Toes on the Beach ~ A Different Experience

A few weeks ago, I wrote about wearing sandals to the Fringe festival.  I was in drab, with painted toenails.  I walked around DC for quite a while, and noted people's reactions, or lack thereof.  Almost universally, it was the latter.

Labour Day weekend, I went to the beach for a day, again in drab and shorts and sandals and my pedicure from a few weeks ago, which is holding up quite nicely.

From where I live, a trip to the beach is, at best, a 3-1/2 hour drive.  A day is enough for me; I can tolerate an overnight because it lets me watch the sunset/sunrise over the water.  Budget being what it is, I decided a day was enough time to enjoy a walk on the sand and a wander through town.

My Sunday was pretty much: long drive, walk through town, walk on the beach, wait out some thunderstorms, walk back through town to feed the parking meter, walk back to the beach (I had to park about a half-mile from the water), walk in the sand and around parts of the town I'd missed (window shopping, mostly), then back to the car.  There was a dinner stop on the way home, not far from the beach, then that long drive home.

There were a lot of people in the town, beach, restaurant.  When I got home, I realised I didn't look to see if anyone pulled a face (good or bad), or even noticed my toes.

I guess I'm still on that path towards "I don't care."  Which, I hope, is my destination.

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