Before we go to the beach, we watch the 10-day forecast like bloodthirsty hounds. Sun. Sun. There had better be sun. No wind, please. A still countenance would be preferable. Warmth goes without saying. Rain? Oh no. We allow that for only one day. (That's the day we eat a later, more leisurely breakfast, laze in our PJs, watch Chocolat and, aptly, drink hot chocolate with chili pepper and real whipped cream.)
We pray, we do native sun dances, we obsess. But really? Just get me to the seashore. I'll be a happy gal.