Editors Note:


EDITOR'S NOTE: Fresh off a three year managerial stint, your friendly neighborhood lenslinger is back on the street and under heavy deadline. As the numbing effects of his self-imposed containment wear off, vexing reflections and pithy epistles are sure to follow...

Monday, June 30, 2008

Basking in the Lack

Happy FeetIt's Monday morning and your resident lenslinger is totally content. That can only mean one thing: I'm at the beach! Not just any shorline either, but that bastion of placidity known as Sunset Beach. I've barely been on scene 48 hours, but already I've swallowed enough seawater to drive a castaway mad, stumbled through numerous trinket emporiums, gorged on the finest in Southen-fried seafood, plowed through most of Codename Greenkil, cursed my ancestors for making me so pale, decided what to name our future beach cottage (Gritty Britches!), admired the expansive bourbon selection at the island's ABC store and brought shame to my offspring with the kind of ludicrous headwear only indulged in far from home. Yes it's been a tranquil couple of days and if family history is any indication, I'll barely have a pulse by the time we're ready to leave. That's quite the accomplishment for a someone as angst-ridden as I, but it's why we journey to this quiet coastal enclave every twelve months. This year, however, there's a difference...

I got the internets. Wi-Fi, that is. Wedged between that pile of sandy flip-flops and an empty bottle of the wife's Sangria lies a steaming hot laptop - a cyber-connection to the mainland that soothes the intellectual sunburn of your wordy camera nerd - not to mention his fourteen year old instant messenger. Of course my wise bride has imposed a moratorium of sorts on the damn thing, but there's nothing preventing me from rising early for a little pre-java dispatch, right? SSSHHHHH! I think she's awake. Act casual, I'll play it off like I'm checking stock prices or something... Anyway, I gotta go. Just know that as I drag all sorts of suburban debris from the house to the shore to the house to the shore, I'm thinking of you, bored reader. (If that ain't creepy enough, I often do so shirtless.) Once I fish my digital camera from beneath that pile of soggy two-pieces, I'll pop off a few shots of this blissful spit of land and send them your way. For now though, check out this true-life account of Sunset inrigue I penned many moons back - a treasured tale with a clunky title. While you do, I'll be right here, spraying sand off the boogie boards and basking in the lack of deadlines. Can you blame me?

5 comments:

turdpolisher said...

Enjoy the vacation, but make sure you wash all the sand out before you get back to work. I'm sure the suits have a sweaty task for you, and you know what sweat and one grain of sand can do to your first day back.

Brad Weaver, BC Instructor said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Brad Weaver, BC Instructor said...

Blogging at the beach? What's next...live streaming video from your flip flops?

Rosenblum said...

Keep the sand outa the laptop!

Adam Butler said...

Be sure to time your departures just right so you don't have to wait in line for the bridge.