A Toast to the Coast

A long time ago, I decided and then made a pact with myself that if there's going to be an extra day in the year, I'm spending it on the beach. Which works out well, since that extra day is always in February, and I can go get some well-needed rays.

So, that's how the Barnacle and I found ourselves in Heaven's Waiting Room, aka The Gulf Coast.

We left Philly at an ungodly hour and caught the Phillies' Spring Training Plane. Seriously, I'm happy I'd inadvertently wore red that morning. Although, since we had to awaken at three-thirty in the AM to make that flight, I don't know how I even managed to dress myself at all.


We flew into Tampa, leaving behind coldcoldcold temperatures, landed and disembarked to a very chilly forty-two degrees. Didn't do too much for my demeanor. But, you know Florida, no matter what, it always feels like the first day of Summer Vacation, when the whole world is right in front of you, and you have all the time in the world to enjoy it. Warmed me right up.

When we finally cruised onto Anna Maria Island, it was seventy-eight degrees and sunny. We spent the whole week hanging out at the docks, watching the boats to come in, eating our weight in fresh-caught grouper and mahi. We picked oranges and lemons and mangoes right off trees located by our screen door. We ate them on the beach, watching the gulf, getting all sticky, then running to the water to rinse off. We got some well-earned sun and away time. I learned some of Life's Great truths, too. Like, if there's a large black man sweating over a huge smoking oil tank, basting whatever's inside with a kitchen mop, it'll be good. Just eat it. Especially if the box it comes in says, "Have a Blessed Day," handwritten in Sharpie.

So, on February 29th, 2008, as the Barnacle and I watched the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico. From our beach chairs, we toasted our good fortune with a Corona and limes picked from our very own tree. Yeah. Life's good on Our Boat.