Loving The Lighthouse

Lighthouses. They intrigue me. I don't know why I'm so attracted to lighthouses. Perhaps it's because they are so simple, yet can be so elegant, in their design. Perhaps it's because they have their own code with the colors and design of their paint. Perhaps it's because I'm a Midwesterner and as such I have limited access to lighthouses.

You just don't see one very often around here.

Cows, corn, and tractors, yes. Lighthouses, no.

While on vacation in Pensacola last week, I coerced my fellow travelers to indulge me by going to a lighthouse.

To get to the top, we had to walk up 177 steps. No, I didn't count the steps. I simply read the sign announcing 'Only 177 steps to the top!'. I'm gifted this way.

The view was amazing. The Blue Angels hanger on one side.

And the lovely turquoise blue water and white sand beach on the other.

I decided right then and there that I need to live in a lighthouse. No one else shared my enthusiasm for making this our new abode.

Buzzkills.

Upon descending the 177 stairs to the bottom of the lighthouse, we were presented with an award.

A Major Award.

Okay. I may be exaggerating (slightly) about the majorness of the award. And I may be omitting the fact that I had to pay a dollar for it.

Side note: Not sure there are too many Major Awards that the recipients must pay for. The Oscars, for example. Does Meryl have to buy her statues? Good grief, that could get pricey for ol' Meryl.

Our Major Award is pretty fabulous and it states that we conquered the 177 steps up to the top of the lighthouse. I think that a better award should be given for safely descending 177 stairs to the bottom of the lighthouse without either child shoving his/her sibling down the staircase or one spouse shoving the other because he wouldn't stop goosing me her on the way up.

I decided right then and there that I do not need to live in a lighthouse. Too much goosing. And too many choices to make when flushing the potty.

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