of empires

Yes, I woke up to watch the royal wedding of Prince William and Kate.


I'm awake before six in the morning anyway, as the boys get up to get ready for school every morning. Just typically, I remain in bed a while longer doing that mom wants to sleep just a while longer but has one ear open to what's going on in the house thing. 


This morning, I took over the TV at six. Captain Comic was not pleased, as he usually is watching cartoons or funny animal videos while he downs a giant bowl of milk with some cereal in it. I was just in time to see Kate get out of the car in her gorgeous Princess Grace styled gown. I thought it as soon as I saw it, before the media started discussing that. Let's just say I have a distant obsession with weddings in general and gowns in particular. I am continually amazed at how the music and the pageantry, even when there is not much of it - which of course, today there was - just turn my eyes into waterfalls. I can't control it for anything. Go figure. I acted a bit of a goofball at both of my weddings to try to avoid the tears like the plague. It only worked a little.


Mr. Cynic and Captain Comic peppered me with royal family questions.


Mom: Look, there in the yellow hat is the Queen Elizabeth II, the Queen of England and (switch to punctilious voice) Ruler of the British Empire.


Capt. Comic: The British Empire?! There are still Empires?! The only Empire I know is the Galactic Empire! You know - Star Wars?!




I just want to add that with all that pageantry, etc, I thought W&K looked very sweet and comfortable with each other. And that is really what that whole to do was about: love.

sixteen

My first born turns sixteen today.

Fall 1996, Gaga & Papa's house in Ct.

Tears start now.

Not because I'm sad, not because so much of my life has passed in that time, not because I mourn the passing of his childhood.

But because I am very proud of the child becoming a man before my eyes, as only a mother can know. Love keeps cracking me open to my own vulnerabilities and strengths that I discovered through growing him inside sixteen years ago and watching him grow, as best as I can without interfering with his fully realizing himself.

16 on 16:

1. He's a very old soul, and a very old soul is he.
2. He sneezes a lot.
3. He plays a mean electric bass.
4. He's teaching himself guitar.
5. He smirks, always.
6. He sings, really really well, competitively well.
7. He writes songs.
8. He writes books, has since he was in kindergarten.
9. He's fragile, in good ways.
10. He's strong, of spirit, not so much in body.
11. He is very very protective of those he loves.
12. He oozes into furniture, merges, becomes one.
13. He's kind of a space cadet.
14. He has a very dry wit. (Hence calling him Mr. Cynic here)
15. He has good hair.
16. The girls think he's cute, kind of like a pocket rock star.

I love him very much, and I like him, too. He's pretty darn cool. And speaking as his mother, I'm kind of glad he's still a pipsqueak.

Valentine's Day 2011, He let me do this.

I love you, K-Bear, Happy Birthday. 

read through

Writing group met yesterday, and it was small, only two of us. It was comforting to hear J typing away on her new idea, even a bit inspiring.

I was still stuck in the midst of that stubborn chapter I last complained  explained about being stuck in so I decided it was time for me to go go back to the beginning with a read through.

It worked. I finally finished that dang chapter and can move forward. The next chapter or so are my Wednesday goal.

As is baking a birthday cake for a newly minted sixteen year old as of Thursday. Yes, I shall gush that day, be forewarned.

gardening love

I love to garden. I didn't say I was good at it, but I love it. Sometimes I am orderly and plan ahead well, other times I get ideas. Yesterday involved a bit of both.

First, I have been neglecting the front flower patch's needs for a while and second, I really needed to redo the driveway pots. Captain Comic has picked all the leaves off of two sets of small evergreens, first juniper, then vertical japanese boxwoods. Some of the storms we've had did the final damages. We have flower pots with something tall in them so Grandma and I can navigate around the brick borders of the 'bridge' over the culvert. We can't see them from our five foot two and three perspectives as we back out of the driveway.

Before: if you look way in back you can make out what I am replacing.

These are the pots, new plants,some homemade humus in the wheel barrow

 and some good potting soil with food.

After: left side of driveway, five leaf Akiba.

After: right side of driveway, Carolina Jasmine.

I planted white Star Jasmine which grows on my fence near the wisteria in my backyard a few years ago.

Yes, the brickwork is broken, no I didn't do it.

 It was like that when we moved in. 

One of these days...when I get a Round To-It.

Anyone remember that old 70s truck stop souvenir? Tap-Tap?

