An afternoon at the beach +
pale skin that hasn’t seen the sun in an embarrassing amount of months (years, people, years) +
redness already appearing +
that lightheaded feeling from too much sunshine on the face +
sand in every crack and crevice that I will be removing until next Spring Break
=
The reason white girl is moving inland to Tennessee.

I was not born to be a beach baby. I have come to terms with it.

And may I add this- whatever power it is that the beach wind has that causes my hair to tie itself in knots and refuse to let go? I need to bottle that stuff and sell it as adhesive. Or a torture device of some sort. If you can bottle wind.

Can you bottle wind?

Ponder on that one until Monday.

P.S- Are you reading The Shack yet? I’m almost done and we’ll discuss it sometime next week. So get to readin’!!