A few weeks ago, my friends and I hatched a plan to drive out to Jones Beach for an entire day, which you may remember is on my summer to-do list…car was booked, work was requested off, sunscreen was stocked up and beach essentials were purchased. Mother Nature, that fickle creature, had other plans for that day.
I got a text last Tuesday asking if I'd looked at the forecast…so I wincingly checked it to see a high of 75. And rain. Lots of rain from Friday til Sunday, so we cancelled the car and rescheduled everything for this coming weekend, and then guess what? It barely rained! Sure, the sun didn't come out much, but I don't mind when I'm dozing on the beach to the sound of gently crashing waves and chatter of happy people (this weekend: high of 85 and NO CLOUDS). Bring it, weekend.
Since I had to figure out what the heck I was going to do with my weekend, I opted for the next most logical decision to beach: brunch (part of the three B's, the third of which is booze…a little different than the ones my sorority banned during initiation week: boys, booze and bars. I'm clearly a sucker for alliteration). I visited an old favorite in my neighborhood and a new place I'd been wanting to check out for ages in Manhattan—all accompanied by my new favorite summer accessory, the backpack (the fourth B in this equation). Can someone explain why it took so long for me to jump on this trend? I sure can't.
Inside my bag for the weekend: camera (obvi), my latest summer book, a few magazines I haven't gotten around to, my external mophie charger, makeup bag, sunglasses, actual glasses, an apple and Organic Avenue grapefruit juice. Not only does the bag hide the exorbitant amount of sh*t I find myself carrying around on any given day, the straps equally distribute the weight and I barely notice I'm carrying 15 extra lbs around with me, which is usually split between an overstuffed bag on each shoulder. I'm thinking a classic leather one is next!
