I traded one beach town for another. Guess that makes me South Beach Betty (for a few days, anyway). And just in time to catch the tail end of holiday spirit twinkling in the palm trees. So much for the slushy remains of white Christmas in New England — white here pertains only to sand. And to white jeans and flip-flops (
sequined flip-flops) in the evenings. And to the blinding white light of early morning on the beach, where scattered joggers who didn't stay up/out too late last night thump along the sand past all those cool, colorful lifeguard stations that I always forget about 'til I get here ... then I enjoy each one all over again
. Especially the way each one is different despite being the same in essential purpose, and such a
critical purpose. Kind of like the days. And nights. And not just on vacation. How to make each one bright and different, and full of
purpose, even when they're more or less the same. That's the trick ... isn't it?? Hmmm. I think I'll sit right down on one of these warm, stylin' park benches — so unlike the staid, black, metallic versions at home — and think about that. Or maybe I'll squawk about it ...
I traded one beach town for another. Guess that makes me South Beach Betty (for a few days, anyway). And just in time to catch the tail end of holiday spirit twinkling in the palm trees. So much for the slushy remains of white Christmas in New England — white here pertains only to sand. And to white jeans and flip-flops (sequined flip-flops) in the evenings. And to the blinding white light of early morning on the beach, where scattered joggers who didn't stay up/out too late last night thump along the sand past all those cool, colorful lifeguard stations that I always forget about 'til I get here ... then I enjoy each one all over again. Especially the way each one is different despite being the same in essential purpose, and such a critical purpose. Kind of like the days. And nights. And not just on vacation. How to make each one bright and different, and full of purpose, even when they're more or less the same. That's the trick ... isn't it?? Hmmm. I think I'll sit right down on one of these warm, stylin' park benches — so unlike the staid, black, metallic versions at home — and think about that. Or maybe I'll squawk about it ...
