Summertime

I love summertime at the beach! Vacationers arrive on Saturday, pasty and eager. By Sunday they're sunburned but happy, lounging in the sun or (if they're smart) under colorful umbrellas. Kids (and mom) digging in the sand. Everybody from surfer-dudes with washboard abs on custom boards to old, fat farts who shouldn't be wearing Speedos) on plastic floats playing in the waves.

On my morning walks in the past month, I've passed several weddings and a couple of funerals (or at least remnants of memorials). One of the weddings was a middle aged couple getting married just as the sun rose. Their joy emanated filled the air, and made me cry. (Yes, I cry at weddings of people I don't even know.) I've been asked to take pictures of several family groups who are always eager to tell me what fun they are having.

Every time I hit the beach, people drive by taking videos. For a person who hates to have her picture taken, I shudder to think how many strangers' vacation pictures feature me walking by. I hope I radiate how happy I am to be there.

All this playing outside has put a crimp in my word count, but how can I stay inside and focus on making up stories, when I can go outside and see real stuff like this?