7 Quick Takes: Post-Beach Edition

It would be a good idea to inventory your purse before traveling the 3 hours home from the beach.  Because the next morning is way too late to wonder what happened to the key fob that will cost you 300 dollars to replace.

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BlogHer attendees?  We don't want to hear about the great time you are having.  Sorry.

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The other day Rachel said, "I wish there were a money tree we could just pick money off it!"  I told her, "We have one of those.  You call him Daddy."

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Husbands!  When your wife eyes the kids' beach chair with the intent of sitting on it, do not say, "Well, that would totally finish it off!"  As Larry can attest, there is no way to backtrack from that statement.  Believe me, he tried.

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We keep hearing that America has an obesity problem, but nothing drives that home like a day at the beach. 

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Considering the above, and the fact that 6 pregnancies have not done my vein-covered legs any favors, I'm thinking that there might just be a place in my wardrobe for the attractive yet modest burquini.  My skirted swimsuit bottom just isn't cutting it anymore.

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For more 7 Quick Takes, check out Conversion Diary - she'd look great in a burquini (although she certainly doesn't need one).

[Money tree: WealthWinners]

[Burquini: Hey Hijabi!]

And They're Off!

Today? 

It was in the 90's. 

Humid as heck. 

With mosquitoes.

In fact, it was just like it's been EVERY DAY FOR THE PAST 6 WEEKS.

But that's okay, nothing a little clever planning can't handle.  We visited the blessedly air-conditioned library and picked up the entire first season of I Love Lucy on DVD (educational, right? History?) .  Then we used the summer reading program coupons to forage a free meal from the not-air-conditioned-enough pizza place nearby.  Finally, in desperation, we escaped the unremitting sun by taking refuge under our town's splash pool fountains. 

Lather.  Rinse.  Repeat.  We've been doing this sort of thing all summer.  It's getting old. I mean, I'm bored just reading that.  Do you folks come by just to be reminded how exciting your lives are compared to mine?

And now?  Sandwiches made, towels packed, kids abed...we're all set for our belated day trip to the beach tomorrow.  This involves our riding 3 hours in the car each way, with Susie talking the entire time.  Pray for us. Theo is coming also, so we might even be able to lug all the requisite beach-going paraphernalia from the parking lot to the sand before it's time to turn around and come home.

Knitting at the beach?  Discuss.  Too sandy?  Windy?  Maybe I should keep an eye on the children instead?

A Little Lightning Never Hurt Anyone

Me: I'll have Theo make our sandwiches tonight for the beach tomorrow.

Larry: But we're not going tomorrow.

Me: You said we were going on Wednesday.  Wednesday is tomorrow.  Ergo, we are going tomorrow.

Larry: I saw the weather report and there's a chance of rain.  So I assumed we weren't going.

Me:  There's always a chance of thunderstorms in the summer.  When should we go instead?  November?

Our conversation went downhill from there.  Anyone know what I should do all day tomorrow with 4 kids who were counting on going to the beach?  Because, really, I don't have a clue.

Murder, She Wrote

If a centipede falls in the living room, and only your wife hears it, does it make a sound?

According to Larry? No.  It certainly does not.

But Wikipedia tells me that "Centipedes are predators, and mainly use their antennae to seek out their prey."

Prey - as in, say, myself, sitting alone in the living room at night, unaware of the imminent danger posed by these disgustingly large, hairy creatures.  Gah.

I'm thinking Larry needs to take out additional life insurance on me.  Or, wait a second - maybe he already has...

So Big

A very large centipede just interrupted my peaceful, pre-bedtime blog-reading interlude.

How large was it?  It was so large that I heard it drop from the ceiling to the floor behind me.

That shouldn't be possible, right?

But I heard it.

Do I dare to search for a centipede image to accompany this post?

I think not.

In fact, I think I'll just go to bed.  It's hard to type, perched precariously atop this desk chair as I am.  Good night, y'all.

[Image credit: ChildSafetyAustralia]