Vacation

Not That Gal

Final installment of Mrs Fringe Takes a Vacation–I promise!

Much as I’d like to be, I’m not that gal. You know the one; who appreciates everything she has, cleans the toilet thinking how lucky she is to be living somewhere with indoor plumbing, and is grateful to have (reasonably) working limbs and the luxury to grocery shop when the refrigerator is empty. The one who takes a vacation and thinks, wow! I so appreciate a life where I was able to do that, what a wonderful time I had, and now I’m happy to be home.

I want to know when I can go back. Art Child and I agreed we would start a jar of coins dedicated to our next vacation. I thought about the jar of coins I already keep, the one that’s supposed to go towards Christmas presents, but usually ends up spent on a bill, or groceries, or some other necessity.

I’m the one who picks up the free real estate magazines whenever she goes anywhere, and imagines how it would be to live there. The one who spends the entire thirteen hour drive home trying to figure out how many dogs she’d have to walk to buy a little beach house. (Yah, I know, I haven’t been able to dog walk because I got all broken.) And ok, not so little, because I’m not alone. Maybe not on the beach, because insurance. And hurricanes. So, walking distance to the beach. Still in the million dollar range? Ok, reasonable driving distance. So maybe then I’d need to have a pool, because it’s hot hot hot there, and I wouldn’t want the girl to spend all her time off the beach locked in air conditioning. Who’s that knocking at my door–Reality?

Fuck you, Reality, I’m not ready to end my fling with Fantasy. Talk to me next week.

Oh, the beach houses, which one would I choose?

Lovely, but too fancy.

This could work.

How about this little one?

We have a winner.

Every day should begin like this.

The picture of a promise.

View from the apartment we stayed in.

Yes, please.

My toes are tingling.

This was one of my favorite parts of the vacation. A washer and dryer IN the apartment! Mundane but true.

I could spend hours looking at the patterns left in the wet sand by the waves.

I may print this one.

Yes.

The dark clouds felt just right for my last morning on the beach.

Isn’t She Lovely?

Every time we’ve gone to Hilton Head in the past, I’ve said I wanted to visit Savannah, but we never did. Much as I wanted to check it out, I could never quite get myself to leave the beach once we were there. Somehow the thought of walking a city in 100+ degree heat with 90% humidity loses it’s charm when you’re feeling a perfect ocean breeze. However, this summer has been less brutal than usual up and down the east coast, I wanted to do at least a couple of things Nerd Child would enjoy (the other was the boat ride) and one of my godsons now lives there, so the timing was perfect.

Because I live practically in the shadow of the George Washington Bridge, it takes a lot for me to note a bridge as impressive. This one is–what an angle!

Every bit as beautiful as it appears in the movies, Savannah didn’t disappoint. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any photos of the streets that are completely canopied by those live oaks. We drove down several when we first arrived, but we were running late (for some reason I thought it was under 40 minutes away from HH, but it’s over an hour), so I thought I’d take those photos once we were walking around with Mr Chic (my godson) and Ms Beauty (his bff and roommate). Turns out the whole city isn’t filled with those canopies, oops. We spent the majority of our time on River Street. I know, I know, tourist trap–I loved it anyway. How can I not adore a city filled with the history and architecture I love from New England, but with the pace and weather of the South. Plus it’s perfectly appropriate to wear ridiculous hats without being a lady who lunches.

Mr Chic eyed my cane, and Mother-In-Law’s cane, before we set out, and warned us that it would be a lot of walking. Pfft, I’m a New Yorker, of course I’m up for it! Maybe not. By the time we reached the end of River Street, we were done, and absolutely couldn’t make it back to the car.

Of course I did get several shots of the oaks!

Beautiful “squares” sprinkled throughout the city, makes it feel like a movie set.

Great for photos, but I took the ramp meant for cars.

What my imagination could do with these alleyways!

Layers and layers and layers.

Fabulous narrow terraces, Husband and I were struck by the wooden floorboards.

Did these keep you safe from…anything?

Seemed like everyone but us was strolling River Street with drinks in hand.

Now these are cobblestones!

quite a few of these hidden stairways.

You’re Gonna Need a Bigger Boat

It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t spend one post touching on some of the critters to be found in the ocean and on the island. Born and bred a city gal the thought of a bear, or a mountain lion, or even a deer, terrifies me. But because I’m a reefer, let me glimpse a few sea critters and I’m all in.

So much more polite than the gulls in NY 😉

aah yes, the early morning prospectors–what are they looking for?

Fall in line, boys!

