Bonfires and Sea Anenomes

The first thing I'm going to do when I get a car is drive to the coast and spend the weekend trolling the beach in the giant blue coat I bought from Goodwill, making sand drawings and picking up interesting creatures. The sand fleas will prickle my ankles, and wet grit squish beneath my chilly feet. I'll be all legs and jacket and rustling blonde hair in the beach wind. Nights will be spent coaxing log fires to gently toast skins of mallow, slightly squished from my flannel pocket between car keys and sea shells. I'll eat them in layers, gnashing crispy skins between my teeth, crunching on salt and sand. The undulating vastness of the great Pacific hypnotizes while the sea fog plays a slow technicolor light show as the sun passes behind it. Seals bark lazily on their small island beyond a black rock jetty. On my way home, I can't forget to pick up saltwater taffy from Flamingo Jim's treasure trove of tourist goodies. It's family tradition.