a day at the beach

I was gonna tell you about how I had a long walk this morning but managed not to slip and fall on any of the ice that was everywhere, and about how my new down coat--did I tell you I bought one?--kept me nice and warm even though I have buyer's remorse and kind of hate it. However! Fuck the winter report. Let's have a nice summer post.

What brings this up, Andrea? Okay. I was thinking about Mr Indemnity's blog comment to my previous post, which I had time to read but not reply to, and what I would have said. I *would* have said, dude, you have no idea how close you came last Christmas to buying a poor family a sheep when I was looking for a sheep-related gift for you. But I successfully deduced that Mr Indemnity would have been sad not to get some stuff, because he likes stuff. But then I couldn't remember what I did get him for Christmas last year. I was thinking it was travel scrabble, but no, that was the year before.

And then the thoughts of travel scrabble made me think of the reasons that was an appropriate gift, and I decided I wanted to share with you all how Mr Indemnity and I go to the beach. Because it's pretty funny. There's a ritual involved. First of all, Mr Indemnity' Significant-ish Other does not like the beach, so he always has to procure other friends to go with him. Since I, even though I am the whitest white girl in North America and have effectively no melanin at all, love the beach, I can usually be convinced to go if I am free without much, if any, cajoling. And here the ritual comes in.

First of all, we only ever go to one of two beaches: Devereaux or Cranes. If we are going to Devereaux, we first stop at the Shaws in Salem; if Cranes, the Shaws in Beverly. There we procure food. This food usually includes (but is not limited to) the following: grapes--preferably green, a bag of baby carrots, humus, mini muffins from the bakery, and chips (always Lays in the yellow bag, even though Mr Indemnity says those are boring; I tell him you do not mess with perfection and if he wants to buy gourmet jalapeno barbecue sour cream kettle chips, he is welcome to, but I'm getting the Lays). Basically, we buy snacks for four hours at the beach like we were going on a three day road trip.

When we get to the beach, we spend 20 minutes applying sunscreen. SPF 8 for Mr Indemnity, SPF 1003 for me. Then we spend an additional 5 minutes of Mr Indemnity mocking my SPF and me telling him his spray-on sunscreen is stoopid. Then we break out the snacks. We need to sit there long enough for me to get really, really, really hot, because that is the only way I will go in the water. If we are at Cranes, we then (after I'm sufficiently warmed up, so to speak) take the long, long, long walk down to the end of the beach where the sandbar is, because as I have mentioned to you all, the water is ten degrees warmer there. This enables me to go in chest high and perform any nefarious deeds I need to. If we are at Devereaux, the water is always cold and I am in and out quick-like without reaching waist-high. This is no problem, because they have convenient bathrooms there.

After we get out of the water, we adjourn to our beach chairs again for more snacks and travel scrabble! I always have to keep score, for what reason I don't know. But I then always get cranky because Mr Indemnity and I have the same first initial. It's a damn good thing we have different last initials, because I would not be able to fit our whole names on the teeny tiny place they give me on the travel scrabble scorecard. Also, I always win. Mostly because I will not let Mr Indemnity cheat, like he does when he plays on (the evil) Facebook with his other friends.

After many hours, it is evening and time to go home. At least, I want to go home and shower the sand off. Mr Indemnity's always like, "Want to go get dinner?" To which I reply, "What is wrong with you? We've been eating all afternoon." So then he tries to entice me to go for a beer or ice cream. But not both together. Because--and if any of Mr Indemnity's other friends are reading this, they will back me up--once he is out for the day, he is out for the day and the evening. He's never, "Oh, look at the time, I gotta go." No, he's all "Oh, that was fun. Let's do something else!" All my friends have their own little endearing quirks, and that is Mr Indemnity's.

So usually I get talked into beer or ice cream. Because, c'mon, it's beer. Or ice cream.

And that is your beach story. No down coats required.

xoxo