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Thursday, July 8th, 2004 10:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rolanniHome again, home again. Can I have another week at the ocean right now, please? Didn't think so.
Let's see. We walked all over the "seven miles of sandy beach," several times, as well as up into town, across town, into and around Playland, &c. I beat![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kinzel at Skeeball and demonstrated to my own satisfaction that Dance Revolution is neither for the fainthearted nor the middle-aged.
There were fireworks displays on the beach four nights in a row, of which we attended three. I'd like to say that catches me up, but -- alas. Call me a fireworks slut.
Nice weather -- warm enough but not too warm, and only one day when it was really too cold to go out, splash and around and otherwise make an idiot of myself.
A large extended family traditionally vacations at the Skylark over the Fourth; we may have been the only non-family member on our side of the building, so the kids did the rational thing and adopted us for the duration, a circumstance that made our stay more home-like forkinzel, who grew up in a let-us-say enormous extended family, with kids, cousins, uncles, ex-wives, -husbands, and -girlfriends indiscriminately mixed around. Me, I grew up in a small Roman Catholic family where none of us talked to each other, and never clapped eyes on an ex-anything until I was all grown up myself, much less an adult with a beer in his or her hand.
Still, the whole thing was fun, in a noisy, chaotic, sugar-jagged sort of way.
Didn't do a lick of front-brain work, though the backbrain informs me that it has Several Ideas Pending, When I Have a Moment? (insert glyph of backbrain tapping foot impatiently). Suppose I ought to go start a load of laundry and call the meeting.
Let's see. We walked all over the "seven miles of sandy beach," several times, as well as up into town, across town, into and around Playland, &c. I beat
kinzel at Skeeball and demonstrated to my own satisfaction that Dance Revolution is neither for the fainthearted nor the middle-aged.There were fireworks displays on the beach four nights in a row, of which we attended three. I'd like to say that catches me up, but -- alas. Call me a fireworks slut.
Nice weather -- warm enough but not too warm, and only one day when it was really too cold to go out, splash and around and otherwise make an idiot of myself.
A large extended family traditionally vacations at the Skylark over the Fourth; we may have been the only non-family member on our side of the building, so the kids did the rational thing and adopted us for the duration, a circumstance that made our stay more home-like for
kinzel, who grew up in a let-us-say enormous extended family, with kids, cousins, uncles, ex-wives, -husbands, and -girlfriends indiscriminately mixed around. Me, I grew up in a small Roman Catholic family where none of us talked to each other, and never clapped eyes on an ex-anything until I was all grown up myself, much less an adult with a beer in his or her hand. Still, the whole thing was fun, in a noisy, chaotic, sugar-jagged sort of way.
Didn't do a lick of front-brain work, though the backbrain informs me that it has Several Ideas Pending, When I Have a Moment? (insert glyph of backbrain tapping foot impatiently). Suppose I ought to go start a load of laundry and call the meeting.
