Some musings as I learn to navigate the laptop keyboard while reclining in my hammock . . .

Yeah, those are my feet . . .

As many of you know, I am residing in the Outer Banks, in particular Kill Devil Hills. I’ve been here since June 20 and will tearfully depart at some point mid-August (for you burglars out there, we have a house-sitter). Anyway, it’s a difficult time but I’m trying to cope. So now, I’d like to present some totally random thoughts on life at the beach.

First off, your musical preferences change. I’m a big REM fan, have seen them several times since ‘84, blah-blah-blah. Love ‘em. But . . . they are not listening material at the beach. They’re just not. Neither is Zep or The Who. It pains me to say it, but my beloved Eels miss the cut as well. No, my friends, the beach requires a different vibe. Sure the obvious choices are included - Buffett, Marley, The Beach Boys, Jan & Dean, even Kenny Chesney. "Hot Fun in the Summertime" by Sly & the Family Stone is a must, and I enjoy listening to Carbon Leaf down here as well. Toss in a few singles like “Carolina in My Mind” by James Taylor or “It Must Be Summer” by Fountains of Wayne and my summer mix is set. Best winter pickup - wireless speakers I can take to the porch or to my beloved under-the-cottage hammock. Heaven.

Secondly, I gotta say your perspective gets a bit skewed after a while. You know, when you have nothing to do for a few weeks in-a-row the little things get magnified. For an example, one summer I think I watched “Eight is Enough” at 1:00 every afternoon for 8 consecutive weeks. At one point this conversation actually took place while I was watching a particularly intense episode:

Marianne: “Hey, where do you want to eat tonight?”
Me: [silence]
Marianne: “HEY . . .”
Me: “QUIET! Nicholas is in trouble here! The kids at school are picking on him, dammit! "

You get the idea. Another year it was “Quincy.” This year it’s “Workout”, the reality show with all the lesbians. On a related note, I'm becoming quite attached to that interior design show with Vern Yip. Vern Yip is cool.

Next, I must admit my grooming habits tend to change dramatically. You know, there are long periods of time when nobody is here but us two, so who am I to clean up for? I mean really? The other day one of the dogs tried to roll around on me so I thought it may be time for a quick shower. In addition, shaving becomes secondary. Sure, the dome stays clean as a whistle, but right now I’m sporting a spectacular neck-beard that is starting to draw stares. I really need to address that ear hair though.

Finally, those of you close to me are aware that I have been known to enjoy the occasional adult beverage. Out here on the big sandbar, as the weeks roll by, happy hour tends to move up. And up. And up. O.K., actually happy hour is from 5:00 P.M to 4:59 P.M. There, I said it. Which reminds me, my glass is empty . . .

At this point I must be off. The Raw Oysters at Awful Arthur’s are calling me. The only question is, should I shower? Let’s see, the dogs have stayed off me today. Nah . . .