For the longest time, I was a beach hater. You’re probably are not very surprised. Thinking about the beach made me twitchy. So much sitting around, and staying still. I couldn’t go with friends unless I had a full pile of gossip magazines, and trashy novels to read continuously. Then all of a sudden, right about when I turned 28, I was like, oh… I tooootally get it now. The beach is amazing. The sand, the waves, that salty smell, ha, the sitting still. The turning off. That’s what everyone has been talking about. (Have I mentioned that I think I’m on some sort of developmental delay?)
These days, my beach attention span is definitely longer. I also realized that I wasn’t going to the right beaches. Montauk…well, let’s just say it’s got some right beaches. So, friends, on this Wednesday, this midpoint of the work week, this slightly overcast day, I give you pictures of the beach out on Montauk. Hate me, love me, but I must share. Please love.
I swear, I didn’t hire this dog. He came all on his own. With his owner. Who had a tennis ball. He has a nice life.
These yahoos have got it good too.
Beach, beach, beach, all day long.
Um, yea, we do this, like, all the time.
Sky, waves, sand, and smooth pebbles. My brain is coming out my ears.
Oh, hey there feet. Your toes are wearing the best shade of orange red.
We collected rocks.
We explored the intricacies of sand architecture.
Created a vast empire.
An empire of victory.
And teeny tiny people.
It was like, a really, really, nice day.
