the best laid plans. . . . .

Well, as you know I posted about my new and improved schedule last time and promised to tell you all about the beach this time. Since I am failing miserably at keeping my schedule, I will at least tell you about the beach. Really failing miserably. I've actually kept it twice, been close twice and really missed it the rest of the time. Anyway,

The beach was really great. There were not many perve opportunities (Hi Chicky) since it was not a public beach and apparently we were in old-ville. Lots of mid 50's and older crowd with the grandchildren or parents with elementary age kids. Of course, what do I really expect from staying in an RV park. The weekend brought in a few people to casually appreciate, but only a few. It didn't really matter since 90% of my time was devoted to playing with my daughter.

I was buried in the sand twice, climbed on inumerable times, had handfuls of wet sand rubbed on me (kinda like a really aggressive exfoliation) and thrown everywhere. Built some sand castles and watched her treat them like Godzilla treats Tokyo (hilarious to watch). Played in knee deep water stooped over to hold her hand until I thought I would never be able to straighten up (two nights ago, I finally became fully upright again - I was going to say I became fully erect again, but I figured there were too many dirty minds out there already and with the subject matter being what it is, it just seemed creapy and gave me a the heebie-jeebies).

Momentary aside, Heebie-Jeebies is a great word/phrase. Everyone knows what they are, and completely understands the feeling. It is a top 20 word. What is in your top 20 words?

Ok, so the daughter and beach. She's almost 2 now, and is more than I can handle sometimes. I don't think we are ready for her yet. . . . by we, I mean the world. She is not two but she loves to jump off the side of the pool into the water and as soon as I scoop her out of the water she points to the edge of the pool and starts to choke out "agin Da-dee, agin, agin". She uses one hand to push the water streaming down her face out of the way and the other to point. She charges into the waves on the beach and gets rolled in the sand and dunked, salt water in her eyes and ears and pouring out of her mouth as she stands up giggling and says, "chase da waves, Da-dee. Chase em". She wants to ride the "motee-sikee" (not just sit on it now, but actually ride it), jump off the couch, climb onto the table and dance (this one worries me a little - but possible career choices are not a big concern right now - at least I hope not) and knows more words than I do. I am so in trouble. . . . . .

Now if I could just get on schedule, then the world would be right.