Head 'Em Up, Move 'Em Out

About two hours into the little "side trip" we call "aquarium," I was ready to leave. I started giving Pa the I AM DONE, D-O-N-E DONE, AND WE'D BETTER LEAVE IN THE NEXT THREE SECONDS look.

I'm really fun to take along on a trip, as you see.

So we let the kids blow off a bit more steam on some statues before we stuffed ourselves back in the van.

This turtle got us to quoting any number of Nemo lines:

And look! Suz sat still!

And Campers crawled around on the (boring! this is boring!) statues like the Olympic gymnast he consistently pretends to be:

And pretty soon even he was giving Pa the CAN WE GO YET; I AM DONE ALREADY speech.

I train my children well.

Coastal Aquarium

We finally learned that any road trip with kids involves a stop every 27 minutes. Every 30 on a good day. So now we just plan these little "side trips," deceiving ourselves into thinking It's All About The Journey, Not The Destination.

(If you need posters with cheesy sayings? I know who to call.)

So on our way down the coast, we saw the brochures! And the signs! For the best! Aquarium!

What I saw was the price! Of admission! To smell stinky fish!

But The Fun People won out.

You know, I'm gonna start carrying a white flag in my purse.

Yeah, so the kids in the matching red shirts were mine, yada yada yada.

And here they got to watch some swimming beast getting fed, blah blah blah:

And pet the sea anemones and starfish:

And take a gander at the Giant Crab--both IN the cage and standing right behind:

Oh, but I eventually lightened up. I do that roughly five minutes of every day. Keeps the children guessing.

So the aquarium had one of those "shark tunnels" you could walk under and what did we see?

One of those Man Sharks, cleaning the tank. We convinced poor Zig it was a Mer-man. I must have stared and giggled at that poor employee for at least five minutes. Talk about a complex. I'll bet he waves his white flag too.

(Stupid grumble grumble grumble grumble tourists.)

But, we got to blow some money AND some energy at the same time. Now that's what I call a quality vacation.

Death Grip

I'm not namin' any names, but ONE of the members of our family would have run straight into the ocean, head first, had I not held tightly to "her" hand.

Just saying it might have been the Suz.

No Fear...that girl has No Fear.

Devil's Punchbowl

We flew past the sign for Devil's Punchbowl on our recent trip down the coast. Next thing I know, Pa is hollerin' about turnin' around! And stoppin'! And gettin' out to see such a fame-urse site!

So has everybody else heard of this place or am I totally out of touch?

Might not want to answer that.

So this "punchbowl" you see--looks like this:

I guess a wintertime storm is the best time to see the bowl in action, with waves a crashin' all up that natural phenomenon.

Pa and I saw those folks walking around the edge of the punchbowl, took one look at each other and said:

NOPE.

We kept our kids behind the fence and in the stroller, thankyouverymuch.

Lovely little landmark, though.

(Speaking of the waves in the ocean and NOT the ones on my legs.)

(And for those of you who are addicted to scoping out every beach on the Oregon coast--the beach pictures you've seen so far all came from the one right beside Devil's Punchbowl.)

Because Wetness Is Just A Frame Of Mind

First thing Zig and Campers did at the beach was dig in the sand.

(Caveboys... Must... Get... Dirty!)

Then there's that pesky need to wash off.

Such hard work. What a bother.

And once Zig got soaked from the tip of his toes to the pit of his arms, it was time to head out.

Beach Pedicure

This is the kind of toenail polish I can really get into.

Who Me?

Suz: Hmmmm, I wonder what this is?

(squirt squirt)

(lather lather)

"Sope! Sope!"

(hand lotion to be exact)

Just more proof why I get "nothing" done all day.

If We Were Looking For A Wide Open Space, I Guess We Found It

The nice thing about the beaches along the Oregon coast is that there's little competition for space. I mean, it's not like people are rushing to swim in the icy cold water or soak up the rays on a 60 degree day.

So we had plenty of space to run around, and could step back far enough to get a clear panorama of the place:

I had to knock Pa down and snatch his camera to get that shot.

Which left him in charge of the little tornado. Cute little tornado, but a tornado nonetheless.

And since I was the photographer of this mediocre shot, let me just wax picture-ophical about it a bit. Check out those reflections! The pink one of Suz is particularly cute.

This is just the first beach we visited. There are two more.

Consider yourself warned.

This Is A Test. This Is Only A Test.

We interrupt our regularly scheduled obnoxiously long series on Da Beach to bring you this:

I love it that my friend turned a year older and *I* got to go out for dessert.

WITHOUT THE HOOLIGANS.

It's like--I actually tasted my food. And sat still long enough for the calories to take up residence in my butt.

Oh by the way? That dessert is an "almond/hazelnut meringue with a praline butter cream and chocolate ganache."

Try not to drool on your desk.

(This is a test; this is only a test. More reasons to hate me beach pictures tomorrow.)

If You Looked Up "Contentment" In The Dictionary, This Is What You'd See

Our Suz hits the highs and lows of the full emotional spectrum. Bubbles and sunshine one minute; thistles and screams the next. We always know what she's feeling--that's for sure.

And then there's the Mini Me. He may have inherited the toothpick lean and mean body of his paternal predecessors, but he got his personality from me.

Scary.

Our Campers doesn't exactly wear his emotions on his sleeve, is all I'm sayin'. So seeing him all happy and smiley at the coast was something.

His hovering black cloud gave way to the simple delight of discovering a pretty neat part of God's creation:

The beach.

In all its wet and dirty glory.