Back to the beach. Back to patterns. Back to basics. Back to back. Back to the future. Back against the wall. Missing the beach, I am. I’ll get back to the beach later this month when the biting insects have departed.
A friend helped me out for hours today. Wardrobe issues, and she was great. She found new combinations I had overlooked, gently critiqued items that didn’t work, coordinated shoes and jewelry; then let me bamboozle her into going shopping with me for a few things I needed. Pretty darn nice. (I’m choosing my clothes for my niece’s wedding and rehearsal dinner, etc. — such fun!)
She lives downtown; I’m here in our beach town 30 miles north. We used to live across the hall from each other, in the condo we lived in our first seven months in San Diego. After leaving Kansas City, it was difficult to uproot ourselves yet again. 30 miles isn’t that far, but there’s traffic and…you don’t just “pop in” when it’s 30 miles. What does it mean that you can’t go back?! I guess it means that it takes special effort to see our downtown friends, and we don’t do it often enough. Back?