For the past few Sundays, I've been rounding up "the gang" and hitting the beach. Have a couple beers, tell some awful jokes, look at and make comments on the bikinis that walk by all day (sometimes I swear it's like going to one of those sushi restaurants with the conveyor belt... they just keep on coming) and can you blame us?? Not sure what's going to happen this weekend, Matty & Jules, if she's even home from the hospital yet with Jellybean, will probably not be up to a "beach day" just yet anyway.

I think I can count on my available fingers the number of times I've "gone to the beach" in the last eight years (this summer) that I've been down here. It was always an ordeal... make sure you have everything you need, load it into the jeep, drive to the beach, find parking, walk through someone's back yard (basically) and then find a spot on the beach. If you needed anything, or had to go to the bathroom (#1 is ok, the ocean is right there, but god help you if it's a #2) then you were, no pun intended, shit out of luck.

Now that I just have to go downstairs and walk 50 yards, I've spent more time on the beach in the last month than I have in the last eight years.

Cheers to more weekends like that!