I don’t feel right talking about how perfect our weekend in
Cambria was because poor Catch was so sick—but even so, it was pretty perfect. I think Catch’s horrid cold
really forced us to lay low and not run ourselves ragged trying to SEE ALL THE THINGS.
We ate dinner at the same restaurant two nights in a row because a) it was fantastic, and b) it was a 3-minute walk from our hotel. Not very adventurous, but totally indulgent.
There was wine. We sat on a blanket and rested our backs against a giant piece of driftwood and drank wine out of plastic hotel cups as the sun set.
There were seals–everywhere. Sunning themselves on rocks. Playing on the beach.
There were tidepools filled with starfish and neon colored anemones.
Naps were taken while the fireplace flickered. Cider was sipped as the fog rolled in and settled for the night.
Catch picked out yarn from a local shop and requested a new hat for winter dog walks.
We even stopped and picked a few baskets of apples in an orchard on our way home.
Weekends like this don't come along often, and I am trying my hardest to hold onto it. I needed this. We needed this.
I popped that first clomid last night with a sip of water, a quick kiss from Catch, and a silent prayer. I love these weekends away, but I would have been just as happy to be the couple across from us at lunch playing with a giggling baby girl as I was to be the sunset couple on the beach.