It’s amazing what a week with a view will do to your perspective.
Especially when this is your view.
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| I sat up in bed and snapped this picture one morning. |
My uncle visited for a few days and my brother for just one night.
We got McDaniel’s senior pictures taken by the same lady who took Ellie’s first and second year-old portraits at the beach.
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| This was 6:45 am to beat the heat and the wind off the ocean. |
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| This is one-year-old Ellie at Fripp. I guess we hired the photographer the first year she started her business. So cool! |
We saw more baby turtles make their way to the ocean for the first time along with egrets and storks!
My mom and I got pooped on by pelicans flying over the deck of our beach house!
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| That’s what didn’t get on us. |
My mom exclaimed,
“It smells like fish!”
Better than a bad hot dog,
I guess.
I had the weirdest dream while I was on vacation.
I was in an interview and I was asked my age.
I said,
“27…??”
with as much confidence as a kid lying about not eating candy
with said candy smeared all over their face.
Except I had “SO NOT 27” smeared all over my face.
In this dream I was scolding myself,
“Why did you say that?!
You aren’t even CLOSE to 27!
Tell them your real age!”
I tried to figure out how to sneak into the interview conversation my real age while also keeping my chances of actually getting the job intact.
So saying,
“Just kidding! I’m really 46.”
Wasn’t going to cut it.
I woke up before I figured out what to say.
I didn’t realize until we were taking Ellie and her friends to a belated birthday dinner, that this is what you’d call a "lucid dream".
In fact, I’m not sure I’d ever heard the term “lucid dream” before.
But every 14-year-old girl in my car had.
Wikipedia describes it this way:
A lucid dream is any dream during which the dreamer is aware that they are dreaming. During lucid dreaming, the dreamer may be able to exert some degree of control over the dream characters, narrative, and environment.
Except for the part that I couldn’t seem to get ME
to say the correct age in an interview,
that was the most lucid dream I can recall.
I don’t usually have a whole lot of control in my dreams.
If I did, would I really choose to be chased
by an angry hippopotamus?
I don’t usually have a whole lot of control in my dreams.
If I did, would I really choose to be chased
by an angry hippopotamus?
We celebrated Ellie’s 14th birthday at the beach.
She unwrapped her presents on the deck of the beach house looking out over the ocean.
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| My mom got her a sewing machine. |
I have a new goal now of unwrapping presents
for my birthday on the deck of a beach house
looking out over the ocean.
Except my birthday is in November so we will have to be
further south than South Carolina for that dream to come true.
And quite frankly,
if we are at the beach in November,
my birthday will already be made
so no need for any presents!
My daughter, McDaniel, has been nannying three kids over the summer. She drives them to various activities and plans fun things for them to do.
She had them set up a lemonade stand and the kids wanted to charge $2.00 a cup!
$2.00!
McDaniel had to explain the economics of
what the market will support.
Then she took all three of the kids to the pool and one of the girls got stung three times by a hornet, one being IN THE EYE.
By the time she got to McDaniel, her eye was swollen shut.
McDaniel had to meet the mom in the driveway to explain why her daughter looked like she had been in a street fight.
McDaniel asked me later how I ever survived motherhood.
Quite honestly, I don’t know.
Moving on with my random summer happenings…
Ellie got tickets for her and a friend to the Demi Lavato/Nick Jonas concert for Christmas.
It was a few Wednesdays ago.
I originally thought I’d go as a chaperone for the concert then McDaniel convinced me she should go since she actually enjoys the music.
I’m so glad she did.
I’m too old for loud music
and ALL THE STANDING during a concert for people that I could’ve given birth to
or at least babysat for
while they got stung IN THE EYE
by a hornet at the pool.
The girls had a blast at the concert and came home with the news that the opening act, Mike Posner, came out on stage, sat down and slowly ate a peach.
Then he started throwing peaches into the crowd.
That’s the only moment I regretted
not being at the concert.
I was driving to bible study the other day and noticed the license plate passing me said IMSANTA.
My first thought:
“Santa drives a brown Honda CRV?"
My second thought:
“I HAVE to see who has the nerve to drive around
with an IMSANTA license plate."
I sped up so I could take a look.
Long white hair.
Long white beard.
Small glasses.
Santa!
Mrs. Claus was in the passenger seat with gray, not white, hair and she was wearing sunglasses.
Sunglasses?!
My third thought:
“It’s July. Of course, she’s wearing sunglasses.”
Then I almost crashed into the car in front of me
because I was going way too fast to try to get
a good look at Santa and Mrs. Claus.
I was at the hair salon last week and a guy sat down in the chair beside me. His stylist asked him what was wrong with his foot.
I looked down and saw his heavily ace-bandaged and gauzed-wrapped foot wearing a flip flop.
Except there was no toe crack for his flip flop to rest in.
I’m not exactly sure how the sandal stayed on his foot.
He explained how he hurt it but I focused on reading UNTIL…he mentioned wanting a bionic foot.
Bionic?!
He said,
“It’s not like I’m 40 or anything [ouch] but if I have pain now what will it be like when I’m 40?!” [ouch again]
He went on to say that a bionic foot wouldn’t stink, he wouldn’t have to cut its toenails and wouldn’t have to stare at a hairy, old, nasty foot.
He wasn’t joking.
His hair stylist wasn’t laughing at this absurdity.
She nodded and took it in like she hears requests
for bionic feet every day.
I was left alone with my highlights setting and a large mirror in front of me to reflect my best Bea Arthur look.
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