4th of July

The rule is that you can still write about the 4th of July as long as it's still technically July, right? Okay, awesome.

So usually I head to the beach house in Galveston with the family for Independence Day every year. I was bummed that it wasn't going to happen this summer, but my day in East Texas ended up being pretty perfect!

First of all, I took the day off and slept in until 10. HOLLA, y'all.

Second, I met up with Emily, Lacey, and Lori at Stanley's BBQ, a local favorite. As you can see, it was pretty epic.

Pictured: epicness. You need to go to there.

Lori with the famous Baby Wade

Lace is intimidated by her giant/delicious baked potato

Awwwww yeah

She is happiest when eating barbecue.

From there we headed back to my apartment for some serious pool time. Which included lots of talking, reading magazines, and sipping on sophisticated beverages.

This is how we roll.

We spent our evening with a group at Lori's house, eating way too much and looking way too cute, or at least I think so.

I mean, back me up here.

Future roommates! More on that to come...

Fireworks to wrap up the evening?

Boom. Shaka laka.

Even better: these are the fireworks from one of the best movies of all time,  THE SANDLOT.

Yeah yeah!

God bless America.

I am SO READY...

For summer.

I love warm weather SO MUCH more than cold. With the slow arrival of spring, I am already dreaming of summer. I'm looking forward to time by the pool, wearing flip flops everyday, trips to the beach, and attempts at getting my tan back.

And hammocks.

Definitely hammocks.

The calm before the explosion.

Whew. What a weekend. Val and I both spent the holiday in Galveston with tons of relatives, too much food, and too little sunscreen. The highlights include one large extended family reunion, a neighborhood parade complete with motorized cooler (that's our "float" to the right), water balloon launching at passing boats, and the celebration of my Grandmother's 80th birthday. Success. Vacation time over. Now to the most insane three months I could possibly imagine. Deep. Breaths.

Peace Out!

....Summertime is finally here....
.
Well kids, you won't be hearing from us for a few days, because G and I will be soaking up the sun on the beach in Galveston this weekend! I can't wait to celebrate the 4th, eat a lot of good food, float in the canal, chill with the cousins, lay on the beach, share a laugh at our GIANT family reunion, cruise the neighborhood in our slammin' new golf cart, and spend time with all those from Arizona. All one of them.

Catch you on the flip side!

I am Michael Phelps.

Like most of the world, I've been pulled into watching the Olympics every night, usually well past 11:00pm. I've never been so motivated at the gym. I went almost every night last week for close to two hours at a time. The television at my rental place is finicky, so I rely on L.A. Fitness to get me through. If you ever want to truly motivate yourself, just watch some of the swimming races while on an elliptical. Are my legs moving or is that a whirlwind? Can't tell, can you?

I think my favorite part of the games have been...well, me. I know, sounds ridiculous, but I'm ridiculous. I can't help but imagine myself as a better athlete than I actually am. For someone who played pretty much every sport growing up, I'm now a certified klutz. I can't do anything without hurting myself. But since the start of the games in Beijing, I've seemed to recover that sparkle. I leap from room to room and walk as though I'm a gymnast headed to my next event. I can barely move today from all the "Olympic-ing" that's taken place.

And while I admit to being committed physically to this process, I would be lying if I didn't happen to commit emotionally as well. You should have seen me as I watched the women's all-around gymnastics competition. I was watching on my roommate's couch, which is suede, not wanting my newly washed hair to get her pillow wet, so I had a kitchen towel draped over the pillow. So glad I had it, because I cried through the entire thing. I hadn't even heard of Nastia's name a week ago, but here I am sobbing "Go Nastia! You can do this. Make us all proud. You've worked so hard for this!" I now speak of her as though she is my best friend. I've been to her website. It's sad. I was telling someone about her crying through the National Anthem and I started crying just talking about it. And don't get me started on those Morgan Freeman Visa commercials. They get me every time.

I don't even remember watching any of the Olympics when they were in Athens or Sydney. Bejing has become my Atlanta. I'm going to be so sad in another week when I have to go back to watching NBC summer programming. Blech. For now I will continue to stick my landings, win the gold by a fingernail, and cheer like the athletes can actually hear me.

*Photo: Winning the gold in ocean running at the Galveston '06 Olympics. Watch out Phelps.

Fly me to the moon...

