A Real Nice Clambake

September 7, 2014

Well, my vacation is officially coming to an end.  And even though I’ve been home for a few days, I’ve been relaxing and occasionally thinking that I should write a blog post.  On Thursday I thought about how I should write a post on Friday.  On Friday I thought about how I should write a post.  On Saturday I thought about how I should write the post that I didn’t write on Friday.  And now it’s Sunday.  And since my vacation really and truly is nearly over, I decided I should actually do something vaguely resembling my non-vacation life.  (Excepting laundry and grocery shopping, of course.  Both of those things had much more urgency.)

We had a lovely time in the Outer Banks.  For the most part.  The separation in my pubic symphysis made it impossible for me to walk on sand without a great deal of discomfort.  Nothing like going to the ocean without being able to actually go to the ocean.  And there was a charming bout of car sickness on the drive back to Michigan.  But, hey, that’s why I packed a barf bucket.  And we were on the Ohio Turnpike, so the service plazas were nice and frequent.

But we really did have a real nice clambake.  With clams… and mussels… and crabs… and shrimp… and scallops…  Can’t say I really got my fill of seafood; there just weren’t enough meals in the day.

And we went to the National Park at Kitty Hawk.  It was awesome.  They’ve got it all planted with grass, so it’s not sandy the way it was when the Wright Brothers were there, and there’s just something about walking the flight line that they took back in December of 1903.  If you find yourself there, make sure to check out the sculpture on the far side of Kill Devil Hill.  It replicates the famous photo of the flyer just as it’s taken off, allowing visitors to walk through it and stand at the perspective of not only the individuals in the photo, but the photographer himself.  It’s probably my favorite part of our visit.

And after that, we stopped at a fabulous yarn shop.  My mom and I both bought hand-dyed skeins of sock yarn.  The owner of Knitting Addiction told us that while the dyer actually does live in Texas, she used to be a local and still is inspired by the local colors in the skeins that she sends them to sell.  She also has a yarn truck that travels to parts of the state that don’t have a local yarn shop (or even a Walmart, so not even a chance to buy cheap synthetics that feel like plastic when you knit let alone something nice!).  Think of the bookmobile only with yarn.

On Monday, I finally told my nieces that I’m pregnant.  (Yes, all of the adults present already knew.)  I overheard Felicity say to my mom that she hopes this baby doesn’t die, too.  My mom told her that we all hoped the same thing.  (I texted with Paula a bit a couple of days ago and told her, too.  Not that we’ve ever stopped thinking of each other every day, but obviously the closer we get to the anniversaries of Sofia’s and Sebastion’s too brief existences, I know she’s on my mind more than usual.  Pretty sure the same is true on Paula’s end.)

And then I emailed the family.  One message for my mom’s side.  One message for my dad’s side.  Heard back from everyone on my mom’s side of the family.  Didn’t hear a peep from any of the Banner’s until one of my aunts sent me a separate message.  Weird, huh?  The German has apparently come out in our normally Irish family!  My cousins will be up from Texas in a couple of weeks, so there will be a Family Dinner.  It will be interesting to see how that goes.  And I’m all prepared for anyone who asks if I have news.  “You didn’t get the email?”

Side Note:  When I was a senior in high school and my brother was junior in college, our grandparents disappeared for most of Mother’s Day.  They’d taken a wrong turn on their way home from church and wound up on the other side of the state where they were finally found several hours later.  They were okay; just minor bumps and bruises from a car accident.  At which point, my mom emailed my brother to say, “They found your grandparents.  They’re okay.”  At which point, my brother picked up the phone and called to say, “What do you mean they found my grandparents?!?!?  They were missing?!?!?!?!?”  We had a long discussion about the appropriate use of email.  “For example,” my brother said, “if the bird dies, you pick up the phone and call.”  The following year, when Matt and I were both in college…  Yep, the bird died.  And our parents insist they discussed this before opting to…  You guessed it.  Email.  It was shortly before Thanksgiving.  And each time a family member asked where the bird was, my brother and I gave them a blank look and said, “You didn’t get the email?”

But I digress.  I’ve had a lovely time reading books for pleasure instead of studying for the CCMEP exam.  (I swear I meant to pack my flashcards!)  And knitting.  I knit an entire pair of socks and am into the foot of the next pair.

And now I’m trying to psych myself up for the fact that I have to go to work tomorrow.

I leave you with two of the things that were making me happy over the past two weeks:

  1. Watching my dad braid my nieces’ hair.  My mom and I are pretty sure that it’s the first time he’s ever braided anyone’s hair.  He certainly never did mine when I was growing up.  And he’d never done theirs.  And it was adorable.  He had the most intense look of concentration on his face, right down to holding his tongue in the right spot.  You know how it works — sometimes you just have to hold your tongue in the right spot in order to be able to do it right.
  2. This interview with Carl Kasell from On The Media.  There is a are several reasons we all love him.

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