We’re still in Virginia Beach, wrapping up our whirlwind weekend escape. Once Aaron finishes the stage combat workshop at 6pm tonight, we begin the drive home. The nine hour drive home. Starting at 6pm. Not to mention we both have to work tomorrow. Yes, we’re crazy.

It’s been a nice weekend, though. Friday I decided I wanted to see the Atlantic up close. So I drove out to Cape Henry, which is listed in the guidebooks as the place where the first settlers landed in 1607.

What I didn’t realize is that Cape Henry is positioned in the middle of an active military base. That meant I was required to go through a full military inspection before I could pass through the gates. All doors of the car opened, hood and trunk up, and I had to step away from the car. After the 10 minute inspection, I accepted my pass and continued on.

Cape Henry was beautiful, and I found several shells to take home with me. It felt so nice to walk in the warm sand. (I live in a land-locked area, so a beach is a novelty for me!) As soon as I got to the beach, my sandals were off and I happily scrunched up my toes to feel the sand beneath them.

The weather was in the low 70’s and breezy, but the water was, well, COLD! Wanting to walk in the water for the experience, I can say I was unprepared for the cold shock I received when the water hit my feet. It was so frigid, I felt an electric shock run up my legs into my back. And yet I continued to hang out on the edge of the water for another 30 minutes.

Yesterday I ventured out to Colonial Williamsburg. I am a total history buff (it’s what my degree is in), so I jumped at the chance to see it.

Again, the weather was beautiful. The historical area of Williamsburg was not quite what I expected. For one thing, it’s large. About a mile across by half a mile wide, to be precise. Good thing I decided to wear comfortable shoes, because by the end of the day my feet were killing me.

It’s hard to describe all I saw there, so I’m just going to let the pictures do the talking for me.

Before I left, I bought Cordy a colonial doll and a drum. The shopkeeper looked at me like I was mad for willingly buying my child a drum. I may regret the choice, but as a former drummer, I had to get it for her.

I also purchased another small gem that I will share with all of you over the next week or so. Here’s a hint: our children have it so much easier these days when it comes to rules.

Hi Everyone! Please welcome Divine Calm as my guest blogger for the April Blog Exchange. You can find me at her site today!
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Certain memories trigger uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. They usually involve my standing on the precipice of the past, ready to dive into the future—all while praying I don’t land on my head. Like the time when I started eighth grade and decided to reinvent myself from nerd to outgoing social diva. I was so successful that I lost my virginity. Or during my freshman year in college, where I was away from home for the first time and flirted with the local college boys. That year, boys triumphed over classes. Like so many freshman girls, I forgot why I was there or who I was. The boys’ point of view validated or belittled my worth.

The last time I tried to transform myself occurred when I started my first job after college. Wearing new suits bought on clearance, I so badly wanted to appear polished and confident. I wasn’t. Frequently, my face reddened when I met important people like my former college’s president or when my boss corrected my grammar in front of others. Runs in panty hose plagued me, and I discovered bullies shut up when I verbally slammed them back. In order to survive, I learned that I had to first look for the bad in people instead of discovering the good.

It’s been over five years since I began my first grown-up job, and soon I will lunge into a new life. Am I nervous? Not really. For some reason—perhaps maturity or boredom—I yearn for the upcoming plunge where everything—city, career, and friends—is new but me. This time, I won’t transform myself. I will simply allow myself to be who I always was, only hidden. I will be goofy, loving, honest, disorganized, and open. I will call myself artist, writer, photographer, thinker, marketer, and lover. Even better, people will call me these things too. I will no longer meld into the ego prop for insecure people just to be kicked out from beneath them later. My relationships and friends will be healthy.

By saying all of this, I reaffirm my own healthiness. What a freeing way to begin anew.

You can read more about Divine Calm and view her photography at her website, www.divinecalm.com.

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This post is part of a monthly blog exchange, held on the first of every month. We all write on a topic (this month is New Beginnings) and post on another person’s blog as a way to gain new readers and find new blogging friends. This month’s participants include: Christina, Kristen, TB, Chase, Mel, stacy, Julie, Laurie, Mabel, and Vicki. If you would like to participate, please email Kristen at kmei at yahoo dot com.

We made it to Virginia Beach after a 10 hour car drive yesterday. The drive was fairly unexciting, aside from a 30 mile stretch of road between Huntington and Charleston, WV that I have now christened as “Road Kill Alley”. The deer in that area are either not too bright or just have really bad luck. Along that stretch of road, I counted well over 35 dead deer, along with various smaller creatures. That’s greater than one dead animal a mile, folks. I’ve never heard of an area where the deer population control weapon of choice is a vehicle. Now, I’m not a gun advocate, but come on, people of West Virginia – it’s at least more humane.

Our room is pretty nice. We have a fridge and a microwave, and high-speed internet access, which of course was a must. The breakfast here is amazing – every type of breakfast food you could think of is available.

The one unpleasant aspect is the surprise we had waiting in our bathroom. I saw something hanging on a hook, and couldn’t figure out what it was. Was it a towel? A shower cap? Aaron took a closer look to tell me. Turns out, it’s a pair of underwear. Someone else’s underwear. Yuck.

Not sure what I’m going to do today. I will probably look in the guide book and find something to explore in the area. The weather is great, and thanks to the Hippo Diet, I can just barely fit into my capris, so life is good!

As of tomorrow I will be posting from Virginia Beach for the weekend. Aaron has to go to Regents College for a stage-combat workshop, and I’m tagging along. My mom has once again proven to be Super Grandma and offered to stay at our house with Cordelia for the weekend. It’ll be nice to have child-free nights!

Aaron won’t get to see the area much, but I intend to be out and about sightseeing each day. Anyone live near Virginia Beach?

As many steady readers know, I’m back in school for another degree. I ended up with an A in both Anatomy and Psychology last quarter, and this quarter I was going to take Statistics, but changed my mind at the last moment and switched to Developmental Psychology instead.

I never realized how insanely stupid a bookstore can be until today. As I walked into the store, I was greeted by a police officer. Not exactly what I expected to see.

He told me in a rather gruff voice that since I had a book to sell back (from last term), as well as books to exchange, I wouldn’t be allowed in the store until I sold the book from last quarter back first. Textbooks from last term were prohibited in the store.

Of course, buybacks aren’t being held there, but instead in a little dungeon on the other side of the large building. So I walk to the other side of the building, on another floor, to sell my book back. After accepting my pithy $30 for my $100 book (that’s an entire topic for another day!), I returned to the bookstore to try for entry again.

This time the keeper of the gate lets me pass, after examining my receipt as if it contained the location of WMDs or Bin Laden. But I was told I had to stand in the returns line, and could not move from that line. Could I get the book I needed to purchase? Nope, had to do the return, then get the book I need, then get in another line and wait more. Simply insane.

So while in line, I decided I wasn’t going to stand for this kind of poor planning, and grabbed the next sales associate who walked by. I asked him, as politely as possible, if he could fetch the book I needed for my class. He willingly obliged, and after a few minutes I was still standing in the returns line, but I also had the book I needed to purchase. Take that, line nazi!

Once I got to the counter, I had to face one more hurdle: convincing the returns girl to let me also purchase the book. Luckily, I sailed through this challenge as well, with a little politeness and gratitude. You’d think these poor folks had never had anyone be nice to them before!

Soon I was on my way out the door, with a sly smirk to the gatekeeper cop as I walked past.