GPOYW: The “Confirmed Today, It’s 99.9% a Girl and She Has HIS Feet” Edition.
“Oh, my. Don’t buy any newborn shoes.”
—Independent sentiments from two separate baby zappers. (I don’t care how big her feet are, as long the toes are arranged correctly — in size order.)
Stop. Or begin as you intend to go on. Either. In any event, cappuccino bookends to a trip that went way too quickly.
We made it back to Venice this morning with all EIGHT pieces of concerns (plus a pink flowery stroller) — a miracle feat, considering the trans-Atlantic, circum-continent trip we took them on — and had enough time for coffee before our ride besides.
“Do you two speak English?”
“Oh GOOD. Can you help me order one of those?”
A chat with an Army mom here to visit was a nice straddle of the cultural divide and the whiplash of being back.
“Does everything look weird?”
“It always does when you’ve been away.”
Except the Welcoming Catmittee. He looks precisely the same.
Sunset pool games (with my face IN the water) after lunch on the beach, on our last day in Florida.
With bonus proof of the fun fact I learned many decades after I should have: pineapples don’t grow on trees, nor does anyone live in them under the sea — they grow on plants on the patio.
I hear in the southern parts, you’re supposed to take the car to the Sonic Drive-In for a cherry limeade. We took the boat for a Paddle-Up lunch instead. (You see more dolphins that way.)
Cherry limeade sold separately.
Yes, friends, you see correctly — that is THE historical, genesis, origin-story HOOTERS. When I travel, I make it a point to visit all of the local cultural points of interest.
Clearwater, Florida, site of the first hoot.
The Bro would think much less of me had I not stopped in to pay my respects with curly fries and scrunch socks. (Seriously, they must only still make those suckers to complete the Hootiforms.)
An unusual place to celebrate some unexpected news. You know that Foreign Exchange Student we’ve been calling “he?”
Apparently, it’s a GIRL. Whoo knew!?!
“‘Marine Pests?’ You mean like ocean termites?”
In Florida, where the coast is called the beach — yet they still keep it on the correct side…
I’m being taunted. The Bro posts a photo of Oregon in the morning (photo credit: shamelessly stolen, that’s what you get for giving it to the Zuckerbergs)…
Ryan’s mom sends a photo of the beach in Florida…
And I’m counting down the two weeks until we leave for both. Target, you guys. Okay, family THEN Target.
I suppose I can keep myself occupied in the meantime. It IS going to be clear and beautiful today, and they DO keep the fancy laying-out chairs next to the hot springs…
I cleaned the house yesterday, I have three books on my clicky, and WEEKEND.