It's been a very long time since I have just gone to the beach locally - not on Mexico or in some exotic place, just the familiar shore. If you grew up in the Northeast, you know what I'm talking about - one of those weekends on the Jersey Shore or in Long Beach. Small towns that blend into one another, one main drag lined with small shops and a couple of blocks stretching off it lined with closely spaced, old-time summer cottages. A wide, sandy beach, sometimes framed by a boardwalk. You find your plot of sand, and you set up shop, unloading beach umbrellas, chairs and towels, finding a shady spot for the cooler. Settle in, warm up, and head for the surf. The water's a perfect temp, and even a little rough, with wave after wave cresting as it reaches shallower water. You dive in, and in, and in again, into the wave. Boogie board or body surf, if you time it right you can ride the wave almost back to the beach. The wave throws you under sometimes, and you get sand in your suit and swallow the salty water and come up sputtering - and you turn around and do it again.
Hours later you gather your things and stagger the two blocks back to the house. A shower never felt so good, sluicing off the accumulated sand and suntan lotion. Off to the wine shop and then the small market for some last minute supplies. Grill an enormous grass-fed London Broil and lots of organic summer veggies, and dig in with a big salad, crusty bread, and summery red wine. Finish off the meal with a selection of ice cream and grilled organic fruit.
Things get even better if you decide to spend the night when you find out there's an extra bedroom for you. Then it's time to change and go out on the town - the bar scene's perhaps not quite as enticing as it was 15 years ago, but it's still lots of fun. Back before 2 and sack out to wake up to another perfect sunny day.
Strong black coffee, enormous organic local breakfast sausage links, eggs, sunny side up, give the right energy to hit the beach once again. The surf is calmer today, but still with a big wave once in a while to ride into shore. The water temp is absolutely perfect and you dive, dive, and dive again and then return to sun and sand, with the ceaseless crash of waves giving rhythmic punctuation to the hours slipping by too quickly.
Ride back home in a convertible, wind whipping through your hair and the music makes you want to dance. We don't want the weekend to end, so we go to the butcher, buy enormous steaks, and everyone comes over for a little more grilling, a little more relaxing, a little more wine, and a little more time with friends.
