Signs you are getting old on LBI

I have compiled a list of signs that you might be getting old on LBI

1.       You and your spouse feel croc footwear is comfortable, and stylish.

2.       For the gentlemen in the group. You need to apply sunscreen to your head.

3.       You no longer hang out at the Hudson House.

4.       An unwillingness to wait an additional 45 minutes to sit with the pig for breakfast at Uncle Will’s Pancake House.

5.       Thundering Surf is not on this summer’s agenda.

6.       Ditto Fantasy Island, regardless of Pay One Price Fridays.

7.       A beach umbrella is as important as a beach chair. Maybe even more so.

8.       You know what tomato aspic is, and order it at the Holiday Snack Bar.

9.       The only house you crash in at night is your own.

10.   You don’t consider temperatures northward of 95, and the winds blowing out of the west, a good beach day.

11.   Your days of walking barefoot over the rocks in front of your home are over. (See crocs in reason #1.)

12.   On Wednesday nights, you never go to the Chegg. In your estimation the discount does not offset the wait.

13.   You know which restaurants offer the 10% early bird discount, and you make sure to be there on time. (Additionally the owners know you by name.)

14.   All sunscreens have a SPF of 50 and above. (Or any SPF that matches your age.)

15.   When you come in at night, you meet your children on their way out.

16.   You use solo cups for soft drinks.

17.   Whenever Kuebel’s has “Golden Oldie” trivia, on Sunday nights, you rock.

18.   Your medicine cabinet contains Tums, Maalox, Pepcid, and Benefiber.

19.   As a woman, you would never walk to the beach in just your bathing suit.  A cover-up is a required item of beach apparel.

20.   And the number ONE sign you are getting old……the Nardi Party Bus is dropping off your kids at night.

The Passing of A Lady

It is with great regret we inform you of the passing of our Lady Kenmore, five cycle washing machine to the great agitator in the sky. Ms. Kenmore lived a long and sandy life (fifteen to be exact), and worked diligently her entire warranty.  She arrived on Long Beach Island in the summer of 1998, and resided there her entire cycle. She is survived by her set mate, Mr. Kenmore, better known by his nickname, “The Shrinker,” as every garment that visits him, comes out a size or two smaller. Ms. Kenmore was a tireless worker, even spinning out the water of the final load, before she conked out. This last kind gesture saved the mom of the house from having to bail out a full tub of rinse water. She was just that thoughtful of a gal.

Private arrangements were carried out (and we do mean carried out) by Sears.com. 

It is interesting to note, that as the delivery men were hauling her away a number of things came to light.  Hiding behind her now silent metal hulk, stood a three foot pile of compressed clothes. We are planning on contacting the “Innocence Project,” as now we realize that the cleaning ladies have been seriously maligned.  They did NOT have anything to do with the mysterious clothes disappearances of favorite summer togs. After a more in depth investigation, it has been discovered that shooting your dirty clothes into the washer like they were basketballs is fine, as long as you don’t miss the shot. Obviously some of our team members were overshooting the basket with some frequency.

Looking at the stack of clothes, reminds one of that scene from “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” You know the one where all the people that have gone missing the past fifty years, slowly make their way off the space craft?  The clothes told a history like layers of stone reveal ancient artifacts. The bottom layer had size 2T bathing suits adorned with Telly Tubbies, along with a smattering of orphan socks. The mid layers held Lifeguard shorts, rash guards, Volcom skateboard t-shirts, and another helping of single socks. The top of the heap or most recent layer chronicles the move from underoos to boxer briefs. Oh, and some more socks. Our family history on LBI, as told through dirty clothes.

The Dad of the home was wondering if anyone (the Mom) ever cleans behind the home’s major appliances.  He was informed that whenever he wanted to pull out said major appliances, disconnect and then reconnect them, a cleaning would take place.  He carefully disengaged from any further tete a tete on this particular subject

We brought home a brand new Lady Kenmore this past weekend. She snuggled right next to Mr. Kenmore, (who, between me and you, is on borrowed time) and picked up, right where her predecessor left off. We are wishing her a long and productive life.

Lady Kenmore is dead! Long live Lady Kenmore!