Yesterday we (meaning “I”) took a break from the cleaning and the baking and the stressing out about the long to-do list, and went to the beach (that’s where the “we” part comes in…”I” clean, “I” bake, “I” stress, but “we” go to the beach).

Don’t let the bathing suits fool you – the water was cold.  And the air was chillier at the beach than at my house.  I was glad to have a sweater, and I was glad when the sun wasn’t hiding behind the clouds.  But, still, December 22nd and the shoreline temps around 70 degrees were nothing to complain about.

And a cold day at the beach is better than a nice day stuck indoors scrubbing baseboards.

I managed to convince two friends to also neglect their pre-Christmas preparations for a few hours to come along.  It took them a long time to make up their minds and decide to go – maybe 20 or 30 seconds.

No matter how long we stay at the beach – 2 hours or 10 – my children are not at all happy when I say it is time to go.  Mary refused to get in this picture because she was so mad.

My kids grumped all the way to the car, and when my girlfriend asked if they had had a good time, they all said various unpleasant things (no, tell me how you really feel…).  But by dinnertime, when asked, unanimously agreed they had thoroughly enjoyed the day.

Fortunately for them, Bill did receive confirmation yesterday that we are “definitely” moving to Tampa in March (as “definitely” as the Army lets you get).  So trips to the beach – the warm, sunny, go-there-in-the-winter beach – will continue to be a regular part of their lives.

{Side note: I did once go to the “beach” in Maine in December.  Very different experience: it was so cold that being outside for more than a half hour was unpleasant.  But the violent sea crashing on the rocks and the wind, “like a whetted knife“, slicing through every layer of clothing was an exhilarating moment.}