Feet in the sand

Why have a blog with "beaches" in the title? Why not. As you can tell from the photos and links, I like large bodies of water with waves bordered by warm, sandy areas. Sorry, but rivers don't count. Neither does water in my basement. Really hate that. Northern beaches on Great Lakes are acceptable in a pinch, hence the state parks pass on my windshield.

I don't know where this surf and sand obsession came from, but it's not going away. I wouldn't consider living somewhere without waves nearby. I mean, growing up, how do you learn which direction is east if you don't have a large body of water as a geographical reference?

As a teenager in the 80s, I listened to surf music: Jan&Dean and the Beach Boys. Not too many high schoolers cite the highlight of their summer as hanging out backstage with aging surf musicians. I've since expanded my repertoire to include Jimmy Buffett. Live.

A co-worker just returned from Hawaii, where she tried her hand at surfing. I soooo need to do that. I know I'll never run my hand along the inside a Pipeline in Hawaii (a girl can dream), but standing on a board probably would be thrilling enough.

All this talk about beaches is making me want to plan a beach vacation or a relocation. My next post on golf carts will tie up all the loose ends. Yes, it's all connected. Well, it can be. I just need to figure out a way to make it happen.