da beach.

I've been a bad blogger.

Again.

This time I blame the trifecta of the holiday weekend, Anne of Avonlea, and carpal tunnel syndrome.

I don't actually have carpal-tunnel, but if I go on long bloggy breaks like this I'm pretty much guaranteed not to acquire it.

We made a last-minute decision to join some friends at a beach house for a couple of nights over the long weekend. This was the view from the back patio.

I'd say it was a good decision.

It's always a good thing to get some sand in between your toes, you know.

The beach just has a different feel to it; it's easy to relax.

Until you read about the shark attack that happened there a few days prior.
Then it's a good time to stay in the beach house.

There was a large bag of chocolate candy located in the beach house, and chocolate doesn't bite.

I bite it.

Once we returned back home, the rest of our weekend was spent with friends-- swimming and eating.

It was a great holiday with lots of family time for us. The only downer was that Josh brought home a huge deployment bag filled with all sorts of goodies.
I stopped watching him go through it after he pulled out the gun holster.

I have no doubts about his ability to drop bombs and wield the aircraft gun, but I am slightly concerned about all of his toes making it home safely if he's packin' the heat on the way to the latrine.

But we have a couple months left and I refuse to think about it.
Mostly.

And that Pat the Bunny is up to all her bunny tricks. She is attempting to talk me into spending the entire 6 months in Michigan floating around between our family.
Now, I know a lot of you say that PtB stories are your favorite and you want to know when she'll be my victim appearing in my blog again, but even you have to admit that living with family for 6 months might render one mentally unstable.

Anyone?

Anyone?

Bueller?