I liked the little bird trellises at Lowe's garden center, and they were the cheapest thing that wasn't plastic and still fit my idea for replacing the evergreen skeletons.

Self-portrait of a gardener

I looked down at one point during mulching and discovered I was covered in dirt from head to toe.

Life is good. Go plant something and watch it grow. 

easter aftermath

Have you ever tried to get three families' worth of kids of varying ages to pose together for a holiday shot? This was one of a handful of choices, all fell into the category of close enough. My favorite high school English teacher always said,"that only works in horseshoes and hand grenades," but I believe it's apt for group shots, too. 

We gathered at friends' new home, seriously, they moved in Saturday, and we tried to help but showed up a bit late because it took me that long to empty and clean out my van. So I showed up in a dress with all of my kids and Honey, on Easter morning, and promptly decided I would move their bookcases into a different room. We were there for an Easter egg hunt. 

To back up a bit, we had a weekend full of family, my in-laws galore, not just the ones down the street, we hosted visiting aunt and uncle. Also in Grandma's generation, was a vacationing cousin and all of his nine teenage granddaughters, his daughter, and his wife who were staying in Virginia Beach. So when I joke about the in-law invasion, there's a bit of truth to it, at least in sheer numbers. Thankfully, I was lucky enough not to get the full dose of the nine teenage granddaughters. I managed to only meet two. I can't say the same for Grandma and Toots who got a full dose with a botched and whiny trip to Busch Gardens and Colonial Williamsburg. It'll remain in family lore for generations, I am sure. 

There was also a 50th birthday party for a friend this weekend, which was packed with cake and pies and Easter breads and a potluck, maybe two. I've lost count. And of course Easter baskets galore. I hopped on the scale this morning - hopped is a loose term, it was more of a floorboards creaked trepidacious step - and I have gained five pounds this weekend - even with helping with the move!

Toots love her twirly dress and enjoyed modeling it. Pardon the blur, I wasn't awake yet. I don't think the camera was either.

A lot of sugar was eaten, and not much else especially by a couple of my kids who would have done better to get some more protein and veggies in them over the weekend, and maybe a bit less candy and pies. There was some major sugar fallout this morning. Not that I should say anything, see confession above about gaining five pounds. 

But a weekend full of friends, family, food, fun and sunshine is worth a five pound gain. 

It occurs to me that with the amount of cookie posts, etc., I should have a food tag, shouldn't I? Someday, I'll backtrack and find all the baking and cooking posts and add them to it, but the food tag starts now. :)

I regret I did not get a pie picture. Grandma and her sisters really outdid themselves with the Easter pies this year, and I believe that is mostly to blame for culinary lapse of reason. Auntie B's homemade lasagna may have had a smidge to do with it, too. And the vat of pasta a fagioli I made Friday night, and, and, and......peeps for one. 

Time to get back into an new exercise routine....

all nine kinds of pies

 "But there were all nine kinds of pie that Harold liked best." 
                                                      ~Crockett Johnson, Harold and the Purple Crayon

Easter with my in-laws is full of pie. On Friday, Grandma stood at the stove and stirred Italian cream in the double boiler by the batch. She got a workout and a half stirring homemade sweet Italian cream, at least three batches of vanilla and one chocolate. She also made two ricotta pies. Her sister from the DC area brought pies galore, and her sister who lives down the street made quite a few, too.


Let me see if I can catalog them all:


Grandma made:
1 Vanilla cream pie
1 Pineapple cream pie
1 Chocolate cream pie
2 Ricotta pies
4 Easter Breads


Auntie L made:
1 Vanilla cream pie
2 Barley pies


Auntie B made: 
6 Ham pies
Easter Breads (haven't seen hers yet, can't count them)
1 Veggie lasagna with homemade pasta (Thank you!)
1 vat of "Manest" (here's Rachael Rae's recipe for reference)
and a heck of a lot of other food.
I think her plan is for 2 more sweet pies, too.


I made the Good Friday vat of Pasta e Fagiola. The one day of the weekend that the rest of the family will join me in the vegetarian realm.


There is a ton of more food to be had over the course of Easter and time with all of my in-laws. All of it is made from scratch, and there are only twelve people to feed, one weighing in at a whopping 26 pounds.


Gotta love a family where food equals love - especially in pie form.

child of mine

Honey's aunt and uncle are visiting for Easter from the DC area.

