Loss of a Trusty and Loyal Towel, Or, My First Bonfire on the Beach

So after, oh, 9 months living here I FINALLY made it to the beach with some of my friends!

Beach bummin it

Dan and I arrived around 2, but one of my roommates, the birthday girl, and another friend got there at 9 in the morning to reserve a spot.

The girls had already made a sandcastle, so we mostly chatted, waded and swam, and napped as Dan played guitar.  We also made some beach beverages and tried the supposedly "phenomenal cheese strips", according to the morning lady supervising parking, but they only turned out to be rectangle tortilla chips with unmelted shredded cheddar on top and enchilada sauce on the side.  I read a bit, but the afternoon seemed to pass by simultaneously quick and slow.

Others at the beach were having full on barbeques, playing baseball and football, or having Cinderella battles with kites:

Yes, two full grown men had a PRINCESS BATTLE (one of them yelled) 

After a few card games, others slowly started to arrive.  It took a little bit to get the fire going, as we initially forgot starter and the wind was sort of strong.  I took a walk on the beach to grab shots of the sunset and talk with a newer friend.  Unfortunately, while I was gone no one saw an ember land on my favorite 8 year old towel, burning a hole in its previously flawless composition (I was slightly distraught, but no one seemed to understand my plight. Rude.).

Seeing the sunset over the ocean still seems like such a vacation possibility - I'm more used to trying (and failing) to wake up early to see the sun rise over it.  When I first moved out here, I wanted to start the road trip with a sunrise over the ocean, and end it at Santa Monica Pier with the sunset.  Neither happened.  It was horribly cloudy both mornings we had the option to leave and we were so sick of driving by the time we got into Cali and we had to drive south 2hrs to my Uncle's, it just didn't seem we could bring ourselves to take another hour's detour.  

Both on the east coast and the west coast, my homes are between an hour or two away from the shores, but I wanted to see the very ends anyway.  I guess I thought I couldn't really say it was across the country until I saw the very ends of both, where the land met the ocean.  The end of something can only be defined as what it no longer is, and sometimes what replaces it. 

After the sun went down, we roasted marshmallows and others joined us.  We told stories and jokes, played with cameras and talked about what we loved about the birthday girl.  Maybe it's just nostalgia, but I love the way people look in firelight.  It reminds me of my family reunions as a kid and older, of sharing who we have been and who we are without any fallacies.  I know that's a golden perception, but one I'm willing to buy into.

Unfortunately the beach closed at 10pm, so sooner than I would've liked we had to pack up and go home.  I hope to make that trip more often this summer, starting out earlier hopefully.