I’m officially the age when I can’t remember how old I’m turning, but I’ve figured it out just in time. 44! I can no longer claim early forties.

The other day Captain was hard pressed to remember what town we live in, so that’s what happens in your fifties.

BB, my first baby, is 10! I don’t know if it’s harder to believe she’s 10 or that I’ve been living this mom life for 10 years now.

I’ve been living this blog life twice as long and it has taken me twice as long as usual to get a post out.

Decamping for the Cape, a holiday weekend and two birthdays will do that to a person.

Plus there’s limited early morning peace for me on the Cape, which is my ideal writing time.

July 4th I set my alarm, but I didn’t even need to. I popped up on my own at 5:45am.

Last July 4th I got to the beach at 6:30am. There were plenty of waterfront spots open, but someone was already in “MY SPOT.”

I was not about to let that happen again. I understand that it doesn’t really matter, but it matters.

There’s always room on our private beach BUT that would mean having a wall of people between us and the water.

No thank you.

We’re the second house back from the beach, so if I’m awake, there’s really no reason to not drag some chairs down. I could be writing at 6am or I could be making sure I have MY SPOT.

Not only did I set up my spot at 5:52 am, but our dear friends had left their cabana with me, so I set that one up too.

I offered to put up the cabana of our other wonderful friends who haven’t joined us for the 4th before, but they declined. They said he was getting up early anyway, so he’d be down before me.

To each his own, but I wondered to myself, “How is he going to know where to put the cabana? He doesn’t know where MY SPOT is.”

I also thought, “Jessica, you’re being ridiculous.” But also, “If he picks the wrong spot, I’m not deviating, so if they spend the day several cabana spaces away, so be it.”

I’d like you to know that at 5:52am I was NOT the first person setting up shop, but you know I got my spot.

Also my presence has become a barometer of sorts. Our friends in the waterfront house told me that when she sees me, she tells her husband,

“Jess is down there!” And he knows it’s time to put chairs out.

Without me, people would have to rely on their own time-management skills.

On July 4th, just as I was finishing setting up our two cabanas, the third friend showed up. His wife had warned him not to get there before me, because he wouldn’t know the spot.

I have never felt so seen. There’s a correct spot and everyone knows there’s a correct spot, even if they’re not sure where the correct spot is.

It’s a residents’ beach, so everyone has a spot and if you’re not in “your spot” everyone will ask why you’re sitting somewhere else. And everyone will feel compelled to explain why they’re sitting somewhere else.

If someone you were hoping to sit with sits somewhere else, it can really throw off the whole day, because then you need to decide if it’s more important to sit in the spot you want, or with the people you usually sit with.

Sometimes the people you usually sit with divide and some people are in one spot and others are in another spot and then it really becomes clear where people’s allegiances lie. Or it may only signify their tolerance for high winds versus protection up by a dune.

July 4th is another story. I don’t know where all the people come from but they’re not around the rest of the summer. And they take up a lot of spots.

When I was a lifeguard on these beaches, the head honcho was the Recreation Director. There must’ve been a reorg because now there’s this guy walking around:

If I were looking for a summer side hustle, and if it were possible to be the Beach Director for just my specific beach, I’d be interested.

I know the Beach Director is not in charge of making sure people sit in their “correct” spots, but I’m sure they could if they wanted to.

All anyone has to say is, “Piping plover” and the prime spots clear out.

Now that the 4th is over, I’m back to a relaxed morning set up. But not so relaxed that I have time to sit and write. Nor am I setting my alarm to catch the earliest writing window.

When BB meanders out around 7am, she asks,

“Did you take the stuff to the beach?”

Unless it’s terrible weather, that’s just about all I need to hear to get a move on.

It might be possible to write a blog from my spot on the beach, it is a great spot, and conducive to many things, but writing does not seem to be one of them.

My favorite spot to write is in my corner of the couch. The only person I’m fighting with for that spot is a very feisty cat.