The beach weekend was really nice, in spite of a couple of minor catastrophes. My parents have a little house in Port St. Joe, FL, a little fishing community where we've been going since I was about 12. (To the town, that is--the house is new--well, new to us. We used to have a little condo on the Gulf, but the beach was eroding at an alarming rate, and so my parents decided to sell the house before it got washed away in the next hurricane. This one is inland and not fancy, but my parents have fixed it up inside so that it's very pretty and comfortable, the perfect little vacation house.) Adam and I took our friend Jen and the bad, bad dog and met my high school friend Rachel and her boyfriend Sam. We all frolicked on the beach and swam and read our books and got sunburned and cooked shrimp and drank margaritas--and occasionally, I am sorry to say, watched the satellite t.v.
The catastrophes were:
1. The bad, bad dog bit Sam.
It was really horrible. I had already gone to bed, and the dog got afraid of a thunderstorm and holed up under Sam and Rachel's bed, and then when Sam reached under the bed to get her she bit the shit out of his hand without so much as a warning growl. It was bloody and bad. The dog has never done anything like this before--she loves people and is always goofy and friendly. I think that she might have been kind of dehydrated (she wouldn't stop drinking the salt water) and disoriented. Luckily, poor, sweet, suffering Sam was up to date on all his shots (as was the dog), so I didn't have to spend another Sunday in an emergency room waiting for somebody to get a tetanus shot.
2. I got sun poisoning.
Remember when I got that hideous facial rash after a day at the beach? Well, I had it again when I woke up Sunday morning, so I called my dad (who is an ER doctor), and it turns out that its sun poisoning. I can't help but feel that this is a sign that I just don't belong in a subtropical climate. I love the sun, but it won't be my friend, so I guess it's time I just gave up and moved to Seattle. Stupid Celtic ancestors.
Anyway, we all survived, and the bad, bad dog really loved the beach and had the time of her life, so I can't be completely sorry I brought her. On Sunday we got to the beach late in the day, because it rained all morning, so that at sunset I was floating in the ocean, looking up at the orange sky, and feeling (in spite of the hideous facial rash) that all was more or less right with the world. I wished I could have stayed longer.
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