It's time to face facts...

...the truth of the matter is we are boaters, because we suck at the beach!  No joke.  We got up at the butt crack of dawn for the three hour trek to Miami Int'l Airport, providing there is no construction or traffic (of which there always is).  Mom made her way through the security check point, relatively unscathed, albeit a bit flustered in the process.  She called about forty five minutes later to say she finally made it to her gate- after three escalators, one elevator, and a train ride- whew!  It was a good thing she had more than an hour to collect herself before boarding. It was a direct flight. She made it safely home, and Stephanie was there to pick her up without incident!

Meanwhile, we were navigating our way through Miami traffic, making our way to South Beach.  We have been there many times, and have stayed in some pretty cool boutique hotels in the Art Deco district.  South Beach is famous for people watching, and watching people who are people watching!  We saw our fair share of ta ta's today, as per usual.  And we saw all of the buff handsome men who were with other buff handsome men, also as per usual.  It's South Beach; what more can I say?  The one thing I do love, is how international the scene is.  I counted at least five languages I recognized, and a few others I didn't.  Anyhow, back to the point of the matter, we suck at beaches.

Scene 1. It all seemed to start out ok, as we were enjoying a good read...

we enjoyed the scenery...and even a pleasant walk down the beach....

As we were returning to our beach spot, Donnie went in to the ocean for a 'swim' (to relieve himself :).
By the time he returned, the power of suggestion struck my one kidney and weenie bladder, so I strolled to the water's edge to also "see a man about a horse", or "pee like a herd of turtles" or "drain the lizard"...ok, enough of the euphemisms. You get the idea.  Let me begin by saying that I had on my sunbathing suit, not my swimming suit.  I got about waist deep, minding my own business, doing my business (I think- I really don't remember) when a gigantic wave hit me full force, sending me rolling end over end back onto the beach...with my top around my waist, and my bottoms down to my knees.  I'm choking, spitting, trying desperately to dress myself, when the undertow sucked me back out only to roll me some more, end over end, de-pants me again, and spit me back up onto the beach. Ridiculous.  I looked for my husband for a little help, but he was engrossed in his novel, as you saw in the first picture.  I had to wade back out in that mess to try and remove the sand from my ears, my nose, my hair (which was tied up, but I lost that, too) my everything.  I looked like a drowned rat by the time I made it back to the blanket.  He looks up at me and asks if it's time for lunch?  Hmfph.

Scene Two.  I make sandwiches; we're having a pleasant picnic at the beach...

Until I reach into the potato chip bag, and a seagull swoops inches from my face and steals my sandwich right out of my hand.  I naturally scream, then all h**l breaks loose as thirty more seagulls join the melee.  I was left with a half a piece of bread and a piece of lettuce.  Fine; I didn't need the sandwich afterall. My honey hands me a rice krispie treat, and I lay back to snack on it, all stealth-like, so the flying rats don't steal it, too.

Scene Three.  All h**l breaks loose for the second time, in a wicked downpour.

The beach clears out, people are running for cover, umbrellas are flying in the wind.  I say, "Screw it.  I'm not leaving."  Besides, I needed to get the sand and salt rinsed off of me.  After a good 15 minutes of hard, cold rain, (this was no sprinkle) the sun peaked out, just enough to dry our bodies and warm us back up.  Nevermind our blanket, towels, and everything else we had with us was soaked.  Just as I am no longer dripping wet, and my fingers have thawed, I look out on the ocean only to see another front getting ready to move onshore.  For the second time, we say, "Screw it." and we packed up, and headed for the car.  We suck at beaches.

Only the plus side, we scored at Divers Direct for three items on our "to get" list, and we had a great meal at Cracker Barrel.  On the return trip back down Highway One, we had a God moment today. It was a Celestine Prophecy kind of moment.  I cannot give the details away, as it really isn't my story to tell.  But you know how when something happens, that leads to something else, and there is this string of coincidences and connections, that leaves you realizing that this was much bigger than some mere coincidence to begin with?

Yeah, it was like that.  A perfect God moment.

And we pulled into Banana Bay just in time to witness the second
 perfect God moment of the day.

So, I have already washed and dried the soppy, salty, sandy mess we trucked home.  I put the groceries away from the Super Walmart trip in Homestead, and let a Willis out for his nightly prowl with the riff raff.  I watched Survivor tonight, only to be disgruntled, embarassed, and disgusted by this pathetic tribe of women they have this season.  Don't get me started on THAT.

Tomorrow the hubby is going fishing, and I am giving Marquesa a thorough scrubbing.  I cannot wait.  No seriously, I cannot wait.  A clean smelling and organized boat = one very happy First Mate :)  We are having a fish fry neighborhood party with the folks on Angler Drive at 5:00pm.  Things are looking up; no beach tomorrow for me!

G'nite y'all :)