So I started this all-encompassing post, oh...at least two weeks ago with tons of photos and I could not I mean Could Not get the photos in the order I wanted them. Either I am trying to force blogger to do things it cannot or I just cannot figure out how to gently force it to do what I want and I do not have the time/desire to learn so here I am. No photos, no 10,000 word entry covering the last six weeks or two months or however long it has been since I posted, just today.
Today is Labor Day. I don't count it being "tomorrow" until I have gone to bed and woken up, so today is still Labor Day. And guess what we did? This may come as a complete shock, but we went to the beach. For the whole day. And had a glorious time. And had an enormous delicious and fabulous family dinner whilst the early evening breeze blew off the perfectly green Atlantic Ocean and caressed our sunkissed cheeks.
Just past the breaks is Magdalena and my favorite place to hang out in the ocean, we've named all the waves according to how we should approach them, as in: "floater", a wide gentle swell that we barely have to move for, one that we gently float up with; "under" a huge wave that is about to break on our heads that will send us tumbling in frothy white bubbling sea foam with a possible abrasion from bouncing off the bottom if we do not dive under it; "over" a biggish wave that we can either jump off the bottom and clear or swim to the crest of just before it breaks; M - "under!" me - "over!" a wave that is about to crash on our heads that Magdalena doesn't think she can clear but I do that as I clear it I have to turn my head towards the shore so the crest doesn't smash me in the face but just makes my hair go all wonky. There are a few more, but I believe you get the picture.
The Degeneffes joined us on the beach today and they were a perfect compliment to the Storch/Houston/Barnas clan day. The children romped and played and daddy Joe aka Bobo aka Mr Degeneffe pulled the girls waaaaay out into the waves in Tita's two man blow up boat and would release them into the biggest waves he could wait for so they could ride the most amazing bucking bronco that is a crashing wave - screaming wildly laughing maniacally - to the shore, only to reload and go back for more. Jen joined Magdalena and I for some deep swimming and could not remember the last time she was able to swim so freely, not just in the shallows holding onto the hand of a giggling toddler.
Tito Chuchi had his fishing rig all set up and was out casting, water chest deep, curls a-flying trying to round up a bit of fresh sea fare. The Houston clan came out en masse, not a one missing, shining and sparkling as they are known to do. Jeanna a vision in her hot pink ruffles, face a mask of horror as she watched Joe let the boat go on huge waves, watching those poor innocent children have the ride of their lives...we all know, the daddies do it differently. And dropping words like jejune at dinner, (me) what does that mean? (Dave) puerile. Oh those Houstons! Those academics and brainiacs!
Dinner was a riot of stories and food, as it should be. There was even an official children's table tonight. Oh how I love a children's table. And sweet Abuela. At the table, Jeanna said, these are the good old days, referring to our Mother's noblesse oblige at always being the hostess with the mostess, and not just the oceanfront thing, just her momminess. Her fervor to serve, to loveliness, her humility. These are the good old days, and while I do believe we have a lifetime of them in front of us, I would not want to miss a second of honoring how truly special these days are. How incredibly blessed we are, how fortunate, how alive.
