This is the story of why I don't love the beach, and why it's ok.
This fall Andrew and I found that I had a random, unplanned chunk of days off so we booked a trip to the ocean. I had been eyeing this golf resort that had popped up on Groupon several times and lo and behold as we decided to go, a deal popped up! I was hoping that the resort would be like our beloved Sunriver Resort but at the beach. The place we stayed was nice, but it was at the beach, and therein lies the problem.
Apparently, I am not a beach person.
We got there and I realized that there was not a whole lot of shopping to be had. Blast. Our room was tucked up in the trees of an OLD resort. The resort (I use the term resort loosely) was old, but nice enough. We could easily walk to a private beach. The golf course ran right through the resort grounds. This all sounds like a recipe for success. But we had planned to stay for 4 nights. After the first night I was literally going stir-crazy. Apparently the beach involves a lot of sitting and relaxing. Generally when Campbell and I find ourselves in said "sitting and relaxing" situations, we get bonky. He played golf, which was great, in that time I: checked out every book store in town (epic failure), went to the beach, attended the farmer's market (which was in fact pirate themed that week and made for some decent people watching) and worked out. At night we watched a fair amount of football. Now I enjoy watching football with Campbell, but I enjoy watching it while I am doing something else around the house: baking, making dinner, etc. Sitting and watching the game is hard. Until the man Campbell picked for his Fantasy Football team scores a touchdown and does this fantastic little salsa number, that is NOT hard.
Here's the thing. I wanted to go home. We have literally been on the run all summer and into the fall and I felt like we had had very little time together at home. I felt like a huge jerk for wanting to be home when I could be on vacation. Who am I? Oh yes, that's right, a giant homebody who likes nothing better than downtime at home with my husband. But for some reason, I really beat myself up over this. For days. In the end we only ended up leaving one day early and had a good time in the meantime but this trip made me crazy. Being a homebody is something that I always try and talk myself out of, but deep, deep down, in the longings of my soul, I am happiest, at home. Part of this trip was learning to accept every part of who I am. Sometimes, it's hard.
We laughed a lot and thankfully, (God bless this man!), Andrew had similar feelings about the beach as I did. Not our thing. Also, I have an incredibly laid back husband who just kept laughing and saying, "Well, we learned something about ourselves." I am so thankful that he always sees the good! I'm pretty sure people thought we were nuts for not liking the beach. Oh well. ;)