I was feeling like I had so much grunge in my life, so much wasted time.
I've heard it said that the tears in Heaven won't be from loss or pain, but from wasted opportunities. I think about that alot.
In my business I have found that it's easiest to explain my leaving town and closing shop if I do it when it's 'predictable'. Meaning an obvious, as in, National, holiday. Otherwise I find that I'm forever explaining and even justifying my absence. Or even trying to prepare my clients for my un-foreseen disappearance when they might not get their special pants hemmed right away.
I struggled with finding just the right place...there were so many variables. Do you ever come across that?
Trying to decode the pages on AAA.com, or when you're thrown all of the possible amenities, to distill it down, the needs from the wants. Who knew that was possible?
I'm not in the habit of planning to stay at resorts.
The two amenities I found that I must have are; wheelchair access and a private sorta-West-facing balcony. Everything else was nice/extra/immaterial. When it came to price, my policy is always "it costs what it costs".
I'm not going to scrimp or break the bank. However, if you want to spend less that $100.00 a night apparently, you'll get a really nice concrete cube in the middle of a asphalt parking lot.
Not really what I had in mind.
In the end, leaving for a moment for a quiet prayer, I was satisfied with the choice.
In fact we were given a spectacular up-grade.
We stayed at the Tamarack Hotel and Beach Resort. Right on the ocean, right across the street from the beach.
We had breakfast provided. Hot coffee all day. Huge king-sized bed.
Both Mom and I found ourselves out there on the balcony in our P.J.'s morning and night.
It was so pleasant in the early hours before dawn.
Hot cup of coffee, watching the sun just starting to glint on the ocean far out to sea.
And the sunsets...! what is there to say?
It's a local thing, it seems, to stop whatever you are doing and just stand and watch that old sun sink into the waves.
People lined the sidewalk fence, all down the street. Some were even filming the process.
Actually it was kinda spooky, like a pagan rite, this freeze-tag with the sun.
Still, we enjoyed the sight from our own little world.
In fact, I thought that some peer-pressure was involved; some surfers wouldn't attempt to surf a wave unless another better surfer thought it was worth a try. hmmm
Both mornings I got up as soon as I was awake and walked down to the ramp to the water.
The sun had not yet broken the hills behind me, so the sand was still damp and cold.
I bundled up with my Knittery hat and a hoodie, and parked myself and Mr. Darby on a small sand dune. Remembering my purpose for coming, I read the first chapters of Nehemiah... especially pondering the lament of Judah in 4:10,
"The strength of the bearers of burdens faileth, and there is so much rubbish; so that we are not able to build at the wall."
Do you ever feel like that? That you're wading through so much extra-curricular junk in your life that the wall of separation might get repaired if you could only get next to it?
It was a marvel to watch the sun kiss the waves far off to the South first, then slowly, brightly, glimmer on the breakers nearer and nearer.
I would then slowly climb the ramp back up to the Hotel, to go get us breakfast at the buffet.
Mom would usually wave to me from the balcony as I got close. Eventually then, we would pack her and her kintting into the wheelchair and we would get her to the view-point above the beach.
Here she's happily knitting a sweater for Suki.
We'd forgotten to bring a visor for her, so I picked this one up at the surf shop.
I then walked down to the beach again, and walked about a mile up & back.
Then I just comfortably sat in the sand and watched the surfers try to pick the perfect wave(?) until it was time for us to go get dressed for our Afternoon Tea at the Hyatt in Carlsbad, where we would meet up with Marie and Wendy Woehl. Altogether a wonderfully relaxing weekend.
I'm thinking this should be an annual event...