Faithful blog followers may have noticed an absence last week. Probably not though. I don’t adhere to a rigid schedule. I don’t force a blog post if there isn’t anything pressing to write about, especially when I’m in the throes of being up against a deadline.
But last week, Hubby-pants and I headed to his family’s shore house for a couple of days, one last time before his family sells it (for reasons I won’t get into). The place is obviously special to him, but it also holds its own place in my heart. You see, when Hubby-pants and I were first dating, he brought me there and we stayed the weekend alone. It was the fist time I had stayed anywhere vacation-ish with a boyfriend before and I was pleasantly surprised to find that he didn’t get on my nerves. That, my friends, is the true meaning of love.
Beach Bums, 2010.
Last week’s stay was mostly a relaxing couple of a days, even the humid day where we sat inside and watched reruns of The Sopranos on HBO-Go all day. The second day, the day after our Sopranos marathon, we decided to actually head to the beach. The previous day, as I mentioned, was humid. But the second day was pleasant. Perfect beach weather. We had breakfast at the table like we’ve always done. I stuffed myself into a bathing suit like I’ve always done. We sprayed each other with sunscreen on the porch, the cool aerosol tickling our skin like it’s always done. We walked up to the beach, set up our stuff, sat in our chairs, and inhaled that sweet salty air.
Then I screamed in pain as a fly bit my ankle.
I looked down and several flies were feasting on my feet and shins. Hubby-pants shooed them away and we both realized at the same time that the wind was coming off the land. At the Jersey shore, a land breeze means one thing: greenheads, biting flies. They have serious choppers. I don’t know the exact PSI of their jaws, but I’m pretty sure they’re the pit bulls of the fly world. They bite you, latch on, and hold on as you swing your limb wildly and desperately from side to side, looking like a crazy person to those who can’t see the tiny pit bull of an insect clamped onto your flesh. And sometimes it feels like they even have a supplementary set of a jaws, like something out of the movie Alien, that bites you a second freaking time. Ouchieee!!!
We were going home later that night and this was our final trip to the shore house. We had to salvage this trip to the beach. So, we had only one choice: We abandoned our tent and chairs and drove to the drugstore for some bug spray and one of those little clip-on fan deals that supposedly disperses bug repellent. When we returned ten minutes later, freshly sprayed, clip in place, chests puffed, full of bravado…the wind had changed to an ocean breeze. All of that and the biting flies were gone. Son of a beach…
Hubby-pants woke me for my first ever sunrise. 2010.
But I like to think that the universe didn’t want us to have just another day at the beach. It gave us a day to remember. It gave us a story. Albeit an annoying story, because the universe can be a real jerk sometimes, but still. I’ll never forget the years Hubby-pants and I got to spend there, and if you guys could buy more of my books and make me famous, maybe I could buy us our own shore house? No? It was worth a shot. 🙂