… to my small, sandy corner of the blogosphere, I’m so glad you’re here! My name is Laura and I’m a writer, runner, reader, mom of two awesome boys in their 20’s, wife of Bob, aka, my best friend, for 28 years, Disney lover, and journaling addict.
I’m also a former non-beach person.
See, here’s the thing,
For most of my life, I viewed true beach people as those who turn into barefoot sun-kissed free spirits once they arrive in any seaside town. They pack lightly for a day on the beach, needing only need a towel, small bag, and a cooler full of their beverage of choice. Saltwater never stings their eyes, their umbrellas never wobble in the wind, and sand on their towels never bother them.
And most of all … they belong.
Me? Not so much.
I was a pale worrywart who always over-packed for a day on the beach, always that person trying to haul a too-heavy in a cart with wheels that got stuck in the sand. Saltwater stung my eyes, our umbrella always wobbled dangerously in the wind despite how many YouTube tutorials I watched, and I loathed sand on my beach towels.
And most of all … I never felt like I belonged at the beach. I was the awkward, frizzy-haired outsider who was never comfortable enough in my own skin to fully relax. I just never felt as though I fit in at Ocean City, whether it was on the beach, at happy hour, anywhere.
I tried, though. When my husband wanted to buy a small condo on our dream bayside street about twenty-two-years ago, I agreed, hoping I’d eventually belong.
That didn’t exactly work out and once our boys became too busy with travel sports causing our trips to be less and less frequent, I suggested we sell the condo.
(Colossal mistake financially since that area has since tripled in value. But that’s a story for a different day.)
So needless to say, when my husband wanted to buy a fixer upper on that same dream street five years ago … and by that, I mean a total disaster wreck of a house with mold damage, structural issues, and missing ceilings … I was concerned.
Non-beach people don’t usually buy beach houses. And oh my gosh. The amount of work it needed was staggering! Bob saw the potential, however, so despite my fears and concerns, I agreed.
“Trust me,” he said.
I trusted him. Because I knew how talented he was as a contractor … and I still desperately wanted to be a beach person.
And you know what? He was right.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a pale, UVA dodging worrywart who doesn’t like sand on my towels. Saltwater nearly blinds me so I rarely swim in the ocean. Our umbrellas do no longer wobble thanks to the quality ones we invested in, but I’m still notorious for packing way too much for a day on the beach and I’ve yet to feel fully comfortable in my own skin.
But here’s the thing: There are no requirements for being a beach person.
I love the beach in my own unique, fussy way and that’s all that matters.
And I’ve fallen head-over-heels in love with Ocean City, a lovely town that now feels like home to me. So I’ve decided to start this blog in order to chat about the things I love the most about OC, MD … from the typical tourist attractions to the small joys.
I also want to challenge myself to be more adventurous rather than sticking to our usual favorite activities. Like paddle board yoga. It’s been on my sand bucket list for the longest time! And maybe I’ll try yoga on the beach … although getting sand in my sports bra does worry me.
So thanks for visiting! Here’s a cyber Orange Crush from me to you in gratitude and I hope you’ll stick around for a while!
