I have a quiet moment at the beach house. The family has gone out to get sandy. From the front room I can see the pelicans dive into the ocean and the only noise is of the construction going on around us with various loud power tool noises. We have the worst beach house we have ever had. It's small and there is no privacy on the porch over looking the ocean. Rick, of the enormous belly, and Shawna, of the bleached blond hair drink bloody mary's for breakfast next door but fortunately seem to retire early instead of having drinking friends over late at night as I had feared.
My sister is in the hospital with pneumonia which casts a sadness over the holiday, but the 16 to 3 year olds liven up the day with constant games and phone calls. So far they are not bored with each other. Anya can't wait to see the cousins and immediately takes on the persona of a teen, refusing to give it up at bedtime and succomb to the rules. Ewan is mostly agog and aghast and a follower at three.
The beach in Florida is all pastel during the day, light blue/green ocean and sky with pale clouds and drifting gulls and diving pelicans. The waves hardly break the ocean is so peaceful. I love being near the water and feel calm and happy. Honey baked ham, orange juice, chips, a little beer or wine in the evening and no need to go out into the concrete car ridden world of strip malls and a Publix on every mile long block. There are two pockets of comfort. The beach house and Cara's, the rest of Largo is like anywhere USA only warmer.