Really. I've been hunkered down knitting, and the in-laws had some long-time friends of theirs visit for several days, so I've either been kid wrestling or huddling under a rock. But I'm here.
This morning we went out to a little beach-shack diner/bakery sort of place for breakfast. Bells requested food info, and I didn't have the nerve to take flash photos of my food in the restaurant (believe it or not, some places are banning that, but this didn't seem the place, it just seemed rude). But I got a photo of the menu.
Across the street was the beach, and beyond that, the shrimp boats were out.
And it was all terribly atmospheric if you go for that sort of thing. (Apparently I'm not an Ohio farm kid any more. Twenty years ago I would have thought it was all very romantic. Now I look at the fishing boats and think of pollution and overfishing and feel rather surly.)
The food was really good, though. We intend to go back when the husbeast is here, for the bratwurst breakfast. He will weep joyous tears of beer.
Otherwise, not a lot going on, which is just how I like it on vacation. The Goob's been having a good time.
That's her, blowing bubbles on the porch, and putting on makeup with Grandma. (She got the works - eye shadow and everything. And lipstick. She's big into lipstick.)
For those who'd asked about how Chico gets to the top of the cabinets, he does it the usual way; he jumps up to the counter top, then to the top of the fridge, and from there it's barely a hop up to the cabinets. He's a youngish kitty, barely two.
Information will be going out today, on who is sending socks where for Sock Roulette. I really am on it. Srsly.