Beauty and the beach

Someone famous (the Internet attributes everyone from Albert Einstein to Benjamin Franklin, so who knows?) once said, "insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

I think about my daily life and its routine. I wake up, get ready, drive to work, work all day, drive home, get ready for the next day, go to bed, and do everything over again the next day and the one after that and the one after that. Occasionally my evenings are peppered with classes or dinners with friends, and on the weekends I like to the theatre or a sporting event. But for the most part, my life is predictable.

So as I wait (as I believe many young people do) for "the next big thing" to happen in my life, I shouldn't be surprised that something new and exciting is unlikely to happen to me by doing the same things over and over.

This week I'm on vacation. On this trip, as with any other I've taken, I find myself torn between relaxing and exploring. Catching up on sleep and packing as much into a day as possible. So while I relished the idea of a lazy morning, I was more interested in the unexpected. It was time for different results.

Though I like to think of myself as a morning person, those mornings rarely begin before seven. Today, however, I woke up at five o'clock and dressed by the light of the fireplace in my hotel room. I enjoyed a quick breakfast there as well, then grabbed my camera and headed out into the still-dark morning.

Now, I'm no sunbather, but I've always loved the ocean. I love the sound the waves make as they rumble along and crash into the surf and the rocks. I love the smell of the salt water, the briny air, and coconut-scented sunblock. I love sticking my toes in the cold surf, finding bits of sea glass, and searching for shells. So I chose this vacation spot to try to sneak in some time with the beach before the summer crowds hit.

When I reached the waterfront this morning, it was completely deserted. Not a single soul was walking or running along the beach, and the birds weren't yet awake. I breathed in the salty fresh ocean air and smiled. It felt incredibly indulgent to have the beach to myself and I took the time to drink in my surroundings. Here was the ocean, stretched before me (and only me): a deep dark line and a slightly lighter blue one, split across the horizon by a tiny strip of pinkish orange.

I took a hundred photos of that sunrise. As dawn broke brighter across the sky, joggers and dog walkers started to speckle the path along the beach. Most of them looked like they were engrossed in their own routines; I suspect I was the only tourist among them. And I wondered if they were appreciative of the beauty of the ocean and the sunrise, or if this was merely their own version of the same thing over and over again. If I spent each morning greeting the sun on the beach, would I feel as though I have achieved my "next big thing"? Or would that, too, become a piece of my day to day routine, easy overlooked and under-appreciated?

I like to think that not only can I do different things for different results, but I can do the same things differently. I'd like to appreciate the little things in my life that seem monotonous, but really do bring me a lot of joy. I love waking up to the sun streaming in my window each morning, and I'm forever grateful to see the Boston skyline each morning as I drive into work. I'm lucky enough to have colleagues with whom I get along, and a family that loves me. So while I try new things and pack in new experiences, I'm also going to make a new experience out of the routine. It's my hope that just by looking at things differently I'll be able to produce a few new results. That way, I don't have to wait for the next big thing to happen to me -- I can go looking for it.

Photos by Danielle E. Brown.

Airline to charge for both checked and carry-on baggage

This afternoon's Bad Idea of the Day has been announced, with Yahoo News reporting that Spirit Airlines will "charge as much as $45 each way" for carry-on baggage. The charge is in addition to the fees passengers pay for checked bags (between $15 and $100 per bag, depending on the circumstance).

Yahoo reports that "Spirit CEO Ben Baldanza said having fewer carry-on bags will help empty the plane faster. He said the idea is to get customers to pay for individual things they want, while keeping the base fare low."

Fewer carry-ons will empty the plane faster, eh? Is that a big draw for people? Are travelers going to flock to Spirit Airlines for the prospect of getting off the plane three minutes sooner than with other airlines? Can people set aside the fact that they're being nickel and dimed by an airline? I can only imagine that Spirit Airlines has just committed a big ol' PR blunder. By charging passengers to bring luggage on the plane, the airline is letting its customers know that their needs aren't important, but revenue is.

