Remembering when ‘a beach day’ meant grabbing a paperback book, a bottle of cream soda and a towel, I was amazed at the necessities ready to be loaded into the car for a couple hours of sunny surf.
The cooler with wet ice and dry ice, four kinds of fruit, twice as many bottles of water, and real snacks for the anticipated carb attack replaced the cream soda of yesteryear.
The Kindles replaced the paperback books because paperback books are obviously being published with teensy weensy print these days.
The towels would be used for drying off, but certainly not for sitting on. That was way too close to actual sand. Thus, the two four-position chairs.
And the hats, because the sun just isn’t what it used to be either, were also in the ‘to go pile.’
And the tanning lotion of course, because just thinking about going to the beach causes the skin to burn. Was there really ever a time when it actually tanned, and evenly too?
And the mosquito repellant. And the anti-itch cream in case the anti-mosquito repellant didn’t work. And the antibiotic in case the anti-itch cream didn’t work.
And the phone. And the keys. And the lip balm. And the sun glasses. And a real camera to document the amazing amount of fun this was going to be.
And his fishing rod and tackle box, and the optimistically packed bags to tote the fish home in.
“Isn’t it nice that we don’t have to schlep all the toys and things we took to the beach when the kids were home?’ my husband actually said.
He hadn’t seen the ‘to go pile’ yet.
He’d been busy checking on the weather, figuring out when it would be the coolest time of day to have this adventure.
‘Cool’ as in 80 degrees as opposed to 90.
“Ready?” he wanted to know.
“How about we sit on the porch and eat fruit and stay dry and sand-free?” I ventured.
“You read my mind,” he said, and without another word, we started unpacking the cooler.