Five days stand between me and a week at the beach, and I can't wait. The last time I went to the beach was for about two hours on a cloudy March day. March 2014, that is.
I grew up less than an hour from Disney, and many people, when then learn that, typically say, "Oh, you must have gone all the time!" Nope. It's the same with the beach. Every now and again, I'll pack up stuff and go by myself for an afternoon but, despite the fact that being by the sea is just good for the soul, I don't often go until I have someone to go with me.
a cute cottage on Manasota Key, which has some of my favorite beaches in the area. It's the beach I'd take her and dad to when they'd come down to visit, and mom often mentioned wanting to rent some place and spend time, just like she did every other summer growing up, when my grandparents took her and my late Uncle John to alternately either the beach or the mountains. But it never happened, until now.
Needless to say, I am so excited for this little stay(ish)cation. Even though it's so close to my own place, I won't have to think about work for five days. I can wake up watch the sunrise and take a morning swim, say morning prayer on the beach and maybe catch some dolphins swimming by. I hope to read, and write (there are two story ideas fermenting that I've jotted down some notes for and want to explore further) and color (yes, I have a coloring book of Impressionist paintings. Don't mock. It's relaxing.). Mom and I will undoubtedly play some Scrabble, and spend part of at least one day at The Ringling.
I'm just hoping Hurricane Danny doesn't interfere.