Don't give me your mountains. Don't give me your parks. In summer, the beach is the only place to be.
A. and I met the birthday crowd--it was Joelly's seventh--in Seaside Heights yesterday under sunny skies and over white sands. The ocean was comfortably warm, and Joel and little "T" loved it. About 5:00 o'clock, we all went back to the apartment ice cream cake. After the opening of the presents, A., M., and I left; I got home a little after 8:00.
Seaside reminds me of Atlantic City in the old, old days, before the casinos. It's crowded, noisy, gaudy, full of rides, games, cheap souvenir shops, artery-clogging food, tattooed teenagers, and every other possible representative of human. I loved it. All this, of course, coexists with the glorious Jersey shore a few yards away, the white sands and rolling surf indifferent to all the hubbub. Great place for a birthday celebration.
Dr. Mark is coming this morning and I want to ask him more about the diabetes thing.