Author Archives: Jorie

About Jorie

🌴 An Island dreamer with a passion for palm trees and Caribbean turquoise water. Few things speak to my soul like having my feet in the sand on the coast of somewhere amazing with salty wind blowing through my hair. 🌴 🌴 Sandonthebrain is my way to hold that feeling all the rest of the days when I am not on an island. My collection of sand and affinity for rum, and island flavors helps to take me back...until the next trip. 🌴

Tropical Blooms (Slideshow)

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I am always in awe in the islands when I see such beautiful flowers that just naturally grow there; fragrant plumeria trees on Oahu whose blossoms fall to the lawns and land on the beach…. seems almost wasteful; a sunny yellow hibiscus bloom at the Dole plantation… just as much part of the destination as a pineapple whip, no?; the hot pink bougainvillea at the Hell attraction (ironic?) or the assorted blossoms at the Queen Elizabeth II Botanic Park  on Grand Cayman. And every summer, while the weather is right for them, bright hibiscus and intoxicating gardenia on my  own”Tiki Deck”.

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Rum Ball Goodness

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For all the years of holiday baking there has been a consistent must-have on my list: the rum ball. If you are fan then you covet the section of the cookie tray holding little bites of the “spirit of Christmas”. If you’re fortunate, you get a tin of them for your very own self.

The recipe I traditionally used called for the typical crushed cookies, nuts, cocoa and rum. But it used light corn syrup and was not very easy to handle. Sticky and gooey, it required hand washing after every 10 or so rum balls were rolled.

This year Uncommon Caribbean shared a “Bad-Ass Cruzan Rum Balls” recipe with a few differences that I was looking forward to trying. Read the rest of this entry

Bringing Back Bits of Beach (…and the perils of doing so)

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Have you ever been paged at the airport? In a foreign coutry? It’s odd. It takes you much longer to recognize your own name.  My husband left me in the food court while he popped over to the gate to answer the page.

…. Wait, before I go on, let me back up two years before then….

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Snowmen At The Beach (Slideshow)

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I love the irony of snowmen (and snowomen) at the beach.  I’ve had these little beach snow figures for many years. Each holiday season I unpack the storage bins and they bring a smile to my face…. I think they have the right idea!

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Beach in a Bottle

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Do you know Jim Croce’s “Time in a Bottle“? (You Tube of this song)  Granted, I was just a wee toddler when it came on the radio, but it’s an old favorite of mine. For one thing, I actually “never seem to have enough time, to do the things I want to do, once I find them”.  (Take note: this rather meek blog of mine.)  Then too, the idea of capturing time in a bottle somehow rings true to most people. Doesn’t it?  Imagine your sweetest memories… who wouldn’t want to preserve them.  And there never really is  enough time. So it seems, with Sand on the Brain as I have it… that I save time in the form of Beach in a Bottle.  It must be the Psammophile in me.

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Like footprints in the sand… washed away.

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Like footprints in the sand… washed away.

My blog is Sand On The Brain because I am quite often island dreaming and mentally somewhere with sandy shores and turquoise waters. When I need a more visual escape –but don’t have the luxury of hopping a plane — I do what I think many of us do; pull up (our out) the vacation pictures. After all, why do we take pictures in the first place? To hang on to those moments for a little longer, for a lifetime, for those moments we want to clearly remember.

Maybe you transfer your pictures to your computer to make room on the memory card for your next trip or event. Maybe that computer crashes and can’t be recovered. Maybe is not “maybe” for me.  Read the rest of this entry

Psamm(ophile) I am.

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Psamm(ophile) I am.

I would scoop it on a beach; just a little scoop from each…  

          Scoop it in the scorching sun; scoop it while I drink some rum.

Scoop it here and scoop it there; from the comfort of an old blue chair.

         A tiny scoop, a souvenir…. from places far and places near.

Scoop it from a Michigan Dune; scoop mas from Mexico late in June.

           I’d scoop it up from Seven Mile; apparently I’m a Psammophile. 

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Lunch Time Dreaming

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Lunch Time Dreaming

My ham and Swiss Panini is good, but the cheese is no longer as melt-y as it was before I sat on this park bench. It’s lunch time. It’s not chilly enough to need to be bundled up, but it still is not exactly what you would call warm. It’s early March.  It doesn’t matter. I’m lost to all; deeply immersed in a glossy turquoise edition of Caribbean Travel and Life magazine. The cover pulled me to the feature story on page 36. “Beach, beach and more beach” it warns.  I already know its going to be hard to go back into the office. <Sigh.> Read the rest of this entry

Wish I Could Blame it on Trade Winds

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I wish I could blame it on trade winds; those calendar pages have just blown by!! Sadly, the passing time has been eaten up instead by too much time at the office. When I have busted the shackles and escaped from said cubicle I have pretty much just vegged out at home.

One thing I have accomplished in the last year is booking plenty of time perusing the Internet. I’ve gone from barely knowing the term “blog” in 2008, to starting one in 2009 (hey, signing up and naming a page is a start, right?)…  Read the rest of this entry

Saltwater and My Soul

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“Lulled by the gentle, hypnotic rhythm of the surf, humbled by the vast number of stars in the sky.” – Me

Mexico – June 2009

We arrive at the resort in the late afternoon. The usual check-in process, and then off for dinner and a walk through the grounds to see what is new. It doesn’t matter which path we take or direction we walk. The destination is the same;  the beach.  Back home, humidity of this level would be cause for complaint. But here, on the beach the air isn’t “humid” it is somehow silky and of the sea.  The wind is strong – almost pushing its way into my lungs. “Breathe me in!”  The sound of the water is roaring – we can’t see the beach yet, but the sound is there. Calling us to continue down the boardwalk. Read the rest of this entry