• Our Stay at Bay.

    We planned to take this trip months ago. Ever since our stay at Magnolia one year ago, Beth has been pleading with us to go back to the cabins. This year the drive up was not as pleasant. Last year I was sick, but the drive was great. This year Cheryl was sick and I was in pain. The drive was a chore instead of a relaxing break. Last year we arrived at the cabins after a mild cold front had passed thru, and the air was crisp and refreshing. This year we arrived with a nearly stationary upper level low, and the sky was cloudy, the air heavy with humidity. Everything was musty from the dampness and Cheryl immediately reached for her inhailer. It was an inauspiscious start.

    After checking in and dropping off our gear at the cabin, we headed back into town to pick up some perishable provisions. Cheryl was amazed that a small town Food Lion would have a larger selection than a suburban Publix with twice the square footage. We found all of the prepackaged foods that we enjoy so much at home and headed back to the cabin. We eased into dinner. Afterwards I eased into a headache. Neither Tylenol nor Motrin would beat the monster back, so I just went to bed.

    The next morning I awoke the sound of raindrops on the roof. I immediately had the urge to go outside to see. Is that strange, having the urge to see rain? I guess I don’t see it all that much in Florida. Besides, it’s strangely relaxing, watching the rain. A downpour gives you just the opposite of peace and quiet, but it can produce the same effect – tranquility. So at last I find what was missing from our last trip, but under much different cercumstances. I sat on the porch, Beth quietly playing inside, typing away on my iBook with the roar of the pouring rain just a few feet away.

  • One tooth, three teeth

    Beth is holding three pencil erasers in the shape of teeth. She advises me (in her typically loud fashion, as if from half way across the house) she has three toothes. Recognizing the grammatical error, I explain to her she has three teeth, not three toothes. Beth, being a relatively stubborn child, insists she has three toothes. This goes on for about a minute or so before I convince her there is no such word as “toothes.”

    Finally, she seems to be catching on, so I decide to quiz her.

    “Beth, what do you have when you have three?”
    “Three TEETH daddy!”
    “Good! Very good Beth! Now, what do you have when you have just one Beth?”
    “Two missing teeth daddy!”

  • Frustration, mommy and daddy style.

    Tonight we reached another milestone.
    We’ve crossed one more bridge for the first time.
    We can look back, but we can’t go back.
    We can only hope not to cross it again,
    or at least not very often.

    When her tower of legos unexpectedly tumbled, and consumed with the fire of extreme frustration, Beth exclaimed, “OH SHIT!!!”

    She said it with emphasis.
    She said it with gusto.
    She said it with passion.
    She said it with no shame.
    She saved it for me.

    It’s hard to be angry. I’ve said to Cheryl on several occasions that it’s tough not to swear in such situations. Nothing comes close to the necessary level of catharsis that a good dose of profanity provides. And yet. . .

    I am going to have to be more careful.

    And while it is nothing to be proud of, I must admit a dirty little secret. I laughed while typing this message. . .out of range (measured in time and distance) to an impressionable set of little ears.