Beach Bliss

It’s no big surprise that I’m ready to move.

I talk about it all the time. I’ve got a daily countdown set up on my refrigerator, planner and every major social networking site.

I curse the flat land of Florida, loathe the ridiculous temperatures and at times wish it would just float to the bottom of the ocean and remain unnoticed and unmissed.

But there’s one thing that this cold, hardened, embittered heart of mine will miss about my home of the last 14 years.

The shore, the waves, the seagulls, the stereotypical and superfluous palm trees. Loading the car up with 12-packs of beer and foot-long subs. Trudging through the sand lugging towels and books and a small radio. Basking in the sun checking tan lines and drifting in and out of peaceful slumber. Feeling completely content and relaxed after a long day by the water.

I’ll miss that.

So in an effort to cram in as much of it as possible before our swiftly approaching departure, the Boo and I have implemented weekly beach days.

(the boo and i in Clearwater. yes, i realize i have pronounced cankles in this picture.)

Every Friday we pack it all up, turn off our phones and head out to the vast expanse of sand, sun, and salt water. It’s the perfect conclusion to a long stressful week and a reminder that “there’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.”

(If you can name that song, I will love you forever.)

Happy Friday, everyone. Here’s to increased chances of melanoma, sand in every orifice and tipsy peeing in the water. (And don’t you dare act like you’ve never done that.)