barnegat, part one.

{we named him frasier}.

{every morning the inlet would be blanketed with fog}.

{crab corpses littered our roof. poor guys}.

{great minds think alike}.

{used in the filming of this movie}.

My life, my health, and my entire sense of inner contentment would be enhanced if I lived in walking distance to a cafe. This, my friends, I am convinced.

A charming, perfect, cedar-sided cafe now resides a mere stone throw's away from the marina of my childhood memories. It is small, with a occupancy limit of 17, but even I question that 17 would fit. A little loft apartment where the world's luckiest person lives sits on atop, undoubtedly with the best views of the sunset on the bay. What combination could be better...the taste of freshly brewed coffee, with a hint of sea salt and fish grime in the air? (ps. I have a weird love for the fishy smells at the marina).

The cafe was actually a long walk away. I would say 30 minutes one way. But oh, it was worth it. I jogged it once but by the time I was there I was so hot that I had to settle for an iced coffee (2nd choice to my usual hot coffee, which I took during the week - the only week of the year - with sugar in the raw). It would be even more picturesque with a bike. Put me on top of a little mint beach cruiser, like the perfect one above, it would take 15 minutes, tops. Oh, and how my life would be so, so good.

Living near the marina, the lighthouse, and the inlet was pretty awesome. I could go and stand on that jetty for days and never be bored. How could one be bored? Sailboats, seagulls, crabs, sea urchins, bugs, fishermen, speedboats, fishing charters, storms, fog, rain, sunsets and sunrises and the fish would all keep me truly entertained. Just watching. Each little crevice of the jetty has its own story. On our first night, we met a crane named Frasier by the rocks. He was just chilling, gingerly stepping from rock to rock, searching for food or just posing for us.

Other days, pretty much every day, we were treated to front row seats to the crab gallows. Watching a crab get slaughtered is a solemn, yet gladiatorial, affair. Instead of the colosseum we were on the flat, sunbleached rooftop deck. Seagulls would glide on over and land with a  feisty, gutsy little blue-claw in-beak. Then, it would poke the life out of it - literally. It was awful and fascinating. Crab legs littered our roof. The boys played hockey with them, ugh.

Before the vacation, I looked forward to wine on the deck in the evenings, watching the sun sink below the bay. But I have to admit that my favorite parts were, without second thought, in the mornings. When the fog would blanket the inlet heavily, so that only the masts of the fishing charters glided in the dim shadows of the morning. When we would walk (or run) to the cafe. When I would wake up at 7am, fearing to death that it was actually 10am, then, in a relieved excitement, go about my morning routine.

more tomorrow! ciao, xo.