I’m not sure how I manage to do it, but once again I found myself pulling out of my airport parking with tears rolling down my face. It was everything I could do not to lose it in front of the friendly man who handed me my bottle of water and asked for my credit card. He smiled and said, “Do you have a coupon?” I blinked back the tears and said, “I used to have one.” I’m sure he was puzzled by my response, but didn’t ask as he quoted my $50 fee. As I pulled out, I let my overly tired tears fall.

Let's take it back, shall we? - Thursday, June 12th, 2008.

• I pulled into the parking lot ready for an exciting weekend in the Washington D.C. area. I was thrilled to get to see an old high school friend and make up for the inattentive time I spent at the Smithsonian Museums in 1995. My alarm rang at 3:45am (yes, that’s right) and I had managed to arrive relatively on schedule. I not only made it on to my desired flight (I was flying stand by), but I arrived with no travel hassles. It was so very…green. Gosh I miss grass…and leafy trees…and water. I’m sure Sarah must have tired of my remarks of the plant life and the variety of architecture over the course of our weekend. And rather than typing out the entire journey, I thought I would list the most noteworthy happenings.
  
  1. I stayed in the basement of a purple house in Silver Spring, Maryland. There was no air conditioning in the basement, and yet we were comfortable. Mystery to me.
  2. I was plagued by a ten year old in the Portrait Gallery. She literally found her way into my space at every portrait, no matter which direction I chose to take. She wasn’t seeking out conversation, but apparently thought I knew the way? Just a guess.
  3. Eating on the grass at the National Sculpture Garden with live jazz in the background is a great way to spend a Friday evening.
  4. The film "The Savages" was partially filmed in Sun City, AZ. I flew to MD only to have Snowbirds follow me.
  5. Beaches in Maryland are different than beaches in Florida. Picture large red rocks that radiate heat. No, not that big. That’s Arizona. Smaller rocks, but bigger than the sand I’m used to.
  6. My hair hates humidity. I don’t think I have one decent looking picture from the trip.
  7. I hate humidity...
  8. You can buy a small bottle of water outside the Lincoln Memorial for $1.95.
  9. If your show choir is selected to sing on a little stage outside of the Washington Monument I would suggest you work on your enthusiasm.
  10. I kept keeping my eyes open for someone I might recognize. I don’t even mean politicians or journalists. I know of about 5 people who live in the city, but not well enough to give them a call. I was at a party in a random house in the middle of the city on Saturday night, and one of them walked through the door. You would have thought we were sisters by the way we greeted each other. (At least like the sisters in the movies.)
  11. Lots of good food to be found in the D.C. area. (Lebanese, Italian, Seafood, Cuban, you name it.)
  12. My friend and her co-workers and everyone living in D.C. are trying to save the world. It was all very interesting. I asked myself these very questions: How many reports have you had published in journals lately? Are you working with a conflict resolution NGO or at a think tank?
• 13. Flying stand by is stressful.
  14. Having your suitcase as a carry-on item torn from you and put under the plane can be worrisome…
  15. Especially if you are the only passenger to remain on the Baltimore to Indianapolis flight. You wonder, “Will my luggage be getting off to stay in Indianapolis for the day?” You almost call out to the flight crew to keep an eye out for your little bag that was not packed to be checked.
  16. If you had packed your bag to be checked you would have removed your new running shoes, makeup, library books, small camera, glasses, medicine, favorite Bible, and keys. Alas, you had no time to respond – you were the last to board the plane and therefore holding everyone up.
  17. When I landed in Phoenix I silently pleading, “Please let my luggage be here. Please let my luggage be here.”
  18. I arrived at the baggage claim area and watched for an hour. No bag. They will give me a call when they manage to locate it. (No one was overly reassuring or calming.)
  19. I finally make it onto my shuttle to the parking lot thankful for my phone, giant camera, and wallet. The keys might have been more reassuring though.
  20. Luckily, I have a spare key – and the alarm only went off for 5 minutes.
  21. As I pulled my car up to check out I realized my coupon for 10% off was in the zipper pocket of my luggage at the Indianapolis Airport. That was all it took to push me over the edge.
  
  The weekend really was wonderful. I had a lovely time with Sarah and am so thankful I had the opportunity to go and enjoy a weekend away. Finally, I would like to make the observation that even though 85 degrees and humid is miserable, 110 degrees is worse. Dry heat my foot. You come try it. Oh, and flip flop tans are forever.

Edit: Apparently my luggage caught a flight into Phoenix this afternoon, but would not take a cab. I returned to the airport to collect the bag at 7:30pm. Now we can all sleep soundly.

