I would be lying (or gracious) to deny that my fidelity to the inscrutable waters of the Atlantic has been tempted towards wandering since having beheld the crystalline shores of Oahu. However, there remains an exceptional distinguishing quality that even the most cinematic Hawaiian beach fails to proffer: My Family- in all of their endearingly boisterous, dramatic, Kardashian-like glory.
This sentiment is what compelled our Surfside Beach, South Carolina holiday, (that and affection for cheap fireworks and “all you can eat” buffets). Actually, I abhor buffets but do love the hilarity of family game nights of Loaded Questions, a competition enhanced by a glass of wine and embarrassing disclosures. Such occasions invariably produce both “pee your pants” hilarity and actual tears (of laughter) in my dad’s eyes- A rarity, if you know him- both the tears and the laughter.
Further, my children are fanatical about their cousins and I am quite confident the obsession is mutual. On several occasions, I felt obliged to interrupt Eowyn’s wedding planning with “Mal” to remind her that marriage between cousins is only sanctioned in the Old Testament and West Virginia. A dismaying reality to her.
Apparently, Kincaid is an oceanic elitist, since the Atlantic holds as much allure for him as diaper rash. This in turn, means – most significantly- that his irrational fear of the white caps drives his sandy, screaming self into my arms; ergo, Kincaid’s body has exfoliated mine, all week long. I can’t say that I love it. Though, as the picture indicate,s my dad gallantly tolerates both the exfoliating and the pursuant hero-worship by his blue-eyed disciple.
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