming in the hotel pool, and watching cartoons on channels we’re too cheap to pay for at home, we headed back to the beach. There was a tiny worn path between the hotel and the waves, probably a quarter mile long. And it was a deceitful little path! As we walked we could hear the ocean loud and clear but with each rise we crested, there would be nothing but bushes, sand, and grasses meeting our eyes. Until FINALLY.

More playing in the waves, amazing Kodak moments. And then I find later I’ve got my camera set on Not The Right Setting and few if any look good. Still, we made memories, right? We did, we did but sometimes I think my memories ARE pictures. When I remember events of the past I often see the photos in my mind. And have you ever wondered how many photos you’re in, in other people’s homes, who have no idea who you are? You happened to be walking by during a shot at Disneyland. Or anywhere for that matter. I would be surprised to find that anyone thinks about pictures the way I do. Hopeless when I haven’t got the right shot, ecstatic when it all comes together in one 4x6 slick. Whatever, I took plenty yesterday.

So we’re there and I set up my folding chair to watch the kids but every few minutes I found myself hauling it back several feet along with an array of flip flops, wet and sandy shirts, and trowels. Mostly I was walking around taking (bad) photos and at one point I looked to see the waves overtaking our things. I ran to save the things these waves could take (all of which could be replaced for under $20) and as I bend down, *PLOP!*, my iPhone is submerged. And I am very, very sad. Because, well, you know, I ♥ my iPhone.

I plucked it out of the briny shallows and popped it out of its case. Dried it up but knew it was a lost cause. I’d heard way too many *PLOP!* stories. I turned it on and glory be, it worked! I said a quick prayer and let out a long sigh of relief. But then Michael called. And I couldn’t hear a thing. The phone seemed to be working under the impression that my headphones were plugged in. Did I get water in that headphone hole? Yes siree. So now I was stuck with a glorified iTouch. I had to text Michael to make my phone calls. How long could he happily do that? I’ll give you a hint: It’s a negative number.

We left around noon and as we drove out of the hotel parking lot Michael Jr. turned to me (this has been his first trip *ever* riding in the front seat) and said, “Everything is twice as expensive here as it is at home”. A block later I looked across the street at a strip mall and saw a $2 Store. I didn’t know there was any such thing but I guess that proves his point.

The trip home was filled with strange conversations as usual. At one point the kids began discussing mollusks. Michael Jr. told the younger ones that if a snail could reach, they could reproduce with themselves. I stopped and stared, as I often do. He said it with such clinical sterility; nothing hilarious about it to him! Kenny thought that was great and they all discussed what it would be like if, like snails, male and female humans could each get pregnant. I never considered how much double the trouble that would be, but leave it to my kids to sort that out.

On the way home I scanned the gazillions of blackberry bushes I saw for signs of (black) life and sure enough there were plenty ripe. After cleaning out the car (arguably The Worst part of a trip to The Beach) I took off on Mom’s bike to see what I could pick. I found a bunch on 148th along the Pettit’s field and picked and picked. I’d forgotten how lame these berries are. I mean I knew they were nothing like the tiny, delicious wild black raspberries I hunted in the woods last month but honestly, these Himalayans are garbage berries. They are sweet but essentially flavorless. And those monstrous seeds? Grab the floss; you’re gonna need it. I picked several inspite of myself—I figured I could make a little something for the kids—but before I picked enough for anything I found myself face to face with a ginormous spider. That was that. I put it in my bucket and pedaled back home.
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1 comment:

  1. All and I mean ALL of my honeymoon shots were taken on a POS dying camera. The result? We look like we've been suspended into a vat of Vasoline. All soft focus all the time.


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