In this case, the curve took the form of my wife, who mixed up the dates that she had booked a week at Virginia Beach for her periodic treatment for living without the ocean next door by getting exposure to ocean waves, sea breeze and warm sands. So yesterday, we threw our swim suits, beach chairs and toothbrushes in the car trunk and drove down to where the Chesapeake Bay meets the Atlantic Ocean.
Last night when we arrived at our hotel, we were given free tickets to a Cirquesa Dreamquest, a circus-like show more modestly scaled than Cirque du Soleil but still fun to watch. I am a big fan of Cirque du Soleil as I wrote here before, so I can appreciate the story-telling ambition and the affinities with yoga that were displayed last night. Of course, the show was targeted at harried parents trying to find things for their kids to do when not on the beach. Virginia Beach is not Las Vegas or Broadway, but imagination and inventiveness reinvigorate circus traditions anywhere.
So I will be here until Friday, following my wife’s recipe for re-energization, using the isolation and slower pace to work my way through some reading, tasks and planning. I guess this is what happens when you get pitched a hanging curve ball.