Galveston Part 3

Soon the back of the vehicles were loaded up with beach mats, pails, shovels, tarps, balls, coolers, chairs, boogie boards, and everything necessary to build a veritable beach command center in the sand.

"I wanna sit with Shannon!" Amy yelled, making a bee line for Shannon's side.

"Shane, where are you sitting?" Clay called.

"Who's leaving now?" I asked, wiping my already sweaty face.

"Let's go!" Snuf said, climbing behind the wheel of one of the vans. I jumped in and grabbed a window seat, and before I knew it Amy had climbed in beside me and laid her head on my shoulder.

"No Ame," I said pulling my shoulder back, "It's too hot for that!"

"Leave her alone, Amy!" Carter shouted, climbing into the seat behind us.

"Yeah!" said Dawson, sliding in next to Carter.

"Shut up, Dawson!" Amy shouted back. "Shannon's sitting by me!"

"Who else?!" yelled Snuf, starting the engine.

I looked over to the suburban Tim had just climbed behind the wheel of and spotted Hilary in the front seat leaning forward to adjust the radio. Soon Aaron had leaped in our van and sat next to Dawson. Kathy had claimed the front seat, and Greg sat next to Amy. Everyone else had piled into other vehicles, and as soon as Amy realized what was happening, her panic set in.

"No, Dad!" Amy screamed as he pulled the door shut. "Shannon!"

"I'll come in the next car, Ame!" Shannon explained, waving as we pulled away from the house.

"Noooooo!" Amy screamed, the tears beginning to roll down her face.

"Ame," Greg said in a warning voice.

"Amy, shut up!" Dawson insisted.

"My, what a happy way to start the day!" I said, straining to be heard over her wails.

"Dad!" Aaron called. "Air!"

Snuf answered by flicking the AC to high, the sudden wind making my eyes water.

"Ow, Carter stop it!" yelped Dawson.

"I didn't do anything!" insisted Carter.

I looked out the window and tried to focus on the passing golf course, not quite able to tune out the ever increasing noise of Amy that Snuf was not succeeding in drowning out by turning up the radio louder and louder.

Sooner we had passed the Cha Cha church, the fire station, the general store whose name was constantly changing but to us would always be Sasser's, and were crossing the intersection into the beachfront neighborhood of Pirate's Beach. Amy was still screaming "Shannon" but her brothers had abandoned bickering and Dawson had begun a new career peppering Aaron with questions . Snuf, Kathy, and Greg were discussing how much of the beach had been washed away this year, despite the fact that Amy's cries had taken on a decidedly desperate "Streetcar Named Desire" quality.

When Snuf came to the last street parallel to the beach he made a right and we began our search for the cul de sac with the least number of cars. As we made the final turn into a satisfactory cul de sac, Snuf reminded, "Everybody help!"

"Everybody take something," Kathy echoed.

"Carter, Dawson, that means you too," Greg said.

"I know, Dad!" Carter replied, his eyes rolling.

Greg opened the door and Amy, as if realizing where we were for the first time, abandoned her quest to scream "Shannon" louder than a jet engine and excitedly jumped out of the van almost knocking her father over and ran laughing for the bridge over the sand dunes.

"Amy, you have to help!" Carter yelled.

We all grabbed for the beach equipment as Tim pulled the suburban up behind us and jokingly pretended to almost run us over.

I tucked a towel under my arm, grabbed a cooler, and slung an old, moldy orange boogie board that was undoubtedly older than I over my shoulder.

As I followed Aaron up over the sand dune bridge I couldn't squelch the excitement that was rising up within me. I reached the summit of the bridge and grinned at the sight of the ocean. Bliss!

I traipsed down the ramp and let the orange boogie board trail behind me. I shuffled through the sand behind Aaron and picked up the pace as the baked sand engulfed my feet and did its best to burn off a layer of skin.

We found a free section of beach and began setting up our camp for the day. Soon four holes had been dug, PVC pipes had been inserted, and the tarp was tied with bungee chords to the top. Kathy rolled out the beach mats, Tim began setting up chairs, and Snuf was finding an appropriate radio station on the small yellow stereo.

Clay, Carter, and Dawson made a bee line for the water and Amy sat on the sand right in front of the chairs and began digging a hole. Hilary and I walked down to the edge of the shore and put our toes in the water and I grinned, just happy to be standing on the beach.

Galveston Part 2

Continued....

