So, the point of the blog is to put writing stuff out there and to occasionally talk to myself. In a not weird way, I swear. It's July and it's Maine, which means summer is really here. That also means lots of lazy time in the sun.
This week, we've been enjoying vacation - it's not a staycation, because we're doing stuff that's fun and not household related, but we haven't actually, you know, gone anywhere. Saves money when you sleep at home and mostly eat there, too.
There were fireworks on my birthday in our neighborhood, which was really cool and helped us decide to avoid them on the 4th. Then, after two days of rain, we spent a couple days on our boat at two of the lakes near our house. Today, we hit the beach. In part because it was nearly 90 and in part because the timing was good for the tides at Popham Beach. If you're ever visiting Maine, check out Popham Beach State Park. Just make sure you plan accordingly, because there is so much beach erosion there now, that at high tide, there is hardly a beach. At low tide or as the tide is going out, however, the beach is huge and really, really fun - rocks to climb, a natural lazy river, waves to body surf, room for frisbee golf or touch football, sand castles to build, plenty of walking and of course, sunbathing/people watching.
So, we head out there and we're super excited. We think, we're golden. We left the house after high tide so we'd arrive as the tide was starting to go out. Except, the timing was crap for parking because we ended up down the road at the Fort and not on the Park beach. Last time the park was full, we went to a campground nearby and parked there instead. This time the campground was full, too. So we went down to the Fort and hoped for the best. We got lucky and found a spot, but it still seemed like a huge bummer - tidal portion of the river instead of the ocean and no realistic way to connect to the main beach.
But then this lovely Boston Whaler showed up and anchored next to the shore near where we sat. Two more boats came and then two more. And on these boats? Let's just say that there was plenty of man candy. Many of them obviously related. And it turned out, they were staying at the house next to the beach behind where we were sitting. Hubby made a joke that the Kennedys were at the beach, and while that probably wasn't completely true, based on the boats alone, they were a group not hurting for money. So there was lots of pretty. And lots of grinning from me.
When you live in Maine, you don't expect to see the pretty on the beach (at least not the men). Chubby French Canadians in Speedos? Check. White guys who haven't been to the beach or outside without a shirt in nearly a year? Check. Dads who don't have time to think about the weight bench when they can think about beer instead? Check. Every once in a while, you get lucky and there will be barely legal boys showing off with their girlfriends. Occasionally, you get guys like the one sitting immediately next to us this time, who was all muscles and tan and...okay, I'm fanning myself. Well, I was, until he started puffing on his ciggies. Ew.
So when hot, tan, shirtless, smoke free guys show up (and okay, there were some attractive women too, I saw that but didn't care much; they weren't draping themselves over the men, so it wasn't distracting), it's a big deal. Big enough that I probably stared way too much. When the husband looks at me and says, "I need to work on my abs," my ogling was noticed. I didn't suggest he was wrong. Does that make me a bad wife?
Best part of the whole thing, though? So many ideas floating in my head for stories! I was checking out Lori Foster's Pinterest board of man candy the other day, in the interest of story prompts or something like that. And I thought, Lord, there is an abundance of beautiful men in the world. But I never see them! Well, today, I saw some. In my back yard, so to speak. Ahem. I debated snapping photos so that I could use them for book covers - they were playing football and frisbee and paddle boarding, jumping off their boats, swimming. *sigh* But first, how do I explain that to the husband? And second, will they be mad if I take their picture and then make money off it? Probably. Which left being content to ogle. And plotting, plotting, plotting ideas in my crazy head.