My entire house is filled with sand. My car is filled with sand. My garage is filled with sand. I'm surprised there's any sand left on the beaches of coastal Georgia. Summertime is official.
I'm leading the Bible stories in VBS this week for preschoolers (shoot me now!) and one of the daily lessons is about being thankful. As I was writing out the lesson at home and asking the usual "What are you thankful for" questions for the 3 year olds, I was answering the questions in my head and realized how thankful I am to live where I live. I have a standing date at the beach every Friday with my kiddos. Then of course we have to add in a day (or two) on the weekends so Daddy can come along. And toward the first of the week I get a jonesin in my bones to smell the salty air and we make our way back. The beach bag NEVER gets cleaned out because I just add to it every few days, occasionally switching out beach towels if they start smelling rank. The most used wardrobe items around here are bathing suits and each of the kids has at least 5 - just in case the washing machine (and all sinks) explode and we need to beach it for a week straight. Always prepared...just like boy scouts.
And when we vacation, where do we go? Further south. To other beaches.
I hate that I have to jealousize all my peeps who live away from the coast, but just know, dear peeps, that not a day goes by that I take my beach-livin' opportunity for granted. I hereby state that I will do my best to serve my fellow coastals in attending beach days at consistent available weather-permitting times. Ne'er will I take that for granted (except during a hurricane when I may be calling for a place to stay). This is my solemn vow. I'm a former Brownie so it counts.