Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

welcome to the beach

I'm not really a 'water person'. I mean, it's pretty and all. Especially when it's way over there. Where it can't touch me.

I just don't like to be wet.

You get kind of sticky. Your hair gets messy. You have to keep your clothes somewhere else so they stay dry, so you can put them back on. You have to deal with your swimsuit.

If you're at a beach, it's all of the above plus sand (and/or dirt) sticking to your wet self and water animals. Fishes. Leeches. Sharks. Monsters. Little crabs that bite your toes.

But a beach vacation is not, it turns out, about the water. It's about the sand and the beer and the games and the kids chasing each other with sticks. It's about endless cups of coffee and only getting a cell phone signal in one 10 square foot area (and a shoddy signal at that). It's about a hotel room that was decorated so long ago that the decor has come into vogue again. (Think orange shag and avocado green accessories.) Shorts and tank tops and buffet spaghetti dinners?

The beach vacation, I can get into.

As long as no one makes me get into the water.

P.S. Crockett wanted me to remind anyone that is considering breaking into our house of two things. First, we have a housesitter. Second, you don't know our address. Foiled again.

 

how I learned to quit whining and love my hair

yes, this is a cop-out