beach « With Care

Vacation Manifesto.

I celebrated the 4th day of July by relaxing on the beach with some of my ladyfriends. I’m not a beach bunny by any means but the idea of living in a place where a drive to the sea shore takes more than an hour (including traffic!) makes me feel a little dubious as to the true quality of life in said area. Why would I want to let such a gross season pass without the occasional fun of being pummeled in submission by a relentless march of waves, washed up on the shore, and then dried out into a crispy, sandy humanoid form with un-comb-able hair? I look pretty cute in my new swimsuit from Esther Williams (a company with a good, US-made product that I support fully!) but let’s not forget about the secret, smugglin’ nature of the one piece: you will come home with a tidepool’s worth of treats stuck to your stomach. Now there’s a day well spent.

So, yesterday, after the requisite pummeling, washing, drying, and not combing, I thought to myself, “Whoa. What is this weird feeling come over my body?” Oh. I think it’s… relaxation.

I’m so rarely relaxed. Even when I tell myself that I am, I am still floating 3 inches above my chair- buffered by a constant tension of ideas, obligations, shoulda-coulda-wouldas and lots of guilt.

So, when I identified the strange state that had overtaken my body, I wanted to be in it forever- all warm and floppy muscled. But how? How do I tell myself, “CUT THE CRAP, NOVAK!” ? How do I compromise my ambition with a season that takes away all of my heartiness and ability- even with air conditioning!?

It’s vacating time, chumps!!!

With this, I declare a priority placed on relaxation. Lying, loafing, reading, swimming, eating, drinking, and casual shit-talking are now being moved into the forefront of my intentions. Well, after I edit some Etsy photos, throw up some listings, line up some ads, and post some more photos of olde timey bathers.

But, after all that: VACATION!

Which will, hopefully, make me feel like this:

Swimming Horses and Other Summertime Fun.

It seems like just yesterday I was complaining about the cold and now, suddenly, I am complaining about the heat.

My friends from hotter climes tell me that a key to living with elevated temperatures is to start “moving slllllllllllllow”. But that is part of my problem. I am of a greatly impatient nature and I can’t abide the way that summer heat distorts my perception of time. I wish I could tell you about my busy past week but, in retrospect, nothing really time consuming happened. I worked. I worked out. I ate some frozen yogurt. I talked about eating some frozen yogurt. I made over $1000 of “sweetheart earrings” in one day. One of my oldest and best friends ushered his first child into the world. I went to Western Massachusetts only to find myself sick and puking- a thing that kind of heightened the surrealism of waking up in an age-old farmhouse surrounded by a whole lot of rural nothing and plenty of scenic views (as well as a 1700s grave yard, complete with headstones that just have a finger pointing upwards). Could a visit to the Chesterfield Gorge have been any more magical- there were tons of yellow butterflies flopping lazily over the riverbed that, swear to goodness, shone gold from tiny flecks of metal in its sand- if I didn’t spend most of it feeling like I was about to turn my insides into outsides at any moment?

So, maybe it isn’t the summer to blame, but my reaction to it. There are things I love that are summer specific, like swimming in natural bodies of water, growing a big old garden, and hanging around the boardwalk with an orange and vanilla ice cream cone in each hand. What New England has in natural beauty, it lacks in trashy, greasy, airbrushed-t-shirt-stand fun. But thanks to the internet, I can watch the latest season of “MTV’s Jersey Shore” and wax faux-nostalgic about summer shore fun of bygone eras. Like diving horses at the Atlantic City Steel Pier.