First Time for Being Down with OPP

So this past Friday was my last day working for the proverbial man – for a while, any way – and in order to both detox and be good stewards of our dwindling funds, DJ, Roxie, and I decided we should head to the beach for a family trip while I’m still earning money from my unused vacation days. We found a pretty cheap place at Fort Walton Beach, and yesterday we excitedly hauled ourselves and our crap down here for one whole week of surf, sun, and sand.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to the beach in Florida (I think the last time was a high school spring break where we all got drunk on Zima, if that gives you some idea), and one thing I forgot about was the hilarious sights that occur between Atlanta and the Gulf coast. Unfortunately, we weren’t on the highway that features the alternating signs for strip clubs and admonishments from the Baptist church (“All Nude!” “Repent!” “All Nude!” “Repent!”), but we DID take the road that rolls through a little town called Opp, Alabama. If you, too, are of an age when you drank Zima on a high school spring break, you will already be singing the song “O.P.P.”. I’ve been singing it for two days straight. And I’m proud to say that, before this trip is over, I think Roxie will definitely be able to sing it, too.

In fact, that may be a project of ours. Because I can tell you, it’s a bit of shock to the system to go from the chaotic last days of a busy job to lazy beach world. DJ and I are highly untrained at doing nothing. Today, we got up and drank coffee on the beach, changed into our bathing suits, swam in the ocean, swam in the pool, built sandcastles, drank a beer, napped, changed into new bathing suits, swam in the ocean, swam in the pool, built more sandcastles, and watched four consecutive episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba – and discovered it was roughly 12:37 p.m. At one point, we wondered if time was moving backward. Ok, ok, it’s a wonderful problem to have, I know, but when you are showered, dressed, and ready to go to dinner at 4:30 p.m., a week at the beach can seem a bit intimidating. I have decided I must work harder to kill the brain cells that still have the urge to spreadsheet.

With that said, however, I must report a lovely first in Roxie’s life (other than being subjected to the song “O.P.P”) that has brought this trip and our new world order into sharp focus. Last night, we kept the kiddo up late so we could walk on the beach. For the first time, Roxie took off her shoes and walked under her own power to put her feet in the ocean. Now, the past week has been a stressful one: I’ve cried out of sadness. I’ve cried out of frustration. I’ve cried because I miss my mom. But last night, I got to cry because I watched my husband and Roxie stand with their feet in the ocean and expressions of absolute joy on their faces. You down with O.P.P.? Yeah, you know me.