the horror of beach party

So I've officially moved out of that charming color known as dead fishbelly and into merely deathly ill, so I feel like healthy color is only a hop, skip, and a few hours of sunlight away.

Not that my dead fishbelly white ass is getting anywhere *near* natural light for the next year or so. *shivers* It's--bright. Have you people seen this hot, merciless ball of evil in the sky? It like, shines down all day, except, curiously, at night, and I'm still trying to work out the mystery of that. Very strange.

However, salt water is fun. It would have been *more* fun if my youngest sister hadn't brightly reported, around the time I got knee-deep in the gulf-- "Hey, did you know there have been two shark attacks in Galveston?"

Thank you, Miss Information. Didn't help that the TV was on non-stop Discovery Channel, and hey, who the hell *knew* that it was freaking Shark Week?

Mmm. Big fun.

*sigh*

Even when we are boring, my family vacations are an adventure.



The Tribe

That's what I call us. You know those horrifying family rituals that require everyone to be together? That's us. Growing up, it was my grandparents, parents, grandma's nephew, who is near her age, his wife, and some cousins. These days, it's The Tribe--my parents, me and my son, my sister and her husband, their kid, his two kids, my other sister and *her* boyfriend. We took two cars. Well, a Suburban and a Mazsa. Guess where all the stuff was packed.

That's just a *lot* of people, many blood related, all non-even-tempered, and all of us with Specific Ideas of what constitutes vacation. Except Sister's Boyfriend, who cleverly hid to avoid such things. Smart boy. Me likes.

We all survived and no one drowned accidentally at sea when someone might accidentaly hold someone under the water. Really, that's all anyone can ask.

Sunblock and Skill

I really can't emphasize enough the fact that this ball of light people call "the sun" really wrecks havoc when left unattended in it. I smeared on SPF-45 and SPF-30 on all visible skin, non visible skin, and some imaginary skin, just to be safe, braved the nightmare in a halter bathing suit, and *still* managed a light sunburn on my back. However, I built two very cool sandforts. I rock.

We learned an art known as "skimming"--learned being a really optimistic term for it. Here's, apparently, how it works.

You see shallow water, say, two inches or so. You take the equivalent of a piece of rather overpriced plywood--fiberglass, whatever--and throw it on the water, I assume to let it live in the wild among its brethren or something. But then, you *run after it*--no, wait, it gets *weirder*--and *jump on it* to slow its speed. Usually, it carries you a few feet, or ten, before you either slow down or you, say, fall ungracefully onto your ass when the little bastard throws you, since it obviously wants to live free.

Now, me, if you want the plywood so much, I say, don't throw it at all, but you know, youngsters these days.

Yes, I fell on my ass. Multiple times. You want to make something of it?

*rubs hip*

Large Fish That Look Hungry

We went to the state aquarium in Corpus, which was big fun. Lots of fish, lots of big fish, lots of small fish, what looked like FULL GROWN KILLER SHARKS BEHIND A MERE THIN PANE OF GLASS NOT THAT I PANICKED OR ANYTHING and you know, big fun.

Tiny little hammerheads, who yes, small mouths, but could totally take my finger or a chunk of usable skin. Jellyfish. They let us in there! They let children in there! Grouper and what looked like mutated things from the dentist's aquarium and we escaped with our lives, but just barely. Then--a stingray and shark petting pool!!!

It was weird. They took turns.

Okay, it's a pretty big pool. Shallowish water. You were encouraged to pet them when they came by. They all gathered in teh middle of the pool, sharks and small flat stingrays that I swear, looked like something I'd made from playdoh, and they'd look at us with what passed for eyes, kind of sigh, then nudge each other.

Then one--one--would patiently make the round of the pool, letting itself be touched by everyone, then go back to the middle, like it was such such a chore, oh, poor me, I'm a captive stingray who must be petted, oh horror. *rolls eyes* When it got back, another one would kind of sigh, lug itself up, and fly-swim-whatever around the pool.

The sharks yawned and didn't even bother. Stupid antisocial things with razor sharp teeth.

The turtle tank wasn't much better. Einstein, the Turtle That Didn't Want To Leave Captivity But Kept Stranding Itself (read it on the plaque) kept eyballing me, and you know, I didn't like how he seemed to be speculating on how I tasted, 'kay?

We won't discuss the otters, because they are slick and move fast and I think I remember one of their cousins, who I will call Psycho Squirrel, who once jumped at me from a tree in my fragile youth.

The dolphins, as far as I can tell, weren't out to eat me, but they spent a lot of time swimming meaningfully, which you know, I'm not *paranoid* or anything, but they certainly acted like they would have *fun* seeing me scream in horror.

I really think I should avoid all signs of nature. I think it's all out to get me.

Things That Don't Fit In Those Categories

Child had a blast everywhere. We swam, we ate, we made castles, we ate, we ate, God I love vacation, unlimited twenty-four hour buffet everywhere. I bought tasteless souvenirs for friends and narrowly avoided things made of seashells, since I wans't sure how they'd ship. I spent an inordinate amount of time in the equivalent of underwear and nothing else--what sort of sadist designed thick underwear and decided to call it "swimwear"? What on earth happened to teh good old days of full body covering?

There were far too many males in speedos to count. I may never have sex again with those kinds of visions. Neither might they, from the tightness of those speedos, either.

I did all the arranging of luggage and goods for the return home. The mess the others were making of it was unreal, so I lured them away with stories of Child making sandcastles in the living room and repacked everything myself. I am Jennifer, Fitter of Things Into Small Spaces, which is freakishly less impressive than Jennifer, Destroyer of Worlds, or Jennifer, Conqueror of the Universe, but everything has to start somewhere.

Though you know, it probably would have been a *better* idea not to open the back door* on the Suburban before chatting with me.

Ah well, live and learn.



Things in my Inbox

I haven't actually been able to access my email since Thursday night with any kind fo reliability.

I'd like to thank Lj for sending so many posts from months ago=-mintwitch, I am getting things from you dated June. Um. I'll answer? Sorry about the delay. logovo--thanks for the email about the hotlinking. I'm going to to have to, I guess, put up hotlink protection or something. That was annoying.

behindtheslash--hehehe--first expose is on svmadelyn. I'm happy. Though my really really *cool* meatloaf analogy wasn't in there, which I think told a *lot*.

Okay, I miss anything? Did any QaF people post ficness? *hopeful*

Oooh, sv_undercover is up! *dances* I can't wait to look!