Finally our first beach day of the season.
I am a Sun Worshipper. Yes, I know tanning causes cancer. I know it will age my skin. I know I’ll be all scary looking when I’m 50. But I have another 9 years so, for now, I can live with the fear.
I remember when I was an 18 year old university student at UBC, there was a beach within walking distance of my dorm called Wreck Beach. I don’t know if it’s still like this, but when I was young(er) it was a nudist beach. It was home to, what I can only assume were homeless naked people. Every once in a while, we’d see them come into our dorm houses to use our showers and bathrooms. They were dubbed “Beach Creatures.” I would look at these people in awe. What a life. No job. No studying. No responsibilities. Just laying around the beach all day working on their tans.
During this year, I was in mad mad love with a guy (well, I had been in mad mad love with this guy for several years, and had actually followed him to UBC). He also loved the sun and would rock a wicked tan from the second the sun was strong enough to brown his beautiful soft skin…wait…having momentary lust flashback…
Ok. Think I’m good now.
So anyway, I would imagine myself and this guy running away together, leading this nomadic nude existence on Wreck Beach, our beautiful naked progeny following us down the beach while we searched for shelter for the night. Great visual, right. We could have been like Ma and Pa Ingalls from Little House on the Prairies. Only naked.
Anyway, now, as the mother of four children who are usually clothed, to make up for the short summer, I’m at the beach as often as I can. I quite literally flop down on my blanket, and stay there until the sun starts going down. As a matter of fact, today, my youngest son momentarily went missing. I know, you’re thinking what a shitty mom I am. Well, it’s not like he drowned. I just couldn’t find him. When I did spot his little head bobbing out in the surf, I didn’t like how far out he’d gone. So I walked out to the edge of the water, and called out for him to get
his little fucken ass himself closer to shore.
When I got back to the blanket, my oldest said, “Were you scared he had drowned?” I was like, “Well, he’s gonna drown if he goes out that far. The bottom of this lake dips.” Oldest smart-ass says, “You were scared. I could tell. In all the years we’ve been coming to the beach, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen you get up from the beach blanket.”
Shut up. Mouthy little fucker.
Le husband, Wayne, is not an avid beach person. He says he likes it. But I don’t believe him. He kind of perches himself in the middle of the blanket, almost like he’s scared one of his body parts well get sand packed in it.
Unlike me, he never really fully relaxes stretched out on the blanket, toes wiggling in the hot sand. I’ll just lay there for hours. I don’t even have to talk (I know. Unbelievable.) But he seems bored.
He positions himself precariously in the middle of the blanket trying to keep himself busy. It’s actually funny the things he’ll do to kill time.
This is him checking emails on his Blackberry. Notice the strategical position on the blanket.
I know, a tad porno, but how fucken cute is that!