This Trip Was Planned Before I Decided To Host A Party For Steve.

Less than a week after Steve's birthday, we left for a family vacation to Florida.
I was not really ready to go on a trip, as my nature is to recharge under many blankets after a big event.
I recharge best at home.  In my own bed.
But I decided to do the  "don't dread, don't dwell"  on this and to be grateful for the opportunity to get to the beach in the dead of winter.
K and G were very excited.
We went with JB/MB and their three teens.
Plus,  two buddies of Steve from Punxsutawney (one lives 3 hours away from where we were, and the other 45 mins away) were planning to meet up with us as well.
Unfortunately, soon after we got there, Steve who was already feeling under the weather--got very sick. He was able to go to the beach on thursday and a bit on friday--have a nice visit with his friends friday night--but by saturday he was down with what seemed like pneumonia.
He had to stay in bed for three whole days--while the rest of us enjoyed the beach.

The thing is, this is not the first time Steve has gotten sick during vacation.   A few days later,
just when I was tempted to start taking this personally, DZ sent me an interesting article about people that get sick on vacation--
It made sense to me.
And so now, in retrospect, instead of thinking that our vacation was spoiled by his illness, I realize that perhaps it was a good time as any for Steve to have the opportunity to be sick in peace.
Steve being sick meant MB's time was devoted solely to JB so JB/MB got quality one-on-one,
the five teens had fun with each other and I was able to get an unlimited fill of the ocean.
(which I absolutely love.)
While at first I thought that I needed my own bed to recharge from life's busyness--I was wrong.
The beach is where I needed to be.
I am recharged and ready for more living.

This is me begging "just one picture!!!"
5 miler on the beach.  Barefoot.  I did not mean to go this far--but I because I was praying that Steve would recover or at least improve enough to catch our tuesday morning flight, I decided to shoot for the rocks at the end of the beach.  I didn't realize how difficult it is to run that far on sand.  I pretty much had to walk, jog, walk, hobble and limp home after the third mile. 
Here's the photo proof that I made it to the 2.5 mark...