Being two weeks past chemotherapy and feeling a little better, the inevitable happened. Ocean itch struck again. There is something about the sea that draws me to it. I can't explain it. I just have to go once in a while if for no other reason than to make sure it is still there.

Last week we took a spur of the moment trip to Myrtle Beach. Using the computer, I went on-line and checked out priceline.com. Here you can make a bid on a plane ticket or a motel room. If your bid is accepted, you are booked. No refunds. No changes in dates. You can't choose your motel, but you can request a certain star rating which protects you from the hole-in-road types. For $38 plus tax we got a confirmation for two nights in the middle of the week.

I packed suitcases and counted out a three-day supply of pills. Buddy loaded up the car with the heavy-duty oxygen machine I sleep under at night plus lots of portable O2 bottles. We headed out at 6:00 in the morning and figured on being there around lunch time. It didn't look that far on the map. We made it to our destination as the sun was setting.

The motel was actually a condominium/resort hotel complete with kitchen and ocean-view balcony. We were too tired to do anything that night except go to bed. We were still too road weary to do much the next day. I did take a brief stroll down the windy beach and collected a few shells while Buddy snoozed.

We paid $50 plus a tip to eat in one of those "all you can eat" seafood restaurants. I ate about $3 worth. Just to say we did something while on vacation, Buddy checked into one of the live country shows. It didn't start until 8:00 p.m. which is way past my endurance level if I have been up most of the day. Back at the hotel, our night-time entertainment consisted of watching the baseball play-off game on TV.

At daylight we were on the road home again. So much for a vacation. One day traveling. One day recuperating from the journey. Another day traveling home. Next time we will plan better and certainly stay longer. Somebody gave me some good advice once: "If you are going to go cross-country skiing, start with a small country." I wish I had listened.

Oppie, our Chihuahua, and Mo Mo, our cat, welcomed us home enthusiastically. You would have thought we had been gone three months instead of three days. I hugged them, fed them, and promptly went to bed. Buddy brought in the suitcases and climbed into bed also. Ain't life exciting!

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