Sons of Beaches

Hiatus started for John so we took a little seaside jaunt. We stopped along the way, for what we call "Crazy Picnic," a term coined back before we had kids to denote the drive-to-the-beach-really-early-while-it's-kinda-drizzlie-and-overcast-to-eat-sausages-with-Barkley kinda days we used to have. I can't imagine going to the beach that early right now. Bananas.

The beach was fun, in photographs, in reality it was so windy we spent a lot of time chasing our stuff down. The boys also spent a lot of time stepping on stuff. Hartwell stepped on a plastic fork tine and Beckett stepped on a tiny hot coal that got away. Lucky we had our bag of Old Indian Tricks*. Along with a flashlight full of beans, John found a special foot rock that helps to heal foot injuries. So the boys rested their bloody and burned feet on it and instantly felt better.

We finally got to the hotel and Hartwell never left the Jacuzzi. Beckett was too cold and wanted to sit inside and watch TV. And was puzzled as to why he couldn't just watch whatever he wanted, but had to watch whatever was on TV. Did not see that coming with my no network TV situation.

Anyway, good times, including a restaurant that had a coke machine that offered 5 different flavors of Diet Coke and a stop at a biker seafood place where Hartwell muttered, "Where's the crab? I didn't come all this way for shrimp!"


*Racist Placebos