Our first entire day in So. Cal. HAD to be spent at the ocean. Mom and Dad led us to a secluded beach across from the Montage Resort to gently initiate us into the experience (as seen in the view posted previously 
Amber and Roger tentatively waded out, while I found a sunny spot to brown my skin. I'm NOT a swimmer. At most, I'm a flounderer. More of a sinker. And an astute panicker. I have no interest in putting myself thru any further humiliation in order to overcome this fault. I remember being forced at the age of 13 to take swimming lessons. They finally gave me a "Poliwog" certificate, just to get rid of me. When I was a baby, I used to scream when my mother would get water on my face. Scream to the point that my digestive system would revolt, causing me to vomit in the bathtub. After seeing Amber pick sand out of her swim bottoms for the umpteenth time, I knew she had forgotten that with the fun of big waves come the not-so-fun sand. She was amazed at the sheer volume of sand and salt that was in her hair, her suit, her everywhere. When we returned to the hotel, we washed gobs of sand out of her bikini. She must have showered for an hour. After a thorough de-sanding, we finally met up with the parental units in Dana Point for much needed dinner (and drinks) at
1 comment:
Great photos of the Amber bug!! I remember all that lovely sand in everything after a day at the beach!
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