"Alright, who's ready to go to the beach?" called out Snuf coming in from outside and clapping his hands several times.

"Beach!" yelled Amy, her mouth full of cantaloupe and juice running down her chin.

Other affirmative responses were vocalized and I ran out of the house, careful not to slam the front door, and thundered down the stairs to get my bathing suit off the line. After grabbing it and attempting to shake some of the sand out I saw Carter, Clay and Dawson tear past the house on the golf cart, weaving in and out of neighbor's driveways. I ran to the end of the driveway.

"Clay! Carter! Dawson! Come on! We're going to the beach!" Not waiting for a response, I turned and sprinted up the stairs to the deck where I almost ran into Hilary who was on her way to get her suit. She clattered down the stairs and yelped. I turned just in time to see her narrowly avoid getting clipped by the golf cart, the boys laughing maniacally. I grinned and ran for the front door as Hilary yelled at her cousins for their carelessness.

In the kitchen, Amy had already changed into her faded blue and pink swimsuit and was standing still as a statue as her mother sprayed suntan lotion on her back and rubbed it in.

"Val, do you want to go ahead and make your sandwich?" Mom asked, loading a cooler with ice packs and water.

Ginger and Shannon were making their lunch at the kitchen table, whose contents had magically been transformed from breakfast food to sandwich fixings. As I started on my own ham sandwich Clay came through the front door having already changed into his swimsuit.

"Clay, I made you a hot dog to take to the beach, do you want anything else?" Mom asked.

"Do we have any chips?"

As the food dialogue continued between them, Hilary, Carter, and Dawson had all come through the front door and Shane and Aaron came down from upstairs, having donned their board shorts and the appropriate grungy beach t-shirts.

"Grandma do we have any grape jelly?" asked Aaron, grabbing a jar of peanut butter from the pantry.

"Umm.... What is this?" asked Shane, holding up a zip lock bag containing a smashed looking sandwich with mustard smeared on the inside.

"That's my sandwich!" exclaimed a grinning Amy, who, have been sufficiently covered in sun block, was attempting to tug on a sandy pair of aqua shoes.

"Hi, Mrs. Apple-head," said Dad, coming in from outside.

"Hi Uncle Steve," Amy answered, rolling her eyes.

"How many cokes can I take?" Clay chorused.

"Just one," Mom answered.

"What? Mom, that's not fair!" he whined. "I always have two cokes at the beach!"

"Where does he get these rules?" Dad asked Grandma, shaking his head.

"Do we have any turkey?" Carter asked.

Ginger tossed it to him and handed Mom her sandwich to put in the cooler.

"Did you get my suit too?" she inquired, looking at me.

I stopped spreading the butter on my bread to look incredulously at her. She rolled her eyes and walked outside, passing Grant who also had returned from retrieving his suit. Kathy came downstairs and began chattering about the seaweed as she adjusted a visor over her hair.

"Is it really bad?" asked Joannie, who luckily did not notice Hilary's obvious disapproval of her mother's choice of a cover-up.

I turned my attention back to the other side of the kitchen. Dawson was struggling to be heard over Clay's insistence that he didn't need sunscreen. Shane was saying something to make Aaron and Grant laugh, and Shannon, having finished making her sandwich and already in her suit, was leaning against the sink talking to Grandma.

I hurried to cram my sandwich into a zip lock and scribbled a giant V on the outside in permanent marker. Having tossed it into the sandwich cooler I grabbed my suit and scurried into the bathroom to change and slather myself in sunscreen. I opened the door and almost tripped attempting to step into my beach shorts.

"Val, do you need a hat?" Mom asked, putting a book into her mesh beach bag. I made a face and started to shake my head but seeing that I was about to enter a losing battle, I instead nodded and let her put a cap in the bag for me.

"Dad, you got it in my eyes!" Clay wailed from the living room. I turned to see Dad laughing as he smeared Clay's face in one fell swoop with white goop and moved on to his back and chest, his large hands almost matching the circumference of Clay's tiny torso.

"Why don't Shane and Aaron have to wear sunscreen?" Clay asked, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands.

"We put it on at the beach!" said Aaron, throwing one peanut butter and jelly sandwich into the cooler and cramming half of another one into his mouth.

"Ha ha!" Shane taunted as they both walked out the front door.

"Cute suit, Hil!" said Shannon.

"Thanks," said Hilary, entering the kitchen from the stairwell.

