Flying objects

Day Two/Three

Pay no attention to that almost septuagenarian in the floppy white hat and the unshaven legs: she wanted a beach vacation and that’s exactly what she’s getting.

I will longer refer to myself in the third person.

Three’s a crowd.

Ignore me when I bitch that there’s no room for your stuff.

I mean, there still isn’t.. it’s not like a bunch of contractors broke in overnight and installed adequate shelving, but I’ve learned to improvise.

Like, a shelf that could hold no more than an upright James Michener novel could now hold my shirts and shorts if I triple fold them.

I have to get over my shelf and enjoy nature.

Nature means sitting on this beautiful beach, walking on cool sand made of quartz , watching as our ten dollar umbrella nearly impaled two separate sets of beach goers.

I came here for the calm, beautiful water, filled with minnows and graceful birds who make the most amazing sounds when they panic dive.

It’s like looking through a kaleidoscope of blues, the reason we came here.

The town is so beachy and shabby chic that I’ve coined a new adjective to describe it: “ shacky.”

It is very shack-y and that’s a good thing.

Everywhere you walk, you see brightly colored shacks, bustling with coffee drinkers and fit people having egg white omelettes next to heavily waxed surfboards.

I don’t know about you, but I absolutely love the sound of a beachy breakfast joint, where you hear the clatter of porcelain plates and glassware and cutlery, with menus that serve things you want to eat but won’t, like freshly made apple fritters.

The fritters are warm ( I’m guessing)and the servers are warmer, even when they’re complaining about the family that occupied the table before you did, and the negligent parents who let their kids doodle butterflies with sharpies.

You see a bird stealing a corner of an omelette that the busboy hadn’t cleared yet, and you say to your husband, “which came first? The bird or the egg?”

We ate breakfast at a place called “Another Broken Egg” and yep, I’m gonna go there.. it’s everything it’s cracked up to be.

Jim is preoccupied with the flying fish and the flying umbrella, I’m wondering who besides me, notices I didn’t shave very well, but after all that is said and done, I’m glad we’re here.

Omg!! Literally, an ice cream truck is floating in the ocean, making its way towards a hot and thirsty crowd! And people are lining up for fudgicles and.. I’m betting.. ice cream floats!!