When I am in England, I will miss my beach house in Long Beach Island. My grandparents bought a little yellow shack on a half empty street surrounded by marshland in the 70s. In the eighties my grandpa built it into a three story house. In the ninteis he died, and my grandma moved there permanently; she had a whole lot of rules. In the oughts (2000-2009), she died, and my mom, her sister, and her sister-in-law moved in for the summers. It became a party house.Here is the beach house in its early years. I am the adorable brunette baby, and that is the only picture of me you will see internet... unless we are friends on Facebook.
As you can see, I had a handful of cousins. We were not allowed in the house after a day at the beach until we showered. That makes sense and all, but since I was the youngest one, I had to stand outside and wait for 5 or 6 showers before I could have mine. Bugs would attack me, the sun would burn me, the water would lose all pressure, all the good Lipton iced tea would be drank leaving me only Crystal Light, and the sand on my body would create new and fun rashes. It was like torture! As an adult now, I only need to hose off my legs before I enter the house, relax in the shade, and enjoy a beer.
I will miss my family because this beach house is where we all go to be together. We are very close for an extended family that lives as far north as Rhode Island and as far south as Virginia. LBI- right in the middle. I could tell stories about how awesome my family is and how awesome my beach house is, but I fear it would not be funny. It would be bragging. I will just show you pictures.
Above is the street in front of our house.
You can see the bay as well as my family having a mini
parade to celebrate the Beer Olympics of 2010.
This is actually the opener for the games.
Above is my mom on my uncle's boat in the bay
watching a dolphin jump out of the water.
Above is a classic sunset as viewed from our deck.
Above is our deck.
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