Saturday, August 29, 2009

Rosie And Ticky Head To The Beach

My dear friend, Ticky, of Reinventing A Boomer blogdom, was kind enough to come and visit. We had thought that maybe T.S Danny would grace us with some precipitation. It was meh. But we took this tropical storm as a wonderful opportunity to get together, partay, break bread, drink wine, toss back margaritas, and generally have a lot of fun. We did not disappoint.
Now, Ticky has been waiting all summer to visit. She knew I had three children at home. And four dogs. I can't blame her for not coming. Hell, I wouldn't want to come, but I live here and have to be here. Finally, when the children were back at their respective colleges and their puppies with them, Ticky ventured down for a Tropical Storm Danny Par-Tay. Well, it was a Par-Tay. But no tropics. Just a few drops of rain Friday night. We were unimpressed. Oh. Guess who all showed up Friday evening. If you guessed Daughter Hawthorne and Giada and Youngest Hawthorne and Junior you would be correct. Arrrhhhhgggg. I thought they went back to college. For keeps. Sheesh. I remember when I finally got to college, I felt privileged and I appreciated that I was there. I did not drive back home each weekend. I didn't want to. But then I didn't have a Kewl Kar to drive. When I went back home, I took the train. I remember those wonderful train rides home. I always sat in the dining car and I would order a ham and cheese sandwich with a pickle and chips. They were delicious. I was 18. Good times. Lynchburg to Danville. I'm sorry. I've been wandering.
Fast forward to Saturday morning at about 6:45.
We made coffee, scrambled eggs with cheese, biscuits, bacon, country ham, and fried grits. Thusly, Ticky and I were fortified to go out and face the ocean. We wanted to see what T.S. Danny had spawned. Again, a big meh.
Click the pics to enlarge. I love the spray coming off the waves.
Ticky and I were down at the Albatross Access and guess who we ran into. Youngest Hawthorne on the right and our friend, William, on the left, framed by sea oats.
I liked this little bird. He didn't like for his feet to get wet. The surf would come up and he'd run to the sand and if the waves were going to hit his feet, he'd fly.
Here's Youngest Hawthorne catching a wave for maybe a nano-second before being wiped out.
On the way to the beach this morning, Ticky and I went by this house. We didn't take pictures at the time, thinking we'd do it on the way back. Then on the way back, I forgot what street I'd gone on and was trying to go back backwards and had no idea where the house was. Whoot! We found it!
Now. Look at this picture. What is wrong? What is amiss?
Close up. I'd hate to wake up one night and try to find my way to the bathroom and end up on the upper deck. NOT!


Kathy said...

Yeah, I was 3 hours away from home during part of my college time. With. no. car. either.

How did we survive?

I had a lovely 24 hours (approx). Many thanks to you and Mr. Hawthorne.

justjoycee said...

Lovely pics.....

Mr. P said...

I would go home often my Freshman year, but realized by second semester that I was missing out on a good time. If the alcohol age limit was 18 (like it was where/when I went to school), Junior wouldn't have any reason to come home (other than to attempt to surf).

I enjoyed the ocean pics and videos.

Marilyn said...

You're a braver mom than I am. I'd be in need of therapy after watching my child surf the ocean.