September 12, 2005


You go and it is so beautiful, upon arrival and exit, without fail, all parties agree we have to come back. Again, in a few days, as much as we can, just smoosh the van with people, next time more people and more swimming and more food until fall freeze seizes our plans.
"We have to come every weekend," says JR.
"You say that every weekend," I say.
We even talk about "next time" we just propose a schedule, announce it via email, for a beach charter.

We were drying in the sun, and playing cards (Uno, I won), and the other ladies were drinking sangria from Solo cups, the Swede burying me with plus-four card draws, Matt and JR, half napping around us, stretched long like cats, bracketing us. Waking up to interject into our girly patter (about trashy autobiogs and the time one of us accidentally modeled a cape with our own feces on it) with a ghost story or rumble out of half slumber to laugh along. Before I Uno'd and won, when I was pounded with a full-dozen of green cards, Matt comforted me, whispering over my shoulder with joke paternal-pep "Jess, it's just a game of chance, there is no skill involved. Don't sweat it, babe. You can do it." Playing your hand with one hand and gnawing melon down to it's rind on the other is the real skill here.

We swam to stay warm in the water, and we ran down the dunes (like flying). On the way up, Matt showed us some method for climbing in sand or snow that he learned on some Outward Bound survivalist jawn B.I.T.D., and we made the travail up the nine story sand slope without having to crawl like a sick animal, which is how it worked for Miles and I last time, pathetic, heavy smoker damage, recalling, panting out a shared anecdote about how in our youth, when we were both on cross-country, inclines this steep as this was piddly shit. We did our snow-foot trick as instructed, Liz and Anaheed (blind sans glasses) and Robin, bailed mid hill, but I went to the top, because I knew it's potential and added velocity from two weekends back. This time I bounded, then jumped hard, which meant I eventually got going too fast and faceplanted then rolled a little, but kept rolling because I could. I got to the bottom and was invisible I was so coated in sand, like some shake n' bake dusted chicken. So, I swam fast as I could, in various strokes, from the dune back to our picnic base camp,, in order to get the sand off me, but I still had grains in my teeth this morning.

Posted by Jessica at September 12, 2005 12:34 AM | TrackBack