"Y'all ready?" asked Kathy. She and her enormous basket of a beach bag were heading toward the front door.

"Come on, Dawson, let's go!" said Amy, slinging her own beach bag, full of what looked like a doll, some cd's, and a handful of beaded necklaces over her shoulder.

"Wait, Ame," said Greg, passing Kathy through the front door. He attempted to get her to leave the bag behind as Hilary attempted to get Grant to carry her towel and Pam attempted to cover both Dawson and Carter in greasy sunscreen.

"Ready?" asked Shannon, her towel tucked under her arm and her beach bag in hand.

"Let's do it!" said Ginger, and I followed the two of them out the door. As soon as it had shut behind me it opened again and Hilary and Grant emerged.

"Did you see what my mom was wearing?" Hilary laughed as we all trooped down the stairs.

"It's not bad!" Ginger called over her shoulder.

My excitement for our trip to the beach heightened as I entered the garage in search of a good boogie board and a solid beach chair. This would be a very good day.

Stay tuned!

Galveston Memories

The following does not take place in a specific year or time period. It is a mash-up of Galveston memories and summers at the beach. These are the images I see when I close my eyes and imagine the Beach House.
-----

I vaguely heard the door open and lifted an eyelid just in time to see Ginger leaving the room. I tried to fall back asleep but now that I was faintly awake I could hear a barrage of noises and feel the sunshine straining to pour through the hurricane blinds. After several minutes my eyes fluttered open and the sound of odd video game pings came more into focus. I stared at the piece of plywood above me that was supporting the mattress of the top bunk and reluctantly swung my feet out onto the floor.

I crossed the room and opened the door, squinting at the brightness that flooded the beach house. Stumbling down the stairs I grunted a hello to Tim as he walked out the kitchen towards the front door.

"Good morning, Princess!" Grandma said softly, opening her arms to me. I leaned in to her and let her stroke my hair for a moment before pulling away and asked the all important question-

"Is that sausage?"

"Yes," she answered. "I made the boys leave some for you."

"Thanks Grandma." I smiled and bit the end of a link.

"Would you like some orange juice? I'll strain it for you!"

I nodded as Greg came through the kitchen and began loading ice into a blue disposable cup with his name scrawled in Sharpie on the side.

"You guys and your strained orange juice," Greg laughed, filling his cup with water.

"It tastes like hair!" I insisted, quoting my mantra and trying to decide between Cocoa Krispies and Fruity Pebbles. Any cereal that can turn your milk into a shock of pinky orange or a murky tone of chocolatey brown equals a great way to start the day.

As I slurped the last of my cereal, Grant appeared bleary-eyed at the foot of the stairs. Grandma began laughing at his hair sticking straight up and Grant answered with a sleepy grin. He sat at a chair at the end of the table just as Amy entered from the living room with one of her colorfully tattooed dolls.

"Hi Grant!" she said as she approached him. "Sleep okay?"

"Mhmm, I- auggh! Amy no!"

I looked up to see that she had leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and I chuckled to myself as he attempted to push her away.

"Amy, space please, darlin'," said Pam, entering from the next room.

She and Grandma began talking by the stove as Clay, Carter, and Dawson, having abandoned their video games, came barreling in from the next room and swarmed around the breakfast table. In a flash, Carter had his hand in the Fruit Loops box, Dawson was grabbing a piece of banana bread, and Clay was reaching for a sausage link.

"Hey, you boys! Shoo! You already ate your breakfast!" said Grandma.

"But we're still hungry!" Carter laughed, stuffing a handful of the colored cereal into his mouth.

Just then Kathy came in the front door, sweating from her walk and clutching a handful of orange and purple wildflowers.

"Good morning!" she said smiling at everyone. "Hi Mom, are my boys up yet?"

"No I don't think so," said Grandma.

"Grandma, I wanna go to the beach," insisted Amy.

"Do you boys want to wake up Aaron and Shane?" asked Kathy with a devilish grin.

"Yeah!" Clay and Carter chorused.

"Can we jump on them?" asked Dawson, but he was already running up the stairs with the others.

"Sure," called Kathy.

"Come on, Grant!" Clay yelled over his shoulder.

Grant looked up from his bowl of Frosted Mini Wheat's with a conflicted look in his eyes.

"Go!" said Kathy as she opened the cupboard in search of a plastic cup for her wildflowers.

"Beach!" said Amy.