The uncle is 86. He reminds me a lot of my dad, Papa. He's also very tolerant of Captain Comic's early riser musings. I made a rule for Captain Comic not to wander downstairs and turn on the TV until 7:30am. 

Just prior to 7:00, I awoke to this line of conversation wafting up the stairs:

Captain Comic: What about those drug-dealing pimps?

I didn't hear the uncle's response, but the tone of his voice was full of patience. 

Thank goodness.

love your mother

Happy Earth Day

conquer

Grandma is taking Toots to Busch Gardens with her cousins who are visiting in Virginia Beach. The boys are in school and Honey is at work. It takes a lot of work to have an empty house around here, but I have one for a few hours today.

I shall edit. This chapter will not get the better of me. I wrote it, I rewrote it a couple of times, and will finish it again today and move forward. It's these sticking points and getting caught in the minutia that make the joy of writing more like a chore.

 I love writing. I can't live without it. But sometimes, it can be the most frustrating thing in the world.

I feel the same way about it as I do my kids. Love with all of my heart, but sometimes, I just don't know what to do. So after trying a bit too hard last week, I let it go for a handful of days. Today I will have fresh eyes, see a new way out, crunch the details down, extricate some unnecessary dialogue, and hopefully make it gel with what has gone before, and what follows.

Because what follows is really good.

spring surprises

 A friend and I took our little ones out yesterday because it was too beautiful to do anything else. At the park, they ran in opposite directions, and Amilicious and I couldn't stand anywhere near each other to chat. I snapped a couple of shots as we crossed the footbridge on our way out.

 They were enthralled with a mama duck who was trying to snack in the mud below.

 Chive blossoms and buds:

 Here come the peas that Toots and I planted about a week or so ago.

Don't ask, I stumbled across this when I was downloading shots in the camera:

lazy sunday afternoon

After Saturday night's storm, Sunday couldn't have been more perfect weatherwise.

I parked myself under the wisteria with an interesting non-fiction read that I have renewed at the library for the third time. It's fascinating, but I can't or don't sit down long enough to just read a good chunk of it. If you're curious, it's called Occult America: The Secret History of How Mysticism Shaped Our Nation by Mitch Horowitz. I was familiar with a lot of the material he covers, but I really like how he puts it all together and shows a real chronology of the history of faith in America in all of its complexity.

Honey came out and joined me for a cuddle on the chaise for a bit, as Mr. Cynic mowed the front yard. Then Honey went in and woke up Toots from her nap. She came out for a cuddle with me, too.

Toots then got busy playing all over the yard with her daddy and I looked at the wisteria's wild dreadlocks, and decided to tame them a bit. I got out the ladder and string and started climbing and pulling at vines. While I was up there, someone came to chat, kind of.

Captain Comic: Hi Mom. What are you doing?

Mom: Hey Buddy, I'm fixing the wisteria. Whatcha been doing this afternoon?

Captain Comic: Stuff.

Mom: What kind of Stuff?

Captain Comic: Supercool Stuff you wouldn't understand.

Mom: What kind of supercool stuff - drawing comics? 

Captain Comic: Groan growl.  

And he circle paced around once more and headed toward the trampoline from where I heard squeaks and jumps as I went back to the business at hand. 

The wisteria on the fence is still a bit wild, but at least she doesn't look like Coolio circa 1994, or Weird Al Yankovic, for that matter. She smells a lot better, too, I bet.

it was a dark and stormy night.

 ~ Snoopy


Last night was quite the storm. It pummeled, it rumbled, it alerted often on TV.
Captain Comic was in a panic.
Lucy was in a panic.
Both periodically hyperventilated. 
And whimpered, there was a lot of very high pitched whimpering.


Toots crawled under the dining room table at one point, "to be safe under heyah". I had been cataloging all safety procedures to assuage Captain Comic's blood pressure. 


Captain Comic: I can't believe we're having a tornado warning. This is so scary. You shouldn't have made me clean my room earlier, that only made the day worse.


After the tornado warning was over for our area, I had to call Mr. Cynic and ask if he was still alive as the tornado warnings continued for NC where his bus was on the road home from his Choral Competition in Myrtle Beach, SC. 


Captain Comic cried, But I don't know if he's alive or dead! He collapsed to the floor and shook raised dramatic hands to the sky. 


On the phone:
Mom: Are you alive?
Mr. Cynic: No mom, I'm calling from death.


