A typical trip to Rocky Point, with an atypical amount of attention paid to visitors. This was seemingly impossible, since other than Beckie and Kila and G, and Benito and Pancho at the fish market, I spoke barely 10 words to anyone all weekend, and those consisted of “whuh? um, ok. smile. one, two, three. you’re welcome.”

JB and his family were supposed to join us, and were packed and ready to go, other than for a missing birth certificate. They did not make it, we did not know, but by 4pm we had written them off. Too bad, as we had a grand time.

Little swimming was done by anyone but me and Kila. G entertained herself by storming the gates of this (unoccupied) beachfront house over and over. pirate-like.

She insisted we bring all this along each day.


Flies were everywhere

Dont Tase Me, Bro

All weekend G tried to fly one of the very complex, very twisted-and-broken kites in the garage. She found a better one tangled up in the dunes and railing of the yo-ho-house she pillaged.

It put up a fight.

But at least it flew

Sometime Sunday night, a cat snuck into the house, ate all of Kila’s food, then got itself chased into the cabinet. In the morning while I was drinking my coffee, I detected a malodorous smell. I found the cat, it shit in the cabinet, then bolted past me and down 2 flights of stairs in a single bound.

It looked like this

G wanted to get in the water, but the surf scared her. I was a bit disappointed at her lack of balls, but what do i know of where a 32 month-old-tinyHuman’s balls should be?

She was fired up to get in a boat nonetheless, and insisted that Beckie paddle