Surf Hair
I have always been told that I have beautiful hair and was even trained by my Grandma Lowman how to gracefully take compliments from strangers telling me what a gorgeous color my hair is. This post isn’t about my gorgeous hair. This post is about Barry’s hair.
Barry has beautiful hair. It curls, it is thick and it grows like those dang weeds in my garden. Not only does it grow like a weed but it also makes for a great show each morning, even when we aren’t camping. When we are camping/surfing/being plowed by piles of sand, however, his hair has it’s own life. It’s kind of like a teenager, doing as it pleases with nobody else in mind.
Looks normal here, right? I thought so too.
I mean, what exactly is normal, right?
How is it possible to have your hair do that? Does the saltwater really work better than L.A. Looks?
It doesn’t really look any better from that side either, does it?
The top? Oh. My. God.
Phew. Luckily, we bought The Vacation Hat to help when the hair becomes so unruly neither one of us know what to do with it. Not only does he look super cute in The Vacation Hat, but I also happen to think his hair looks beautiful when standing up at all angles from his head…can’t be that much of an improvement over my wind-blown dome.
Road Trippin' 09
On the Road Again
I dumped about a pound of sand out of my ear this afternoon after we returned from the beach to our car. Trying to fight the fight against the sand just isn’t an option on this trip.
About a week before we left, Barry’s brother, Brian, got a ride from us for whatever reason and even he made a comment about how much sand we had in our car. This was before we spent majority of our days lolly-gagging on the beach.
We’ve pretty much steered clear of the beaches filled of tourists that instantly drop their beach chairs once their white little toes hit the sand. We’ve discovered a new favorite beach in Oswald State Park. You have to walk down a winding path for about 3/4 of a mile before discovering the beach.
The fact that getting to this beach means you have to essentially hike down a trail allows for it to feel much more remote than other nearby destinations. Each time we’ve been there, we’ve been able to find a private and peaceful area to call our own. Sadly, today was our last day at Oswald West State Park, as tomorrow**, bright and early, we hit the Tillamook Cheese Factory (yummy!) and drive to southern Oregon!
** I’m attempting to write a couple more posts right now and will have them post tomorrow and in days to come. In the past, it hasn’t worked, but I’m crossin’ my sandy little fingers.
Road Trippin' 09 , Uncategorized
Where’s Your Mom?
Sydney and I decided to check out a view point at Echola State Park while Hannah took a couple pictures with her camera.
Normally, we hit up this park so I can try to surf. It’s a nice protected cove, and makes a great place for a beginner like me to dial in my popup stance. Unfortunately, it was too windy and the waves were washed out, but it did let us explore the beach and trails a bit.
Down on the beach was a baby seal. I couldn’t figure out why it was trying to stay on land, but a woman on the beach was insistent that I leash up Sydney so Syd didn’t disturb the seal.
Apparently, she’s never seen The Pug on the beach. She focuses on monitoring birds trying to land and chasing wind blown feathers. Needless to say, we didn’t stick around the seal for too long. Instead we turned our attention to the view point.
The view point itself really isn’t that notable. It’s your standard walk up a hill and look down at a beach. However, while Sydney and I stopped to investigate a sign post (she smelled it while I checked the distance to our destination) two little girls of about 5 years old asked if they could pet Sydney.
I thanked them for asking and told them that Sydney would love to be petted. While Sydney soaked up the attention one of the girls inquired if I had a mom. I assumed she was asking if I had another dog that was Sydney’s mother, and told her that Sydney was the only dog I had.
The girl paused for a second looking confused and asked again.
“Do you have a mom?”
I realized she was asking about me, and told her I did in fact have a mom. I decided I probably didn’t need to get into the biology of the whole process and instead tried an indirect route by asking her if she did.
She completley ignored my question and shot back “Where is she?” Apparently I didn’t look fit to be hiking by myself. Her Dad chuckled a little bit to himself and informed her I was old enough to hike by myself.
I, of course, relayed the story to Hannah as proof that I am aging gracefully.
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