Gee, I wonder from whence he acquired his sardonic sense of humor.


All kidding aside, I am extremely grateful that Mr. Cynic made it home safely and the bus only had to pull over once for safety's sake. My heart goes out to many others who did not come through this storm nearly as well as we did. In the next town, three people died.  


I am also very proud that his Jazz Choir is Grand Champion! The trophy is as tall as my pipsqueak nearly sixteen year old. Poor kid, doubly cursed with short genes. 


I went out quite late to retrieve Mr. Cynic. By then the storm had passed and I walked out to the driveway under a brightly deep prussian blue sky full of stars and moonlight from a full, full glorious moon. The world, rocked by the moods of spring, once again, lay forever changed, and yet unchanged as the ages.  


Life goes on and I am grateful for the ordinary. 

vote for me - american gods

I love Neil Gaiman's writing, from Black Orchid, Sandman, and Books of Magic graphic novels to  Good Omens with Terry Pratchett, Anansi Boys and the Newbery Medal Winner The Graveyard Book. My favorite book of his is American Gods. I am nearly as well versed in world mythologies, but not nearly as easily referential as Mr. Gaiman, nor so quick to bring forth the old stories into a new millennium in amazingly inventive tales. Nor am I anywhere near as prolific - since it is taking me nearly a decade to write my first novel in a time he has written and published, well, many many more, as well as screenplays, and much more.

The tenth anniversary of the publication of American Gods is bringing with it a new audiobook edition. With that on the horizon, there is a contest to be a reader for it - a chance for his myriad fans to play a character in my favorite novel.  Of course you realize, I am utterly enthused about the prospect of playing a Neil Gaiman character.

Here's where you come in. Anyone can vote once per day until mid May. Please vote for me. I am 'cathysea' in the voting gallery. And then, please go back and vote for me again tomorrow, and the next day and so on.

I would be immensely grateful to you for furthering my opportunity to be a part of a book I've read nearly as many times as I've read To Kill a Mockingbird, in about one quarter of the years I've been reading my other favorite book, which I have read nearly annually since 1974. I always find something new in American Gods each time I read it. It's very nuanced and a great old fashioned murder mystery, too. I think what I love about the book the most though is how it shows the transplanted author's genuine love for the expansive landscape and character of his adopted home and all of our influences.

Please click on the link above, vote for me, and spread the word via blog, twitter and facebook, etc so that I may have a chance to be a part of my favorite book in the UNIVERSE.

ages & stages

The kids
Mr. Cynic is currently approaching his 16th birthday and is away on a trip with his high school competitive choir. I let him pack himself, and only asked a few did you remember type questions. There was a slight problem with a cufflink and studs order not arriving in time and Honey and I scrambling to get a second set the night before the bus pulled out of the parking lot at 6:30am yesterday. Of course a few hours after he was on the road, the online ordered set arrived, so now we own two. Men's formal wear is now covered well in our house, who would ever have imagined that?

Captain Comic is approximately twelve and a half (August he'll be thirteen, lord help me).  He takes a SPED bus to his middle school, and the policy in place until yesterday was that he got off the bus before the rest of the students disembarked from their busses because of his sensory integration issues with crowds. I received an email yesterday that he has been wandering the halls in the mornings and scaring teachers by jumping out from behind corners and doors. In effect, revisiting the topic of either keeping him on the bus until he is released with the rest of the students, or assigning a paraprofessional aide to him during that time period of the morning. I have been talking about his need for a para because of his wandering since Day One at this school last September. I have to say my first reaction was to giggle when I got the email, because I can just picture him and his delighted shifty grin as he jumps out and exclaims, "Waa!" at a select teacher.  He does it often at home.

Toots turned three two weeks ago today, had a princess party and promptly became a rather bratty one after that, with potty training regression included.  This morning's tantrum was of great magnitude. She observes Captain Comic's less desirable behaviors and parrots them. I told her and Honey that we will be having consistent use of time outs to rectify this, and we all need to be on board with it. Her behavior lately has really been unacceptable.

However, she does still have ample cute moments such as when we sat down to dinner last night:

Toots: Where's my bruver [Mr. Cynic]?
Mom: He's in South Carolina for his Choral Competition.
Toots: Well, go pick him up!

