Hilton Head Vol. V: The Non-Grand Finale

Reluctantly, we have suspended our seaside holiday until next year. Tan as Sacajawea, we embarked on our eleven hour “jaunt” northbound on scenic Interstate 95. (I think it’s the prolific Cracker Barrel signs that make it most lovely) Initially, the car was sublimely silent, reflective, so we thought, of collective exhaustion. And then, at Eowyn’s enthused request, we turned to praise her Crayola crayoning masterpieces in the backseat only to discover that her artistic conquests included- the passenger door WINDOW. She had colored in the glass window.

How does one punish an offense that has never been expressly forbidden? One does not.

Loathe as I am to leave Hilton Head Island…
1. My hips will benefit from a Flamingos Doughnut Café respite, since a tan can only forgive so much.

2. Kincaid will appreciate sleeping in his crib again, instead of…a closet floor (the Pack and Play somehow never made the trip).

3. Palmetto bugs masquerading as horror movie cockroaches will not share our beds.

4. Wegmans welcomes me home- Piggly Wiggly -by comparison-just stinks (pun intended).

5. The infamous humidity can no longer wreak havoc on our hair and reduce my children to sweaty beasts- even indoors.

6. Caid’s dubious “swimming lessons” with Nonnie will come to an end- as will the allegations from Children and Youth regarding her questionable “instructional methods.”

And finally…

7. Returning North inspires our campaign work for the Republican revolution this November- We almost forgot it was necessary in the idyllic paradise of Ford Trucks emblazoned with this bumper sticker: “I am the gun-toting, flag-waving, God-fearing conservative they warned you about.”

Now back to real life.

Ahh, humidity...