I have a confession to make. I lied about Loren’s breed when checking in last night, writing down “boxer/pit bull mix.” Why? I was afraid they wouldn’t let us in a fancy place if I stated pit bull. I’m kind of ashamed of myself, really. Next time, I’ll be 100% honest and proud to write pit bull, damn the consequences.

It’s so humid. We got up and went for a walk at 7:30 a.m. and it just hits you like a steam room. Within 30 seconds, my hair starts to curl.

After taking advantage of the free breakfast here, I set up Loren for a flea bath appointment. She’s been scratching a lot - this is bug country, for all creatures apparently. Beforehand, I was determined for us to see the ocean, so we headed for the one dog-friendly stretch of this 27-mile long beach I could find online, near the Dan Russell City Pier, set smack dab in the heart of Panama Beach City.



While finding a parking spot, my friend Liz called to tell me she had walked my dogs and how well they were doing. Having to parallel park, I asked her to hold and threw the phone in the back cab. It fell into Loren’s water dish. It died. A classic Michelle move.

We hit the beach and Loren was panting within five minutes, way more interested in the nasty kelp beds than the pristine blue-green water. She ran from the waves, as gentle as they were. Thankfully, the fine white sand wasn’t hot or we wouldn’t have made it five feet. (I found one area that Florida kicks California’s ass. Their beaches are more Caribbean than toxic wasteland).


"See, you don't have to actually walk in the water..."


"I laugh in the face of danger...ha ha ha ha ha..."


"Hey there...come here often?"


"Thanks for bringing me here, Aunt Michelle."

On our way up the shore, a young black Great Dane with floppy ears ran over to meet Loren. Unlike my civic-minded self, his owner didn’t have the dog leashed. Though he seemed friendly enough, I panicked, yanking Loren away and hoping he’d get distracted. No such luck.

He made contact and I lamely pulled out my air horn, which gave a funky fizzing sound since I hadn’t used it in months. The Great Dane’s owner retrieved him in time - she must have thought I was nuts! I felt bad for not giving Loren a chance to interact with him. She didn’t seem aggressive. just startled. Next time I will give her the choice of whether she wants to meet a new dog and act accordingly, instead of freaking out and setting her up for failure. I am not yet a pack leader, even with just one dog, but am learning.

I dropped Loren off at the Barks and Bubbles salon. She ran off with Matthew the groomer with nary a glance backward. Yeah. Three hours to myself. Too bad 1.5 of them were spent tracking down a non-existent AT&T store (thanks, Gidget!) and getting my oil changed.

The remainder was spent at Sharkey’s, a tourist trap (think Pappas and Beer in Florida) with mediocre food and the most bitchen ocean views. Like real estate, this restaurant was all about location, location, location. They had a “Lobster Zone” game, like the toy retrieval version found at restaurants everywhere, only with live crustaceans they’ll cook up for $2 a try. I passed.


Good times, Florida style...except for the lobsters!

Armed with a great book (“Me Talk Pretty One Day” by David Sedaris), watching over the leathery brown people basking in the sunlight as I ate my dry fish tacos, I had an epiphany. I, like Loren, am not a beach girl. I used to be a faithful sun worshipper, lavishing on the baby oil and sizzling for hours, but now I’d much rather be somewhere cool, like the mountains where I live. The heat is too much for me. I, too, am a delicate flower.


Nice view...wish I could say the same for my hair!

For that reason, I’ve decided to reroute away from some of the beach campgrounds and head into the country. We are spending an extra night in Savannah and going to Asheville, North Carolina (which I heard is a really cool place), and Wytheville, Virginia, before resuming our route to Baltimore. This will also break up some of the mileage-heavy legs of the trip.

Also, no camping - unless we can upgrade to cabins. As much as I’d like to be a handy, rough-it kind of girl, I have to admit - it’s just not my nature. I like having a roof over my head - preferably plaster, not nylon, which is prone to, say, gators. I’m not a wimp - I live in bear country and have been within 100 yards of a mountain lion, only to hike the same trail the next day. I just like my comforts. I’m getting old…I deserve it…and so does Loren. She spends enough time outside in her kennel.

Loren got a perfect report card from Matthew, the groomer, who said she was sweet throughout the whole process, including getting her nails clipped. So far, she has proven to be a wonderful dog - loves to travel and snuggle, no potty accidents, fine at the groomer, great with people, including little kids. (Anyone in Southern California ready to adopt her?)


"I feel pretty, oh so pretty..."

We ended our night with dinner at Barnacle Bruce’s - fresh Dungeness crab, steamed with a side of butter, steamed corn and potatoes, and a healthy dinner salad to round things out. If you’re gonna hang out at the ocean and not go in the water, one should at least enjoy the fruits of the sea.