I just finished watching my favorite Dawson’s Creek episode. The one where Pacey and Joey get locked into the big Kmart store, and have to use the Pj’s and toothbrushes from the shelves, get to watch movies on the plethora of tv’s agains the wall and, at the end of the night, share a sleeping bag on turf next to a tent and fake grill. I could watch Dawson’s Creek from the first episode to the last, over and over until there are too many scratches and it gets too frustrating to try and fast forward through the glitches.

Aside from Dawson’s Creek, there are not many lovey dovey things I like these days. I’m not sure how I switched to heartbreaker and how it stuck so well, but I think it’s good for the time being. I prefer Lone Ranger, anyway. I even had to stop reading a book this spring break, for fear I might vom on its public library pages and have to pay a fee for such a terrible book. But then my diet coke exploded on it so I guess fate has its own intentions. I picked it exclusively because the cover was wonderful. Judging covers and recommendations are my two best book reading strategies, and this was the first time judging the cover has let me down.

Sadly, it was also the only other book I’d brought with me on spring break to Alabama. My whole plan for the break was to read a pile of books and make the perfect bloody mary from scratch. I ended up reading one book and had only one bloody mary from a mix. fail. I did get to do a bunch of other things I was looking forward to, though. Because Spence came, my friend from high school and good family friend, we got to take the boat out!

With my parents having met through sailing, I’ve always had a respect for boats, and docks and anything marine related, but it has also created a huge dependence on my dad, the captain. It was only this past summer that I finally had my first sailing lesson. And though I’ve seen my dad take out hundreds of boats, motor and sail alike, I had never been captain. I surprised myself this week. I remembered the bay as if I’d grown up there; Pirate’s Cove—the best chicken strips and onion rings—west down the Intercoastal, Sand Island—a natural erosion phenomenon perfect for sand boarding—east down the Intercoastal, minutes after the giant bridge and 30 minute No Wake Zone. I navigated our way through the channels as if they were the streets of my old hometown neighborhood. While fishing in the posted area, everyone cast out their lines and I took the wheel. Someone would get a bite and the fish would take off hook-in-mouth. Like hunters I steered the boat to loosen the slack, and the fisherman reeled in the line. We tried our best to tire the fish, but each time the line broke, and our dinner swam off with a free shrimp dinner. Better luck next year..

We only got lost once but after remedying my rusty directional judgement, we ended up making it to “secret beach”, pulling the boat onto the sand from the bay and running over to the other side of the strip to confront the ocean. We laid down towels, and turned on Real Estate as the boys ran off to amuse themselves with the waves, a guitar or the football. Ferrell and I sat on the towels eating chips and pineapple with sandy hands, taking pictures of each other with our analog cameras while the verse sang about the same beach we were synchronously making our own.

I think that was my favorite episode from last week.

I’ll post pictures after they’re developed Saturday!