LIFE'S A BEACH!

here's one of my fav sunset pics .. frrom our campground that i won't see again till late March maybe?

So, SO scary!!!! It listed so fast there was no time for the life boats to be used! I think most were at dinner which is what saved them. Still 17 missing I think. Oh dear God!!!

It was a good thing the ship was so close to shore..anyone who could swim could get to shore if they could get off the ship....but I think figuring out which way was up would have been a challenge..and then finding a spot to jump off...maybe instead of having the life vests in the rooms, they should have them scattered all over the ship..the life boats didn't look too available..

The last carnival cruise ship I was on did not have an emergency drill untill the third day on the ship.

My experience has been the emergency drill before we even left the protected sea port!

I stopped by the beach on the way to see my Opthamologist...not many people there today

..and I had the beach to myself....Chrissy, do you remember when you were here in San Diego

and I drove you out to the end of this point??

Chabba, wow she's beautiful. 

Lisa is this a beach you can drive on?

Gone for a while during the holidays helping DD with new GB. Missing them... but glad to see you guys and all the great pic's.

Lisa, just wondering because it kinda looks like Daytona Beach.

That is the Del Coronado Hotel in the background

and way in the background is Mexico

Sad picture, unusal on the beach.

UP, UP AND AWAY

No, that was in New York State at the NY Annual Balloon Festival..

Chaba:  Received this from a friend today who lives in Newport, OR.  Written by Drew Myron.  Based on your pictures, you must be closer to Washington since I read about the snow there.  Thought everyone might enjoy this since the author lives "on" the sea, & winter in the NW Coast can be a challenge.

Living between forest and sea, I have one eye to the wind and the other to water. I live in a remote small town tucked against a temperate rainforest that sees over 70 inches of rain each year. It is habit now to search for water's sneaky mark, along each seam and crevice, every window and door.

On this rugged shore, I am shaped by landscape, sculpted by the harsh practicalities of living on water's moody rim. I am living on edge, against a churning sea. Even my dreams are water-logged. I am wading, flooded, soaked. Everywhere leak and loss.

For the last 12 hours, I am braced against a steady storm. A frenzied mix of drenching rain and 100 mile per hour winds have toppled trees, turned trucks, closed roads, pounded doors and rattled glass. All night, windows heave, and tree limbs knock and pop against the house.

This morning I wake, blearied and headached, to the same soaking rain. Lights flicker and tease. Several hours into morning, there is no hope of sun and little light, just a dark gray sky a shade brighter than night.

And yet, and yet. The storm will pass, as they always do. The rain will cease. Beauty will return, brilliant enough to make me ache. The forever ocean. A forest so green and lush it seems make-believe. The trees here touch sky, touch something in me endless and tender.

There is tension in this chasm, a beautiful contradiction that urges introspection, expression, words. I am dry and safe, and shaped - very shaped - by this place.