4th of July in Pismo

I awoke in the wee hours of the morning on Friday feeling like something had torn my throat to shreds.  In a daze, I found a coughdrop and a glass of water and slept fitfully the rest of the night.  When the sun rose, I had a fever and my whole body was in so much pain I though for sure I was dying.  I called in to the school to let them know that I wouldn't make my clinic hours that morning (when the hell am I supposed to make that up?!) and tried to rest before Chris came home at noon.

Before he left for work on Friday, he asked me to be packed and ready to leave for the beach before he got back so we could head out as early as possible, but I was so sick that after a miserable shower, I fell onto the bed with chills and let tears stream down my cheeks until he got home.  Chris brought me medicine and begged for me to go to the coast anyway, promising that the cool air would be more pleasant than Fresno, even if all I did was rest the whole time.  It was a huge and painful effort, but eventually I was in the car.  It was miserable almost the whole way there.

But, at some point, the worst passed and the drugs kicked in and I felt a lot better.  We arrived at the hotel that was right on the beach.  There were some problems checking in, but it got straightened away and we got up to our giant room.  I had a king size bed, couches, a recliner, fridge, flat-screen TV, and the ocean staring in the window.  The place was booked, and most of the guests are those that have been coming for years.  The family below my in-law's room has been reserving that same room on the 4th of July weekend for 30 years!  Almost every door and window was decorated for the holiday by the guests, and tailgates were backed up to doors for BBQing. That night, Chris and I walked around downtown Pismo and then returned to his mom's room (which ended up being shared with his step-dad's two daughters and their significant others sleeping on the living room floor,) to people-watch for awhile.  I went off to sleep early, awaking only to listen to waves crashing on the shore.

We ate most of our meals in my mother-in-laws room; they had a little kitchen and had gone grocery shopping early on.  On Saturday morning as we ate breakfast, we gazed out at the beach and watch as startling amounts of people headed out with umbrellas and tents to claim their spot, and it only got more crowded as the day went on.  I had never seen so many people on Pismo Beach!  I was grateful that we were within walking distance to everything and I didn't have to try and drive in that crowd!  Mid-morning, we joined the beach-goers, set up our canopy and chairs, took our ice chest and entertainment, and spent most of the day on the beach.  I rolled up my jeans so that Chris and I could walk in the water's edge and play frisbee on the beach.  It was fun.

Until I realized several hours later that I had never put sunscreen on my now-exposed legs, and they were badly burned.  I mean, they had been baking, and from the knee down they are raspberry red and even standing is painful.  I felt sick from it, too. Put a huge bummer on the weekend for me, and sure didn't make my cold feel any better.  The last two nights have been hell trying to sleep comfortably, and I feel really crappy now.

Plus, blowing my nose so much had caused the sunscreen on my nose to wipe away.  It is bright red and peeling.  Even the rest of my face is pink- apparently my new foundation's SPF isn't as effective as the last.  And that spray-on sunscreen is CRAP; it doesn't cover as thoroughly and my chest and neck got painfully red, too.  I haven't been burned in ages.  I feel lovely.

But the fireworks off of the pier were certainly a show worth seeing.  Folks were setting off their own fireworks and [illegal] firecrackers on the sand, and as it got dark not a stitch of fog came in, and you could see firework shows up and down the coastline in the distance.  I wore my sweatshirt and jeans because it was cold at night by the water, and we had a thermous of hot cocoa.  Boats pulled in close to the pier to watch from out at sea.  It was magical, even despite my dripping nose and burning legs.  And, oh, the massive migration of people trying to get out of town immediately after!  We sat in the dark windows and watched as some people crowded one another to leave and others hung around and got drunk in the hotel parking lot.

Most of the weeked was spent relaxing.  The weather was like something you see in a movie about California beaches: beautifully warm, a bit breezy, perfect for playing in the water or on the sand. The room was also reserved for Sunday night, but I am already missing two days of work this week for the seminar, so I couldn't possibly take off another day.

It was so hard to leave.  Heartbreaking.  Do you ever want something so bad, something that you know is so right, that to not have it feels like you're ripping your heart into little pieces?  That's how Chris and I both felt about leaving the coast yesterday.  It feels like saying goodbye to home, and knowing I won't be returning soon.  We belong there with the rejuvenating Pacific air, not here in suffocating Fresno.  We want it so bad that it is like a searing pain in my soul.  It's a shame that a house about 2/3 the size of our apartment here would cost $1.2 million on the central coast.  Coming back here to Fresno- to this job, this weather, this air- felt like a punishment.