First and foremost, I want to thank that precious anonymous blogger that recommended I visit the Pacific Crest Cottage in Gearhart, Oregon. I was able to read the blog comments on my phone over vacation, and when that one came through I was uncertain. Our family vacation was fairly packed with activity, and I didn't want to inconvenience everyone by asking to shop. BUT... my mother/sister-in-law (let's just refer to them as Saint 1 and Saint 2) were good sports and agreed to visit it.
The minute we pulled up in front and left the men sitting in the van (yes, we were very cruel that day) I swallowed hard, gripped my pocketbook and said, "Uh Oh." Saint 2 began to eye Saint 1 and myself with caution. It was obvious she would be the only level head in the shop.
And uh-oh was right.
You see, I was faced with the horrendous realization that this was the shop of my dreams and whatever I bought would have to ride home inside an already bulging suitcase.
As I sampled the free M&M's, my brain began to spin into overdrive. Perhaps I could throw all my clothes away and pack the entire suitcase with purchases? After all, I didn't really have to have those six outfits and two pairs of good jeans.
Then I scrapped that idea and decided to throw all of Matt's clothes away and use his suitcase instead. Surely he wouldn't mind.
But since neither of those options could ever happen (it turns out Matt likes his clothes more than I thought he did), I began to search for a 'pack-able' purchase instead. Overall it was the most exciting shopping excursion I've had in a long time, even if I didn't get to go crazy and even if there were three patient, but mildly unhappy men waiting in the van.
Let's talk about comfort zones shall we? I've never been an exceedingly girly girl, I can kill a spider if I have to. On occasion, in darkest of times, I 've even killed a roach and picked it up with paper towels. But when the family decided to take a 'crabbing' trip, I was hesitant. But I lectured myself, "Come on Liz. This is a new experience, it'll be fun." But deep down inside, I knew that 'crabbing' meant actually having to touch a crab. And since I didn't want my family to know what a wiener I really can be, I went.
Have you ever been crabbing? Let me fill you in. First, you pile into a fishing boat with wonderful accessories. These accessories consist of bright orange life jackets and giant nets with dead fish heads wired to them as bait (big, stinky fish heads with dead, jelly-like eyes). You troll around, dropping these nets over the side (which are attached to buoys). After you've dropped over all the nets in miscellaneous places, you look for the buoys and pick them up, dumping lots of skittering little crabs on the bottom of the boat.
Somehow, through an ironic twist of fate, I ended up on the side of the boat where all the action is. At first, I'll admit, I was not very excited.
But then, something happened. I realized that this was something I'd never done, or might ever do again. In fact, the closest I'll ever get to this is stepping on a craw-dad in a creek somewhere. Yeah, not the same. And so, after an hour of cringing and sidestepping the crabs while Matt and his brother did all the work, I decided it was time to touch a crab. Deep breath.
It wasn't so bad. Basically, you have to grab them on the butt so the giant pincher claws in front don't clamp onto your fingers. Just remember:
crab butt = safety.
All in all, it was blast. I love it when that happens; when I step outside my comfort zone and end up really enjoying myself. I'll admit, it rarely happens. Three cheers for beautiful shopping and stinky crab fishing. Never in a thousand years would I have expected it; but they were equally fun.