If the comment traffic under the initial report is any indication, Spirit Airlines is unlikely to have many takers on its offer of "keeping base fares low", since nearly everyone travels with luggage of some kind. Comments range from "Wow, next they will be charging to sit or stand on a plane, " to "Well thanks, Spirit. You just made it easier for me to decide I WILL NOT be flying with you!" and "Sounds like a great plan... if you want to chase away customers to other airlines."

I can't say I disagree. While baggage fees have inspired me to pack lighter, I simply carry on my (fewer) belongings now, instead of paying to have them checked. I can say undoubtedly, that I would never fly an airline that would require such ridiculous fees. I prefer to do business with people who appreciate my patronage, rather than people trying to stick me with unprecedented charges.

What do you think? Will people stop flying Spirit Airlines? Will (far worse) other airlines follow suit and start charging for carry-on baggage?

Vacation, all I ever wanted...

I love to travel.

I like to pack up and get away for awhile. It's the feeling of "away" that I enjoy the most. I'm just as happy to explore a new city as I am on Space Mountain or tucked into a comfy hotel bed reading a book. That's why, even in this rough economy, I am reluctant to give up on the idea of a "vacation" in favor of a "staycation".

Cartoon by Jeff Stahler.

I'm a pretty frugal person by nature. I shop with coupons. I don't have any credit card debt. I recycle plastic sandwich baggies by using them for a week at a time. The most expensive thing in my closet is a pair of $150 shoes that I bought on clearance for less than ten bucks. So when I talk about splurging on vacation, I know that some people think it's odd. It goes against my instincts just a little bit, but...

Ultimately the urge to get away, to go on vacation, to see or do something different, wins. The angel on one shoulder waives a deposit slip and extols the virtues of saving, while the devil in a Hawaiian shirt dangles a passport in my face and whispers in my ear that you only live once. So the devil wins and I grab my suitcase and head off.

Bon voyage!

Car Karma?

Earlier this week I had a routine physical at my doctor's office. I drove from work, parked my car in the lot, and spent an hour in the medical center. After my appointment I got back in my car, turned the key in the ignition, and... nothing.

I tried again. A faint buzzing sound, but no engine running. I fiddled with the ignition, the gears, and all important-looking buttons, to no avail. My car was good and dead.

I popped the hood, took a cursory look around and called AAA. They promised to send someone within the hour, so I hung up and poked around under the hood some more, not doing much other than enjoying the sunshine and lamenting my dead car.

All the while, people came and went from the medical center. Mothers with their school age children, elderly couples, college students -- they all traipsed about the parking lot on their way in and out of the doctors' offices, without more than a sideways glance at me. There I was, alone with the hood of my car propped up, and those people never bothered to give me a second glance or ask if I was alright. Finally, after about a half an hour, a woman my own age saw me from the far end of the parking lot, drove over to my car, and asked if I was alright. I explained that the car had died and I had called AAA, but that I really appreciated her stopping to check on me. We chatted for a moment, she wished me luck, and then she was off.

Right after the woman's kindness, a man had the gall to drive up in his SUV and park in the space I had been trying to save for the AAA truck. He ignored the space on the other side of the one I was unsuccessfully saving, and barged right in, hopping out of his car without a single word to me. Later, when the tow truck appeared (and awkwardly maneuved around the parking lot), Mister SUV gave me a pompous look and hopped into the gas-guzzler with two rosaries hanging from the rear-view mirror.

Non-Samaritans aside, AAA tried to jump my battery and, when that didn't work, readied my car for towing to my mechanic's shop. I did have a bout of good luck when a woman I know popped out of the medical center and offered me a ride home. I gratefully acceptable and thanked her profusely.