Writing
After writing off writing last week during the kids' spring break, I decided it's now or never, and conferred with Grandma to take Toots off my hands so I can get out of the house to write everyday this week for a few hours, while Captain Comic is in school, and Grandma is on board. Monday, I futz around the house while telling myself I would write all morning. I had it all laid out, and couldn't get a grip at all from where I had left off when I last visited my manuscript. I am in the middle of the manuscript in a complete overhaul and found it very hard to work on a chapter that still felt like the prior drafts, when I needed to clearly move forward. I think most of my problem on Monday was that I just had not looked at it in well over a week.

Tuesday, I was excited, having looked at it the day before, to take the manuscript with me out of the house and to my writing group. I wrestled with the chapter, doubted every edit I'd done in this draft and questioned all the work I've done on the book in the past six months, which has been a lot of changes. I kvetched after a couple of hours, and sat back down in front of it and finally saw a way out of the problem I was wrestling with. Then the other writers in my group all started having similar issues with focus and what to do next and decided to break for lunch, right when I found the groove I needed.  It's okay, it happens. I knew I would work on it again the next day at the library.

Yesterday, at the library, I attempted to continue where I left off the day before. It was like typing through drying concrete. The further I went, the slower it got. It was painful to watch myself go through that, because I know what I need to do. I'm just stuck in this middle of the book chapter and know what comes after is pretty well put together; I just need to get through this for the rest to make sense and flow well again.

So here I sit, writing this instead, so that I can process my way out of the concrete, while eating a late breakfast, because Toots was such a pill this morning before preschool, I couldn't get my own stuff together for after her preschool drop off.  But as soon as I finish, I am packing this dang laptop up and heading to my windowed corner of the library to sit with my muse, if she will visit today. I think she will.

achoo

That's a crooked finger lake full of pollen. I mean full.

It's across the street from my house, which matches, as do our vehicles, and frankly everything. Good thing rain is due, too many people living here are suffering through allergies. I'm in about the best shape of anyone, even the dog and cat.

But I just did a silly thing.

I went out into the hazy yellowish green air and took a big sniff of my wisteria. My nose is itching like I've got a feather with legs stuffed in both nostrils.

red white and blue

dog in crab grass

Watch the nose and ears:

I don't know how this one went so blurry, still needed it for the full effect, apologies.

Good Lucy on a sunny day. 

PS: We mowed shortly after I took these shots.

worm love

Sunday afternoon, I cleared another section of a garden plot of the

serious tangle of weeds and creeper grasses.

I had a couple of helpers.

Captain Comic was more interested in searching for worms than in helping get rid of weeds.

Toots was all about the tools.

Boy do I need to start riding a bike or something. Cellulite central.

Worm Love. 

"Oooooooo, he's so cuuuute!" pitch barely perceptible except by dogs.

It is fair to say that only a daughter of mine would say a worm is so cute while her brother shoved it in her face. My Dad to this day still marvels that it was his daughter out of all his kids who loved spiders and bugs. 

This is as cleared as my little section of garden is going to get for now. 

It took a couple of hours, maybe more, I lost track.

This is humus. 

I made it myself. 

I have a very rudimentary composting system.

I throw all the green yard waste and occasional scraps from the kitchen beside my shed. 

Then I throw a tarp over that. 

Then I dig into it when I need some garden food and see what I come up with from under the weeds. 

In the end, I planted two rows of swiss chard, some dill in the existing rosemary pot and some basil and parsley in the window box.

photo credits: if I'm in them, Honey took them, if I'm not, I did. Hm, my well loved garden clog and my shadow appear in 2 that I took, so I guess they are self-portraits. 

brotherly love

I think someone is ready for Spring Break to end and get back to a normal routine. Actually, I think the rest of us are, too.

I'll give you one guess who ripped them off and left them to languish crumpled in the bathroom garbage down the hall.

And I'll give you one more guess who rescued them for the sake of how funny they are. (Hi!)

growing

Last May 1, Toots stood at the top of the slide, surrounded by wisteria and I snapped one of my favorite shots of her. She was very contemplative.

Then Monday this week, she did it again. 

But first she danced a smidge.

