THOSE ARE THE BREAKS

So each year, I look forward to certain things with great anticipation.  Obviously, Christmas is one of the tops on the list, as I get to see family, have egg nog and, of course, get time off of work!  Outside of those general types of holidays, I absolutely LOVE going to the beach and to my yearly 311 concert at Walnut Creek.  I think I was born to live at the beach, but since I don't, I have to make pilgramages to the holy sand.  David's mom has a timeshare smack on top of the beach in North Myrtle, a place where I can watch Jerry Springer on the couch WHILE watching the waves crash down.  It's a slice of heaven, I tell you.  With it being a timeshare, we go the same week each year, and her week is always the beginning of August.

My other indulgence is the 311 concert at Walnut Creek.  This occurs every July and it is SO MUCH FUN.  It's the one time where I engage in adult drinking and then bop my head, jump up and down and scream lyrics to songs that I love to scream lyrics to.  I would go to more concerts if I could, but this is the one that I insist on.

So, it seems we have a predicament.  A dilemma.  A problem that has no real solution.  I've already missed a ski trip this year, and the river trip, while great, could have been much better.  Baby Perry is supposed to come in 2 months.  I am large.  I am puffy.  I probably would not react well to heat.  I cannot drink.  All of which makes the predicament less so, as I really am not sure the best time would be had at 311.  I cannot drink or jump or likely do much bopping.  My time at the beach is spent with pomegranate martinis, banana boats and laying out in the sun all day.  I am not sure I can do too much of any of those things, especially in August.  In North Myrtle Beach.  I can think of few things I'd rather tell Baby Perry than "I'm sorry darling, you were born in Myrtle Beach and that's why you have that tattoo on your arm."

Yes, it appears that the end of my summer will have me laying around the house like Jabba the Hutt, rather than a 311 groupie and beach bunny. 

So.  Sad.