I hear stories about how you can never be too careful these days; you don't pick up hitchhikers and you don't stop for strangers. But at 3 p.m. on a sunny Friday afternoon in a wide-open medical center parking lot, was it too much to ask that someone stop and see if I was okay? Did I maybe need to borrow a cellphone or could someone jump my car for me? Did the women with elementary schoolers have to explain to her children why my hood was open and she did nothing? Did the man with the rosaries go to mass the next day with a clear conscience? Did the father of a newly-licensed teenage girl tell her never to assist broken-down motorists? I am truly surprised that people were so callous.

I am grateful to the woman who stopped to check on me, the kind AAA folks, and the woman who eventually gave me a ride home, but I'm still puzzled that no one else bothered to say anything. I also wonder what I would have done in the same situation. I can only hope that I would have at least asked if the motorist was okay, and maybe offered my cell phone. I'm an advocate of personal safety, but not personal oblivion. When we ignore our fellow man and possibly lie to our children about it, we're doing a disservice to ourselves and our communities. I don't want to live in a place where you can't ask a twentysomething woman in a bright, suburban parking lot if her car is alright when its hood is up and she looks puzzled.

I hope to make conscious decisions to assist those in need of assistance whenever possible, and I hope that Friday's incident in the parking lot was an anomaly, not the norm. Here's to appreciating the good-hearted women who stopped for me and to hoping that those who ignored me will have second thoughts next time around rather than suffer from bad car karma.

Traveling solo -- a way to relax

It isn’t often that we get to do whatever we want whenever we want. 40 hours each week are consumed by work, another 10 for the commute, a couple for the gym, a few dozen more for housekeeping and errands, and it often seems like the rest are used when I fall – completely exhausted – into bed just to do it all over again the next week.

This week, however, I went on vacation. Not any old vacation, but a trip totally by myself. I didn’t have to answer to anyone but me. No bosses, no boyfriends, no colleagues, no parents. It’s the first time I’ve ever traveled by myself, and I must say that I feel relaxed in a way that I’m not when I travel with others.

Don’t get me wrong – I love traveling with people. It’s wonderful to experience all the world has to offer with the people closest to you. I wouldn’t trade my adventures with family and friends for anything, but I also underestimated how much fun traveling alone could be. When I booked my trip I needed a break; work was getting a little stressful, home wasn’t a restful place to be, and I had a growing list of things I wanted to do for me that never got any shorter since it was always trumped by staff meetings, oil changes, and laundry.

To get away from it all I ended up in New York City. Since this vacation was to be as stress-free and rejuvenating as possible I didn’t even want to bother with driving or taking a bus; I booked a flight straight to NYC from Boston and never looked back. An hour on the plane and three days and nights in a swanky hotel room near Times Square turned out to be exactly what the doctor ordered.



I did all sorts of things that no one would appreciate as much as I did, and that’s the best thing about traveling alone – you don’t have to please anyone but yourself! I stood in line at the TKTS booth to score discounted tickets to Broadway shows, then parked myself in various musical theatres three times in just over 24 hours. I had breakfast in bed. I drank over-priced wine and ate pretzels from street vendors. I wrote for my blogs and read young adult novels (a favorite guilty pleasure). I even trotted my traveling gnome all over the city and took her picture in several hotspots. I didn’t follow an itinerary, just followed my heart (and directions to the Cupcake Cafe).



Bottom line, there’s nothing that can beat a soft bed in a posh hotel room and three days of doing exactly what you want when you want. No one wants too much of a good thing, but I think anyone would benefit from a week of paying attention to herself and doing whatever she wants – bosses, boyfriends, and busy-bodies be damned. It’s great to be away and it’ll be great to go home, but I want to remember what fun I’ve had while I was gone. Maybe I can try to incorporate a little bit more “me time” in the real world too. Hey, there are 168 hours every week; the least I can do is try to reserve a few for me. (Besides, an hour at home with my scrapbook supplies is cheaper than flying off to the city that never sleeps!)



To traveling alone and to living life to the fullest! May each of us be like Willa Cather, who said “I shall not die of a cold. I shall die of having lived.” Cheers!