My nails have grown strong. My skin is sunkissed. My hair is still curly in the good and wild way that only happens at the beach. And absolutely nothing is better than being called "girls" for a week in a state where you can't shake the sand out of your shoes without whacking a senior citizen.
Chip may have fantasies about being an old duffer for six weeks every year in Arizona but my old lady fantasy involves salt water, shells and bingo so....yeah. That's going to be an ongoing conversation.
I returned to an intact family after a long nine days for them. They held it together so mama could get some sunshine and as grateful as I am, it's frozen pizza for dinner. Baked with love, though. I'm taking re-entry slowly.
Parting shots of Sanibel. Super cute and nice couple from Sweden enjoying a vacation paired with a business trip and a hope to be stranded in Florida if the Icelandic volcano blows again. They had no idea I was behind them and I was just there for the sunset. Sometimes a picture just sets itself up.
And nice retirees with mostly scary, bitey little dogs.
My thoughts now turn a little dark as I think about the region we left behind to a devastating oil spill, a spot where just 48 hours ago I was swimming and eating fresh swordfish. My sister is calling from southern Alabama and their thoughts are occupied constantly with the prospect of another assault on their coastline, this one maybe more devastating than any hurricane.
Lastly, I can't say enough about these friends of mine who put up with whims like bike riding in 90 degree heat for hotdogs. It's always fun, girls.