Margarita mentioned it, as did Goodboy Norman Featherstone, who, for a pug, is quite observant. Not that Margarita isn’t observant but she is, after all, a human. With a college degree. She should be able to formulate sentences.
Nathan’s family owns the most impressive beach house I’ve ever stayed in and they were gracious enough to share it with us for the extended weekend. I didn’t grow up going to the beach (I only remember going twice my whole childhood: 1987 to Virginia Beach and 1992 to Duck, NC) and haven’t quite grasped the appeal of it before this trip. My impression of the beach was this: airbrushed t-shirts, fat people in small swimwear, overpriced crappy beer, jelly fish, sunburn, lethargy and sand invasions. Not impressive.*
But this trip was relaxing, peaceful, delicious food, microbrews, bocce/root ball games, great conversation, love, dogs, naps and the general feeling of a contented sigh. I shucked oysters with Ian and Nathan, stunk up Wii baseball with Margarita, read on the deck outside my bedroom while the morning tide let out and played fetch with a few very dirty and happy dogs. Waking up to waves is like waking up to love: the sound like safe arms, the salt like warm breath. The first thought one of peace and safety, comfort and hope.
I could get used to that. 
*I’d like to give a shout out to the
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