This weekend the Wyatts are packing up & heading to the Florida panhandle to spend some time getting crispy on the soft white sand, despite liberal applications of SPF 300. No, that's not a typo.
It's a regular trip for us with the same group of friends, and we do the beach well together. Normally it's 4 couples, but over the years, the group has grown. This time, we have 13 adults and 2 kids stuffed into 2 condos. It's our usual condo, across the street from the beach and a great restaurant.
We also have a regular local who handles our beach chair rentals. He looks like a cross between an old Malibu surfer and a fine set of leather luggage. George Hamilton would feel pale next to this guy.
It will be Helen's first trip to the beach. She was a mere week late for the last beach trip two years ago. I cannot wait to show her the beautiful shores of the Gulf of Mexico, where I spent all of my beach vacations as a kid. I'm crossing my fingers that she doesn't freak out and we don't end up at the pool instead.
But either way, I could really use a handy rip in the space-time continuum to get past the long drive with a toddler. I don't think there's enough Twizzlers in the world to get us there and back without a meltdown. From me.
Wish us luck - and I'll post pictures when we get back.