Oh gosh, what a busy weekend! On Saturday the Fiasco and I headed down to Long Island to visit my family. We spent the day driving and then swimming and hanging out by the pool, which was lovely. On Sunday, we went to Robert Moses State Park on Fire Island, the beach of my youth. I always tease the Fiasco because he thought the beaches here in Connecticut were “real”. They are not “real”. They are sandy little spits of land covering bedrock bordering Long Island Sound. They’re pretty and they’ll do, but they are small and calm and contained., like Hole-in-the-Wall Beach shown below.
|Picture from here.|
It is not very large and is bordered on each end by rocky headlands, it’s a good example of a “pocket” beach. But the barrier beaches off the south shore of Long Island are huge, wild, and fierce.
|Photo from here.|
Dropped by the glaciers eons ago, they are miles and miles long, backed by sand dunes and surrounded by water. That photo doesn’t fully convey the size of the beach, it’s probably easily a few hundred times larger both length- and width-wise than any Connecticut beach. And if we’re being honest, sizes matters. You need that huge expanse of open land to really feel the awe of the ocean. And because it is a nationally protected seashore, there is no development on that part of the island. I didn’t realize how special that was until I lived in places like Florida, Virginia Beach, and Connecticut where the entire coastline is developed. You’ll have a lovely beach with a strip of giant hotels or apartment complexes just behind it, it’s not right! Long Island is not a perfect place by a long shot, but it does do its beaches right.
|Who doesn’t love a little map action?|
Anyhow, all that is to say that 1) I didn’t take any pictures of my own this whole weekend (bad blogger!) and 2) I’ve hardly knit a thing in 3 days (bad knitter!). And what did I do with my evening instead of blogging or knitting? I played a role-playing game for the first time in my life. I am now officially as cool as all those pimply, lonely, 13-year-old dorks rolling dice in their parents’ basement you see in stereotyping TV dramedys. Except I’m doing so with my Fiasco, my future brother-in-law, and a couple of their friends in their garage and we are thankfully at this late stage of life largely acne-free. I am playing the part of a Native American plant shaman and am having an unexpectedly good time with it. (For the curious, the game is Rifts.)
What’s the dorkiest thing you’ve done today, or ever?