All Quiet on the Jersey Shore

This weekend we made the 1.5hr drive to the Jersey Shore. I had always heard the words “Jersey Shore” as a Texan and pictured the filthy, overly spring broken, refinery crusted beaches of Galveston for some reason. For my non-Texan readers, you cannot imagine what they call a beach in the Lone-Star state.

I am glad to report that I was delightfully surprised. We stayed in a 5 bedroom, beach-front bungalow, complete with king-size Tempurpedic beds and gourmet food.

Some time after eating the 2” porter house steak, but before playing whiffle ball on the private white-sand beach, I remembered what summer vacation used to be about. The surf was a bit too rough for extended swimming, but we did take the obligatory plunge once.

Most of our time was spent enjoying the breeze, the umbrellas, and the books.

I did contract quite a sunburn. I look something like a pink grapefruit. This made the 2hr train ride home rather uncomfortable. Small price to pay I guess.

I must also mention that our pleasure this weekend was provided by the same folks as the aforementioned penthouse and brokered by friend Julie B.