First of all, warning-no pictures from my unbelievably fantastic weekend. Why? Too busy frolicking on the beach with my hubby. I was not about to stop all the fun just so I could take some poorly composed “sloppily-painted toenails in the sand” shots. (So if just reading doesn’t appeal to you, this will be dull. Sorry.)
Kevin didn’t have one single obligation on Saturday: not one! This NEVER happens. We decided to take advantage of this and spent the afternoon at Navarre Beach, which is not nearly as developed as Pensacola Beach (read: no loud, kitschy bars). We spent a lot of time throwing a Frisbee out in the water, which mostly entailed Kevin throwing it and me trying valiantly to catch it, then retrieving it from the waves. Seaweed kept wrapping around my ankles, which kept me in a perpetual state of panic (“OMG something has my leg!!”).
Side note: When you’re going to the beach and planning on doing anything besides lying on the beach perfectly still
breaking your DNA strands tanning, it is important to have a suit that fits. Very Important. *ahem*
When we’d had enough of frisbee-ing, checking out all the cool shells that washed up on the sand, and people-watching, we headed out to Pensacola to try Taste of India for dinner. At the corner where the bridge to Navarre Beach intersects Highway 98, there is a huge Black Cat fireworks tent. This perfectly typifies this area-beach culture meets redneck culture. (Tragically, this leads to the only logical conclusion-scantily clad rednecks. God help us.)
Taste of India is a hole in the wall, at least from the outside. Once inside and seated, the food starts coming, and fast! We both had lamb (vindaloo for me, biryani for him), with vegetable fritters and buttered flatbread. On top of that, Kevin ordered a Kingfisher beer, which we shared. This was no pansy 12 oz bottle. I didn’t even know that beer came in 24 oz bottles! Stuffed and exhausted, we packed up our leftovers and headed for the door. On our way out, my foot slipped on a slick spot on the floor. I caught myself, but some of the vindaloo juices leaked out the side of the styrofoam container and got all over me. Someday, I will be able to both enter and leave a restaurant without making a scene.