I had hopes, which I held out till the bitter, improbably end, of getting away this summer, of spending a significant chunk of time on the road, camping out, visiting family and friends and wild places, in general going feral. These hopes were, of course, dashed, at the last possible minute, as anyone with an iota of common sense could easily have predicted.
One thing I had most looked forward to was totally unscheduled, unstructured time with my kids. Time not spent rushing to get somewhere, or exhausted after returning from somewhere. Time with me relaxed and happy, rather than tense and grumpy. I had a whole bag of tricks stored up for the chilled-out down-time in between miles of driving and visiting and sight-seeing, things we don't normally have time to do between work and school and just barely hanging on to a semblance of household order.
The first on my list was to be henna tattoos (I pictured it as an activity for our first campsite somewhere in the wilds of Western Massachusetts). I spent the weekend trying to salvage a bit of summer and spontaneity, first with those tattoos:
|The boys got right into the spirit of it.|
|Practicing for the real thing.|
|Even the mama got in the act (perhaps an alternate career route now that the other one's not working out so well?)|
Then we headed to our favorite beach, to swim, play in the sand, look for crabs and even (some of us) bury our selves in the sand holding one end of a rope with a cheese cracker tied to the other end, trying to catch seagulls.
We've been having New Jersey weather around here (no offense to anyone from New Jersey, but the one time I was there for more than a layover, it was August and hot and humid, and exactly like weather we've been having here off and on for the last couple of weeks), which has encouraged a little al fresco dining in the evenings, with pretty tablecloths and unbreakable plates.
It's not exactly picnicking at the foot of Long's Peak, but I suppose it will have to do.