Glamour and Beauty

I would like to report that everything about this trip is glamourous.
I'd like to send pictures of myself in a jaunty hat climbing on big rugged rocks, bending over with ease, picking up sea shells.

I'd like to suggest that romance is hovering, about to land, with one of those bikers I saw driving along the switchbacks.

But in the interest of truth in reporting, I must tell you that I look far from glamourous. My nails are chipping, the color half on, half off.  I have worn the same black skirt and beige sweater for the past three days.

And all those cute bags I brought, all organized with camera and maps and books?  Totally junked up!  Maps are strewn all over the front seat and back, so that to find my pills or my book or my camera, I have to pull over and wad up the maps, then the straw bag falls apart because it's over-packed with souvenirs and presents for the grandkids, and everything lands on the floor.

The ice chest that I bought specifically for this trip has not been replenished in days. (I had planned to keep it stocked with only the freshest salads and cheeses from farmer's markets.)

The jacket that I thought I wouldn't get to wear is on the bottom in a basket in the back, when suddenly tonight I realized I needed to dig it out.  I can't find socks.

Climbing on big rugged rocks isn't happening--due to my fascia-itis (which I diagnosed myself since that's what Joy told me she had....)

My head is so stopped up with allergies--or maybe a cold--that when I talk, everyone says, "Huh?"  And I can't hear them either.  This is not boding well for a road romance, I can tell you that right now!

On the other hand, except for the few hours of loneliness that popped up today (seasoned with a few moments of something close to melancholy and mild panic for no reason at all), I am having one of the Times of My Life!

Really.

It's important to know it when A Time is happening.
Sometimes don't we all look back on something and say, "That was one of the best times of my life!"--but we didn't know it at the time.

Glamour, let's face it, has a short shelf life.
Beauty, however--the kind I'm seeing every day--lasts longer than any of us will be alive as sentient beings.  I can't turn back the clock, but when I round a corner (after thinking maybe it's time to turn around and go home) and see another view that takes my breath away, I think maybe I'm learning to breathe a whole new way: inhaling what is too beautiful for the eyes alone to take in.