Dry Shoulders

Remember spur of the moment trips? I remember when Nic was up at BYU for the summer and I jumped in the car wearing Victoria's secret pajama bottoms and a Hane's white T-shirt. No bag, no toothbrush...just me and wrinkled p.j's. Things are different now that we have kids. We can't be as spurry of the momenty. But on Tuesday, my sister-in-law masterminded a beach trip and we were happy to oblige her whim. This was Jemma's first trip to the ocean and she underwent the traditional rite of passage of Dad putting little baby toes in the water and taking a picture with her name and age carved in the sand. Hmm...maybe I should have posted THAT picture!

Afton was a boogie boardin' mamasita! She couldn't get enough of it! So much more daring than I was at that age. Or um...at my current age. I was so proud of her.

Jemma was a total beach bum. She gazed at the waves and caught dorrito crumbs with the brim of her hat as I ate them above her. She nursed and napped under the umbrella. She got sand in her ears and didn't care. She is the most chill baby.

Afton: Airborne and loving it.
Roxy's next cover model.
Evan could do boy stuff and not get in trouble. He could break sticks and throw mud and test the boundaries of speed and splashiness. He could eat Chips ahoy without limit and stab things that washed up on the beach.
Something about beach towns just sets my mind abloom with mystical magic-ness. Everyday things seem interesting. Walking by a dry cleaners and seeing serious faced Asian people press clothes and wipe sweaty tendrils from thier foreheads. Walking by a beauty parlor, (yes it was a beauty parlor not a salon) with pink and turqouise hair dryers and old ladies getting their weekly poodle do. Then walking by a salon, (not a beauty parlor) and noticing men getting pedicures and men waiting to get pedicures (no women). Only in California.

I had my yearly negotiation with the ocean which includes me standing knee deep in the waves and telling the Pacific, "Don't kill me and I won't kill you". Each year I tell myself I will get in over my head and body surf. I will not be afraid of sharks and getting rolled and coughing up salt water and getting stung by jelly fish. I will. I will. I will.

I didn't. As usual, I left the ocean with wet legs and dry shoulders. Someday.

Leaving the beach we drove by this little sushi place. They had a hand written sign in magic marker that said, "Sorry we don't make change for meters". The windows were open and people were sitting on stools breathing sea air and eating slippery noodles. I don't know if it was because we were leaving (over my dead sunburned body) or what, but I wanted to go in there. I wanted it to be my regular haunt. I wanted a usual table and to know the name of the waitress and she would know I'd want water with lemon.
I think Afton knows how I feel because I had to physically pry her from the parking meter. She loves the beach as much as me. I can't wait til next time. I hope I hop on a boogie board with her and come home with wet hair.