Lots of sunrise fishing

Love the flowers that pop up on the dunes.

look close!

One afternoon we took a 2 hour boat tour of the waterways surrounding the island. One of the things I love about this area is the proximity of the dolphins. While it didn’t happen this trip, there have been times where we were at the beach and there were dolphins swimming a hundred feet from us.

oyster beds all along the waterway.

We did spot several dolphins close to the boat, but I wasn’t able to get any great shots. Honestly, I quickly gave up and just enjoyed watching them.

sorry, this is as good as I got.

One morning on my sunrise stroll, a woman came running up to warn me, “someone dumped a garbage can over there, and there’s some kind of sea creature! You’re barefoot, and it has tentacles, be careful!!” She was genuinely frightened, and I, of course, went running straight towards it.

Is it the creature from the black lagoon?

bwahahaha, a not so scary at all horseshoe crab.

I was a little disappointed, I had visions of something a-maz-ing. Southern octopus? Sea turtle nest in a strange spot? Or maybe a shark that I could have rescued and sent back to the water.

Jelly, and yes, I was stung by one of these guys our first day there. Not the first time, and I’m certain not the last.

So fast, very hard to catch a shot that wasn’t a complete blur.

Beautiful, but not as serene as we pretend it is.

Later on the same day of finding the horseshoe crab, I was back on the beach with Husband. Art Child was tired, and had stayed in the apartment with the boys. When I said good morning to the guy renting beach chairs, I laughed and told him about the crab, and how I had imagined it would be a shark. The water was a little rough that morning, so I didn’t go out too far. Next thing I know, beach chair guy shows himself to be a lifeguard, calling everyone out of the water. He had spotted a shark–closer to the shore than I had been– said it was the largest one he had ever seen in this area, and kept everyone out of the water for at least half an hour. How freaking cool is that? But I admit, I spent the rest of the morning at the pool.

Saggy Bits

Walking Sticks and Flip-Flops

Installment #2 of Mrs Fringe Takes a Vacation.

You might be wondering a couple of things. For example, was I inspired to do any writing while admiring the beauty and sunrises of the beach? No. I wasn’t, and I didn’t. On our first full day there, I found a rejection in my email that referenced the agent’s “enjoyment of and obvious strengths of” my work. I spent about 43 seconds stomping my foot–if it’s so obviously strong….I’ll likely have another seven years to obsess about my words and lack of publication before I’ll be back on that beach. Thankfully, the sand doesn’t make for satisfying stomping ground, and so I let it go to enjoy where I was.

The second, obvious question; what did that shameless hussy who goes by the name of Mrs Fringe wear on the beach? For my sunrise photography sessions, I wore my 8000 year old workout clothes. Mostly because I’d get up, have coffee, do my yoga, and head straight out. The rest of the time? Bikinis all the way. That’s right, I’m a 40,000 year old woman with three grown and close to grown children wearing the effects of gravity like a sarong. My concession to a body that nursed three babies for a grand total of 58,000 years is to make sure the top has an underwire.

I’ve talked a lot about my love of my Brooklyn beach, and this is much of it. On that beach you find women of all ages, shapes, sizes, and fitness wearing their bikinis without a thought to what anyone else might or might not think, before they put their tent-resembling chintz house dresses back on and unfold their walkers to go purchase a pound of ground chuck for dinner. Somewhere in there is a lesson on feminism, accepting who we are at all stages.

I try to care. I even went shopping before we left and bought a conservative tankini, very pretty. The tags are still on it. Instead, I went shopping again while we were on the island, and bought another bikini. I wasn’t sure about it, thought the design might be a little “young” for me, so I walked out of the dressing room to get an opinion. There was a woman standing there, about my age, who misinterpreted what I was asking and told me I should buy it, she’d absolutely wear a bikini if she could pull it off. She proceeded to call her 85 year old mother out of a dressing room to look at me so she could agree. I’m fairly certain her mom couldn’t actually hear a word of what was said, but she smiled and nodded. Then the woman called her teenaged daughter out of her dressing room to add to the vote. Hah! The girl popped her head out, politely tried to cover her horror with a twitchy grin, and slammed herself back into her cubicle. Naturally, I bought it ($12!), and wore it the rest of the time we were on the island. To my dressing room buddy: You can pull it off. If you want to do so, wear a bikini. It’s that simple.

