Ahhh, yes, well, you're wondering the same thing I am, I can tell! WHY am I not at the beach? Why?
Let's see, we'll go over the criteria:
1. Gorgeous, hot, sunny July day.
2. Puffy clouds.
3. No obligations or activities requiring that I be elsewhere.
4. Plenty of sunblock and reading material in my beach bag.
5. Car loaded with beach items.
So, where am I? I'm at Pooky Beach, a.k.a., the first floor deck of my apartment. I am watching the smoker. Husband has tucked a seasoned picnic roast into the smoker, and in exchange for my vigilance, I will be treated to mouthwatering, melty, delicious, lipsmacking smoked pulled pork, roundabout, oh, 9PM tonight.
Pooky Beach has a lot of advantages, including wireless access, a conveniently located loo, cold beverages, and a nice breeze. No waves. I have to fault it for that.
And, on a side note, last night, I was transported back to my senior year in high school/freshman year in college. Husband and I attended The Police reunion concert at Fenway Park. It was hot, muggy, disgusting, amazing, loud, incredible. I wouldn't have missed it.
And to think I almost did.