Well driving was not what ended up causing my back to hurt so much, but it did make it a lot worse. The morning of driving to Destin from Tuscaloosa, I had played tennis in my beginning tennis class. I preceded to tear my scapula muscle, which is between your shoulder blade and spine, and not notice this until the next day after sleeping on a couch (my bedroom partner snores so loudly, I, who is hearing-impaired, could not get passed the sound to drift off) in a funky position. I continued to try to ignore the pain for the next few days because I had gotten it in my head that NOTHING will stop me from trying to relax and have a good time on a trip (except the pain wouldn't let me relax, but I did have a good time!).
My aunt is an amazing woman. She married my uncle a few years ago and has made all our lives more lit with laughter. She's a northerner and she is hilarious to the core. She loves her dogs like their literally her children (and her dogs literally act like little humans, one can even skateboard). She's had a hard road to travel before my family, but she brings a whole lot of love still to our family. I'm so glad she's in our lives.
So my aunt and I were scouring the local newsletters and papers for something to do until my family made it to town. We found out a Native American Festival was going on that day that was near a strip known for hosting art nights along a boardwalk. I like any excuse to shop for something unique and foreign, and for learning something new, so we headed off to the festival. It was just a little event, nothing too big, a couple of guys dressed in native gear dancing and singing and getting children involved with Native American signals and such. Most of the art tents were run by 'white' people who say they were representing a Native American artist. I'm not sure if all were true and not cons, but this one tent had some absolutely amazing clay artworks. They clay was multicolored and it swirled around within the shapes that the artist created. They were of course shapes 'native' to the idea of a Native American. Feathers, bears, headdresses, totem animals, etc. The other tents had your standard leather hide clothing or bags and belts, or arrows made from rocks. The festival was kind of cheesy in its efforts to memorialize Native American traditions, but it was still fun to see. I bought a five dollar necklace. It was a little leather pouch that held a worry rock, which is a rock (tumbled?) smooth with an indent for your finger to rub. It was meant to rub away your worries, your fears, your anxieties, which I have a lot of anxieties, so it was a cheap good investment. Plus, the rock was pretty.
For the life of me, I can't remember what we did next. That's what I get for putting things off. I know my family came down and we ate some good foods and went to the beach. I remember going to the seafood market to find some crab legs (we ended up going to walmart! of all places ON THE COAST, seafood markets were flat out of crab legs).
I shot photos and played with the dogs and my nephew. I'm sure the girls went shopping and my uncle just worked or relaxed at home. My nephew loved the beach so much he didn't want to leave. I spent a few hours bound and determined to catch those tiny shells with some tiny living creatures in them that whenever the tide recedes, you see them all on top of the sand until they burrow their little homes down under. I collected broken sand dollars and screamed like an actual girl when a crab crawled over my foot, snapping its way back underground. We ate some more good foods, and I drove home.
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