at the beach.

I've just returned from sunny South Carolina a few days ago and that funny limbo feeling is still in my belly - I'm glad to be back to my routine, but I can't help but to close my eyes every now and again and think about the salty ocean air curling my usually frizzy mop into thick, ropey twirls.

I find it difficult to truly relax at the beach. Madness, isn't it? Each time I cracked the spine on a good book, one of my cousins would come scurrying up the beach with a tiny sand crab pinched in his palm shouting for me to have a look. Just when the crashing of the frothy-tipped waves would start to lull me into a trance, I'd see a rainbow colored kite looping and swooping just above my head and I swore I went nearly an hour without blinking trying to follow it.

I do try to soak up as much time in the surf as I can, but as someone who is sprinkled with a double dose of chocolate freckles, it's best that I dip out of the rays every now and again. Once the sun goes down, we head to the boardwalk for sunset revelries and sugar. Lots of sugar. And for little Brady Boo, nothing but the most sour of suckers will do.


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