July 5, 2011


These long weekends are making it harder and harder to come back to work. For the first year working full-time at my current job (all of 2010), I never minded coming to work. In fact, I LIKED coming. Sunday night was no big deal, and on Monday morning I got up and packed my bag with an almost-smile on my face. Now. Not so much.
It's more like I need to drag myself into the car, throw myself a pity party the whole way down Route 1, and then crankily stomp across the parking lot.

This weekend there were good meals had at Stuff Yer Face and Novita, a family party, and then an absolutely wonderful afternoon at the beach in Spring Lake, followed by the perfection that is Strollo's Italian ice.

I am just so happy at the beach. So so happy. The minute I get out of the car and smell that salty air I become a little kid and go skipping (past the monstrously beautiful houses) headed for the sand. I lay on my towel and read my book and just keep pausing to looking around, grinning stupidly.  The beach makes me happy.

[It's too bad this photo from yesterday's beach excursion focuses so heavily on the rather large torso of a pale Caucasian fellow]

1 comment:

Linda said...

Ok maybe we are barking up the wrong tree and we should relocate you to the shore! put down your roots near the sand! MAYBE you could scoop Strollos for a living!!