I got home last night from vacation and am feeling satisfied, comfortable and grateful for both the break in routine and to settle back into the familiar.  I’m always ready for a venture, nearby or farther out, to look at and taste a new environment or activity.  I browse through local and getaway opportunities as I do cookbooks, searching for a different experience to blend into my ordinary meals. Often my interest is raised as I notice combinations of ingredients I hadn’t considered before.  The question then is whether to close the book or pamphlet  and put it back on the shelf to gather dust, or to jump into it. Although I deplore the thought of having breaks be predictable, I think I succumb too often to my practical, cautious inclinations.  On my projected menus this summer are places I know and love, but there are always unexpected flavors available for added zing. 

 

    This trip was to Southern Oregon to spend with family.  My grandson was baptized on July 4 at Ascension Lutheran Church in Medford, the church his dad, aunt, and uncle grew up with.  Independence Day in more ways than one for five-year-old Brady.  That was blended into the celebration of parade, family barbecue and fireworks (setting off and watching from the front lawn). 

    A couple days later my daughter, granddaughter and I were off to the Oregon coast where we stayed in a vacation rental.  I can’t count the times I’ve been to the Pacific Ocean in Washington, Oregon and California and Hawaii.  Yet, there is always some beach or town to explore.  We were at a couple choice, uncrowded ones north of Lincoln City.  I never tire of watching the dance of the waves as the ocean ebbs and flows and listening to the steady rhythm with accents of innovative splashes against the rocks.  Juicy berries, picked from our friends’ organic farm, fresh seafood and scrumptious bakery treats tantalized our taste buds.  (Memories of the marionberry scone from The Grateful Bread in Pacific City, Oregon is still lingering on my tastebuds. Mmmmm.)

    On Sunday morning as I wrote this, brids serenaded me from the tree outside my open window.  The sound of some freeway trafic flow, which I prefer to think of as surf sounds, played along.  Suitcases and bags of dirty clothes and new purchases awaited sorting, washing and putting away which today (Tuesday) is partially done).  I'm grateful the respite and for home as I ease into my normal life.  My meandering thoughts carried me past the time for early church service, yet gave me time to get ready in beach motion.  Last week I zinged, the last two days I zanged.