We're back from the beach. It was a nice break from the normal routine. I couldn't even get on-line, which served as a good break from the blog. (I actually did sneak a quick peak from Atlanta Bread Company one morning.) Instead I got to spend an insane amount of time with my family and read and swim in the ocean and watch a couple of DVDs. It was good.
I've talked about the ocean on this blog before and the strange pull it has on me, the strange fascination it holds for me. It never fails to impress me. I suppose it's a lot like looking out at the stars and realizing the sheer expanse of it. But the cosmos is too big a thing for me. I can't even begin to understand its bigness and therefore fail to appreciate my smallness in relation to it. The ocean is somewhat more thinkable in that I can reach out and touch it. It has a physicality that I can feel. It has distance to it that, while I cannot see across it, I know there are people who live across it. I talk to them. They are friends and cousins. So there is distance that is quantifiable - none of this 10 to the 100th power or what not. I can't get my mind around $1,000,000,000, how am I supposed to be able to get such a huge quantity? It might as well be infinite.
All that to say that the ocean is pretty sweet. And the sweetest thing about it is watching my children fall in love with it. I watch them giggle and sing and dance and play in the surf. I watch them tentatively explore the power of the tide and discover shells and small sea mollusks. I race with them to build sand castles before Will or Avery destroys them. We draw pictures in the sand. We write our names. We make friends on the beach who we see each day. We attempt to get to the pier several times, but it is too far for the smaller ones.
I had a beer with my pizza one night, which was nice. You can't buy the stuff in the county in which I live. I know that sounds pretty funny, but it's true. (Digression: Recently, as I was about to get on the highway to come home, I stopped at a gas station to get some drinks [non-adult beverages] for the kids. At the front counter of the gas station was a magazine called "High Times" - with information on how to grow your own marijuana. Interesting that they can sell such a magazine. Interesting that they can sell such a magazine in a county where I cannot buy a beer.)
Anyway, the trip was refreshing, though short. The ocean is a good place.