Which is why spending three nights down on the Texas Gulf Coast felt oh-so-right this weekend. It was true and utter bliss. A little slice of heaven. Temps hovering around 90, a solid sea breeze, the smell of salt, cute hubby, good friends, country music and the latest edition of Texas Monthly. I'm pretty sure when I die, that's where I'm going (or at least, that's what I'm requesting).
|I realize seagulls, like pigeons, are rats with wings. |
But at least these rats with wings mean the ocean is nearby.