I love this kid. The other two are pretty cool, too.

one thought

With Spring Break and a staycation with all three kids with me all day for several straight whom I love and do love to spend time with and everything but honestly with all of them, it can get rough when there's no standard schedule, you know the one that's in place when school is in session, and anyway the thought I had was I will never be able to write. Therefore genius me took writing off the table altogether for the week, no matter how much I want to finishing editing my book and get it out to publishers, and I really wanted to finish that before the end of last month, and I still need to do more than half, and it was going really well, and I really, really, really do want to edit and write and start the next book and it's sitting in Nanowrimo form, horrendously so, but the basic gist is there, and I really want to start that one over and then I have another one, make that two quite possibly three in viable starts, and well, as much as I love and need to write, this week, nope. I'm not even going to think about. hahaha.

So I accomplished tons of baking and organizing my kitchen and got the kids outside to the beach and DQ then I baked some more because of the rainy day, and then we went to the mall, and basically, I've been enjoying just being Mom and not writerslashmotherslashtutorslashsuperwoman. I spent time with them. I focussed on them. I listened to the whines, the arguments, the begging, the laughter, etc. We've watched movies and just hung out.

Now let's see if I can do this for writing next week when they're back in school....because, you know what? I may not be focusing on it, but it's still there - a timid little knock on the back door of my mind when I hear birdsong, laughter, during moments when the kids are not talking, just eating all the cookies I baked, or when the sun sparkles off one of their heads as they eat ice cream at DQ, and those moments of  voice linger somewhere behind a song on the radio in the car while Captain Comic is yelling from the back of the van for me to not sing along, it's killing him. really, mom, KILLING ME. I can't take it! and Mr. Cynic is yelling from the passenger seat for Captain Comic to just. shut. up. so he can hear the song. and Toots is saying, Yook! I see a Stop sign! It's wight there. Or when I see the red flash of a cardinal couple flitting, collecting supplies to build their nest. Or when Toots helped me to plant and water the peas. And the little sprouts are just coming up, and life is good. The world is beautiful, go out in it. Get some dirt under your nails, taste the sunlight.

my kingdom for a cookie

While making cookies today:

Captain Comic: Isn't the United Kingdom the same as Great Britain?
Mom: Yes it is.
Capt. Comic: But why do they call it the United Kingdom. That sounds so medieval!
Mom: Because the Feudal System was in rule in the Medieval Age and during that time, they United the Kingdoms of the British Isles.
Capt. Comic: Oh. But why do they still call it that?
Mom: Well, they do still have a Queen in England.
Capt. Comic: Yea, but she probably has a laptop!

Addendum: Perhaps I should have clarified that when he piped in with the laptop comment, I could totally see him picturing her sitting on a throne with crown and a red robe a la the Cowardly Lion typing away....

flat stanley adventure

When I moved to a new school in second grade, I was writing my name in the dirt on the back baseball field at recess, when another girl, also with blonde hair, brown eyes, and an equally pronounced overbite walked up and said "Hey! How do you know my name?"

I replied, "That's not your name, it's my name!" We were best friends until she moved to a different school in the same town in fourth grade. But we still saw each other in church, in junior high and high school, though we weren't close, had different friends, etc.

Around our 20th high school reunion, we reconnected, and have been emailing practically daily (often several times a day) ever since. When I am in the area, we visit, and go to the old beach we grew up on together with our kids now.              

Her son sent us Flat Stanley for an adventure to document in a journal for his class. Today we took him up to the Historic District  and showed him a round a little. It was such a gorgeous day!       

The monument is HUGE!

Toots held Flat Stanley captive in Cornwallis's Cave. 

Revolutionary War prison carved out of limestone right by the beach.

See?

Then we enjoyed the beach.  

It was over 80, I should have had the kids and myself in shorts.

It was windy, so I packed Flat Stanley back into his envelope.

 

I can't believe Captain Comic's feet are bigger than mine. My Baby! 

Oh, that's right, I have another who still has tiny feet.

Lucy was hot. She enjoyed meeting other dogs, so did Captain Comic and Toots.

I poured some of my water bottle for her to drink.

Mr. Cynic opted to study for his upcoming Regionals Competition happening in Myrtle Beach next week. He's in his high school Jazz Choir.  

I have to say, they are quite an accomplished group with an enthusiastic teacher.

This little Fairy did not crash land. She was just having fun as only a true free spirit can.

Captain Comic had wanderlust.

 He was dying to go in the water, but it was full of seaweed and a smattering of jellyfish.

More Toots fun. I didn't catch a shot of the sand angel moment. Priceless.

Mr. Cynic makes a good retriever - of his brother anyway.

And that's our Spring Break Day One Adventure for our staycation. 

I hope the rest of the week is as successful a family day as today was.