I’m going to the beach next week and it will be glorious. Let’s face it, though: a mere weekend by the sea is never enough. Every time we visit, I find myself wondering what my beach town occupation (or preoccupation) would be if I ever followed my heart’s desire and moved there for keeps. Here are but a few roles I believe I could, with some training, be ready to step into:

Sand Dune Treasure Hunter

Apprentice Taffy Puller

First Mate on a Crabbing Boat

Owner/Sole Employee of the Gently Used Paperback Shop

Local Artist Working Mainly in Seashells and Epoxy

Nosy Librarian With a Penchant for Solving Crimes

Campsite Manager Whose Dark and Mysterious Past We Never, Ever Speak Of

Lighthouse Tour Guide Who Just Makes Everything Up

Radio DJ Overly Attached to Playing “Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)” on the Fifteens

Kind-Hearted Proprietress of The Sand Dollar B&B Who Lets Teens Grow Marijuana in Her Backyard

Token Asian

Freelance Wind Chime Artisan

Gassy Lactose-Intolerant Ice Cream Scooper

The HEART and SOUL of the Sea Shanty Society

Editor of the Local News Weekly Obsessed with Exposing Schemes of the Handsome But Shady Land Developer from the Big City

Folk Songwriter Who Just Works on That Same Song All Summer Long

Unpaid Intern/Refreshments Coordinator at the Village Playhouse

Swim Teacher to Neurotic Dogs That Are Afraid of Water

Slightly-Too-Friendly Vacation Home Realtor

Jaded Writer on Her Twelfth Novel Rewrite Mistrusted By All the Townies

Eccentric Who is Morally Opposed to Hunting But Has Always Wanted to Try Painting Duck Decoys For Some Reason

Barista Who Gives Rude Customers the Wrong Times for High and Low Tide

Anything Really, As Long As I Am Locally Notorious and Can Eat Breakfast at the Really Good Diner Every Day

(I also asked my daughter what her beach job would be, and she said “sell seashells and drawings of people.”)