Whoa.
I have a new love and it's called the bay. And I'm not talking about the Canadian shopping center. Apparently, that sometimes confuses people. Why I would be spending hot summer days at a Canadian shopping center as opposed to the bay, as in Birch Bay, is a mystery to me. Well, OK, so it's not really a mystery, per say, with my infatuation with shopping and all...but I digress.
So I've said it before and I'll say it again, in life, it's not WHAT you know, it's WHO you know. And I know people. And these people that I know have a house at Birch Bay. And I've decided that I want to live there. Forever.
This was how I spent my Friday...
Just look at the beautiful rocks clothed in seaweed and other surprises from the sea. Shudder. We're not in East Hampton anymore, sweetheart.
And now, on the count of three, we are all going to jump off these rocks, make a funny face, followed by a nice, graceful landing.
Or not. Oops. Three of the four bit the dust. Hard. I do not recommend jumping onto seaweed in Crocs. Lesson learned.
You know those nice, clean clothes that we all just put on? Not so clean on the derriere. Just don't sit down. On anything.
We got back just in time to get our prime seating for the sunset. We didn't want to miss this:
I have my bags packed and labeled "Birch Bay or Bust."
I want to know how much Birch Bay beach a beach babe could bask in if a beach babe could live on a beach at Birch Bay.
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