Finally after a super busy week and a very successful garden tour yesterday complete, I had today, this perfect summer Sunday to get to the beach. My ever patient beach and life partner kindly got the umbrella ready and secure (umbrellas are a must now that I am over the five-o mark). Shoes off, towels down, chairs placed- sunscreen on, followed by my hat (which is also now a must- post 50). I grabbed my beach earrings from my bag, (I can’t go to the beach without earrings and lipstick) and put them on, tarnished from the many beach trips and salty air and sand. I looked around to search out the familiar faces because kind of like season tickets to Fenway, you get to know the regulars. After recognizing the one woman who I call crazy chick, I sighed with the delight of the familiarity of it all. I sat myself down with my pile of magazines and a cooler full of food, ahhh… my beach ritual, tried and true.

Sundays are super crazy at the beach and as much as I love the beach (I seriously could go every single day from 9–3 if I could) Sundays are not my favorite day. Too many people, too many tourists, too many families of the regulars, but like a trooper, I suck it up. After all, this “complaint” is a luxury problem and I laugh at the notion that I would even dare to differentiate a “good” beach day. Aren’t all beach days good — great, actually? I know I am returning back to my sassy self when I hear the first blaring note of a deep base beat coming from the couple in a matching polka dotted bathing suit. They had just driven their dinghy from their big ass boat and not only unloaded pretentious beach equipment, but two very cute, but very yappy dogs and a special dog umbrella to protect them from the blaring heat. And before I knew it, one of those portable Bose type speakers to play their techno crap.

When the second dinghy arrived with another group that polka dot couple seemed to know but didn’t sit next to each other, the sounds of their conversations hummed my way along with the technobeat. “If they are going to have full blown conversations, why don’t they sit next to each other instead of screaming their talking across from each other?” I impatiently stated in a kind of factual annoyed statementy kind of non question. I mean does anyone have any type of beach etiquette anymore?

There is a list of unwritten beach rules that are just part of your fabric if you have grown up anywhere near a beach in your life. The first one besides not smoking, thank goodness this isn’t allowed anymore, should be noise level etiquette. No yelling, no screaming at your kids or your partner, no loud music- definitely the top if the list for sure. I mean why is it that someone thinks their music should be the defining entertainment for all to endure? Today was an unusually odd day because it seemed like no one got the memo that dogs are not permitted on the beach. I love dogs, but if you are going to break the beach rules and bring your dog to the beach, please make sure he or she is not a yapping one that disrupts the beautiful sounds of the waves crashing at the shore and the seagulls flying overhead. On top of the three families who brought their dogs, the yapping from all was followed endlessly by the sounds of “Shhhh. Stop that. Quiet. No.” about a thousand times.

I tried to look at the positive side. I am at the beach. This about sums up the positive. Doesn’t get more positive than this simple fact. I am at the beach with my boyfriend. I have a one hundred and forty dollar beach sticker on my car that I can afford so that I can go to my preferred beach with my partner. I have a cooler full of organic food from Green Grocer in Portsmouth, RI and pies from Sam’s Bakery in Fall River, Mass where I drove to at 8:00am this morning because I am alive and healthy and I could. I am at the beach ELEVEN WEEKS after a seven hour surgery. I am at the beach rocking a kick ass body because not only have I a stellar new set of bad ass ta-tas, but I have been working out and eating clean for almost 4 full weeks straight and feel stronger than I ever have for real.

How’s that for a positive spin around? I sat there starting to go south with my feeling personally offended bitchatude and took a big fat pause. How dare I? I have a friend who just got a really shitty potentially fatal diagnosis and I am guessing she would really appreciate one day on a hot beach with loud music and a set or two of yappy dogs. So I stopped myself. I stopped my feeling of self-righteousness and entitlement and I said thank you. Thank you for the gift of another Sunday at the beach. Even though the peripheral folks were breaking my self proclaimed beach rules, I don’t have to feel personally offended by them. The fact is that their behavior has nothing to do with me UNLESS I LET IT. My life as it stands today with my Wonder Woman lovely bad ass attitude is how do I want to spend my precious time thinking and being.

Two great quotes came across my inbox today sandwiching my day. This one started me off from my dear friend, Chris; quote by Dr. Robert Holden

“The miracle of gratitude is that it shifts your perception to such an extent that it changes the world you see.”

Then this great quote ended my day in the universal timing it usually does by the Matriarch of Positive Thinking, Louise Hay,

“I do not fix problems, I fix my thinking. Then problems fix themselves.”

I simply must let the “stuff” go. I can’t control it. I can’t allow it because it impacts my health and I choose health over nonsense and drama that has nothing to do with me. So when I go to the beach again, I have so many choices. I could bring headphones, I could meditate, I could send love and light, I could ignore the bullshit or I could choose to stay home. Whatever I decide to do and think is up to me and me alone. I just have to catch myself when I start to go south in my head, the rewards of doing so are really the stuff that makes a beach day truly spectacular.


“my” beach on a not so busy day.

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self proclaimed lover of all things beauty, business + lifestyle, I write because it feels good.