I headed into the living room to the strains of Pam attempting to appease Amy. As I flopped onto the couch next to Hilary and Ginger, who were engrossed in an episode of "The Price is Right," yells and thumps began erupting from upstairs.

"What's going on?" asked Hilary.

"They're waking up Aaron and Shane," I answered, snuggling into one of the scratchy couch pillows.

After a moment of Bob Barker lecturing us to spay and neuter our pets, Shannon pushed open the front door clad in a strapless bikini clutching a magazine and a bottle of tanning oil in one hand and a portable CD player in the other.

"Goooood morning, sleepy heads!" she sang out.

Ginger looked up from the copy of People magazine she had been perusing. "You've already been out this morning?"

"Since 8:30!" Shannon answered excitedly as she tossed her things into a chair. "Gettin' a jumpstart on the tan! What do you think?" she asked, walking closer to us.

She grabbed Hilary's hand and pressed her finger's to her stomach. And although Hilary pulled her hand away, her white finger marks remained emblazoned across Shannon's stomach and heightened the reddish brown tint of her skin.

"Oh, gosh, Shannon!" Mom exclaimed as she walked in the room. "Burn yourself already?"

"Trying to!" she answered, crossing her fingers.

Soon the sound of thundering footsteps filled the house. Clay, Carter, and Dawson came tumbling down the stairs, giggling and falling on top of each other at the bottom. Dad told them to settle down, so they raced out of the house each yelling that they would be the one to drive the golf cart. They made the mistake of slamming the door behind them, and I glanced out the window just in time to see Grandpa point to the door, point to them, and shake his finger.

"Did you tell them to do that?" Shane asked accusingly as he stepped off the last stair into the kitchen.

"Who, me?" asked Kathy, laughing. "No, I think it was Valerie."

"Whatever!" I called, rising from my cuddled seat on the couch. "That's a lie!"

Kathy grinned at me as I walked in to the kitchen.

"Where's Aaron, didn't you boys wake him up too?" she asked Grant, who had returned to the kitchen and his bowl of cereal moments before.

"No, they woke me up," mumbled Aaron, coming down the stairs rubbing his elbow. In one motion he had slid into a chair, grabbed a tiny box of Cocoa Puffs, and started pouring its entire contents into a bowl.

Amy, who had engrossed herself in coloring in her Pocahontas coloring book, tore out the page she had just finished writing her name and few other random characters on and set it in front of Shane.

"Here Shane, that's for you," she said.

"Thanks, Amy," he said through a mouthful of banana bread.

"Here, you boys finish this cantaloupe," Grandma said setting the bowl on the corner of the table between Aaron and Shane.

Before either of them could make a move toward the fruit, Amy had taken a piece and put almost the entire thing into her mouth.

"Amy, love," said Pam, drying her hands on a towel. "No more."

"Alright, who's ready to go to the beach?" called out Snuf coming in from outside and clapping his hands several times.

---------
To be continued...

Saltwater Coke

Some of the best days of my life have been spent in the little town of Galveston, Texas. The beaches were brown and carpeted in seaweed, but to me it was a glittering tropical paradise. Each day we'd load the car full of chairs, coolers, boogie boards, buckets, and the kitchen sink (well, maybe not that last one) and head down to the beach. We'd spend the morning splashing in the (murky) water, building sandy drip castles, and digging deep holes in the sand before grabbing our sandwiches and soft drinks and settling down to lunch. The sandwiches were sandy and the cokes were warm, but anything is satisfying when you're sitting out in the beating sun and watching the crashing waves.

After lunch, feeling especially mischevious, Ginger and I would sneak down to the water with our empty coke cans and carefully fill them halfway full of ocean water. Then we'd nonchalantly make our way back up to the rest of our group, pretending to drink from our soda cans, and trying our hardest not to giggle. Finally we'd approach our dad and proclaim that we simply could not finish our drinks, and would he like to have the rest? Perhaps because he was distracted, or maybe because the heat affected his powers of reason, he would always say "Sure" and take the can from us, not suspecting a thing. He would raise the can take a big swig until SPEW!! He was sputtering and spitting out the disgusting taste of saltwater. And Ginger and I would double over in laughter, as this clearly was the funniest thing in the world.

Looking back, I'm sure we weren't nearly as devious as we thought, and that he always knew what he was getting himself into. But is there anything funnier than pulling a prank on your dad? We absolutely loved it. To this day we have remembered our hilarious trick, and apparently it has stuck with us enough to become the name of this blog. Thanks, Dad!