The tide goes in and out four times (high tide twice, low tide twice) each day on Hilton Head, with a huge difference between high and low. This means that during low tides, yes there are lovely, warm little tidal pools that are the equivalent of natural sea baby pools, but it also means there’s plenty of width and time to walk (or wheel, for those using wheelchairs) to the shoreline on sand that’s firmly packed, leaving stable ground beneath you. Why mention this? So you can picture how easily Mother-In-Law and I left our canes along with flip-flops and towels in the narrow stretch of soft sand so we could go swimming.

Today’s photos are mixed, a couple of sunrises with some late morning shots sprinkled in.

Path between the apartment complex and the beach.

Sea oats

flip-flops on, off, who cares?

Trash on the beach is terrible, yet there’s beauty in there.

Bristle worm

I was far from the only one in the water at sunrise, I think I fell in love with this woman.

Can you feel it?

Those beach morning glories from yesterday? A late morning shot.

why choose to get up at 5am on vacation? This is why.

Beach patrol, out every morning at sunrise to pick up trash left behind and blown in.

a little more

almost there

lost for a second

perfect new day.

Where Ya Been, Mrs Freckle Fringe?

After much agonizing and whining, I booked a vacation. So yes, Fringeland moved south for a week, and I’m now back on the terrace. This will be the first of several posts about, and pictures of, our trip. I didn’t post about it beforehand because of weirdness. First of all, it had been so long since we took a vacation, all I did was stress about it. Second, right after we booked it, obviously, the girl started to not do so well, so…more stress. Packing up for a road trip to a beach break is simple, right? A few bikinis, a few towels, comfy traveling clothes, and you’re done. Not in Fringeland. We don’t go out often, and we vacation much less often, so when we’re away, I like to have some nice clothes for going out, and all the makeup I generally don’t wear, and the hair dryer and the straightening iron that I don’t end up using, and no less than four anti-frizz products to keep my hair weighed down in the humidity and breezes. Then there’s an entire small suitcase of meds for Husband and the girl. Yes, I want the comfy traveling clothes, but I also want to look decent, just in case. My version of “wear good underwear in case you get into an accident” is wear decent clothes in case the car breaks down, or someone gets sick and I end up needing to meet strange doctors in a strange hospital, or or or. See what I mean? Stress! Sure it’s self inflicted, but I can’t help it, goes with the whole vivid imagination thing. And maybe a dash of experience.

Man Child wasn’t able to come with us, but we were still a crowded vehicle; me, Husband, Art Child, Nerd Child, one of my godsons (Mr Goodheart), Mother-In-Law, and all our assorted crapola. We didn’t bring Little Incredibly Dumb Dog, because I didn’t book said vacation early enough, and all the affordable places within walking distance to the beach that were pet friendly were booked. A huge, huge thank you to El Fab for taking care of my little beast, the container garden, AND the tank. I literally took thousands of pictures while we were gone, it’s going to take a bit to sort through them all. My intention was to blog and post pics while away, but once we were there, I just didn’t want to. Sorry! So I’ll break up my pics and stories into a few posts, and put them up here as I sort them. In other words, warning: the next few Mrs Fringe posts will be photo intensive. Maybe by the time I’ve finished I’ll have stopped sobbing because I want to go back and stay there–but I doubt it!

While on the road, we always stay in low-budget motels, whenever/wherever we are when we just have to crash. Gives us a little more leeway while we’re actually at our destination, and it seems like a waste of funds to spend more on a room you’re literally only going to sleep in. On the way down, we stayed in what must have been the worst (though not the least expensive) motel we’ve ever stayed in. The manager was friendly and chatty, though. He generously offered to give me a tea bag from his personal kitchen, asked Husband “is that a Mexican name?” (all Latino names = Mexican, right? sometimes, and sometimes Dominican, Spaniard, Puerto Rican, South American…), and while I was telling our crew to get out of the car and unload, he proceeded to tell Husband about the woman who had walked in behind us–as she was standing there–how she asked to see a room, used the bathroom while she was in said “clean” room, and was menstruating and now he had to clean up blood. Thanks for sharing a bit of your life, buddy!

And now, pics from this too-grossly-funny to be believed motel, and the first morning on the beach.

Dinner?

Pets were allowed

Anyone care for a yellow, crusty washcloth? I bet no one steals their linens.

Yesssss, going over the bridge to the island.

I wouldn’t mind one of these.

Even looks like a sigh of relief.

Though the island is only about 13 hours from where we live, and we planned to break it up into two days of traveling, we hit every traffic jam possible (seriously–at our first coffee and pee break, we tried to get back on the highway and it was completely shut down because of an accident) and so didn’t arrive until early evening of the second day.