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la_rainetteFroglet and Tadpole *frolick in the lake*
Froglet: Look, Mum! We're playing mermaids. I'm the mum mermaid, and Tadpole is the baby mermaid.
Tadpole *squeals oblinginly*
Froglet: Do you want to play with us? You can be the grandmother mermaid!
rainette *blinks*
Wait 'til I tell my mum she's just been promoted great-grand-mother mermaid, ahahahahahaha.
In other news, we're back. :D We had a grand time, and after a moment of doubt (the night it rained, aka the night the ants found out that our tent might be a more comfy place than their nest after all -- think Nick Stokes in the CSI 4th season finale), I relaxed and let the good times take over.
The weather was great. I went through my usual OMG LOBSTER! phase, but even I look like a freshly baked baguette now. The girls look like cute cinnamon buns, and Husband has gone all the way to overcooked gingerbread man. We look EDIBLE, I tell you, we still have that summer sunshine glow.
The girls also have the cutest tan lines: you could play tick-tack-toe with their backs. (Tadpole sports a big tanned circle in an ocean of white skin, and Froglet has a white cross clearly etched on her very brown back). I hadn't anticipated that their hair would grow that much, and now their bangs come half-way down their noses, ack. I need to take them to the hairstylist pronto.
We had the most interesting neighbours in our campsite. They brought half their house with them, including a large piece of grass-coloured carpet to put under their feet (which they carefully swept with a gigantic broom every morning), several tables (a few of which weren't the folding kind, I might add), 2 (TWO!) big propane BBQs (wtf, people?), one large grey plastic garbage bin, and a HUGE tarp that they fixed above their whole site thanks to a complicated web of string that would make any spider very very proud.
I kept waiting for them to unpack their living-room couch.
For the beach, they had a four-post sort of pasha-like canopy-tent, that they set up every day regardless of the weather. On the windiest day we had, it took four bewildered teenagers to keep it from flying away, one for each post. (Husband: look, they even brought a tent with caryatids!)
Being the very curious person that I am, I was dying to go over and check out what esle they had brought, but I never dared do it. There were too many of them, and you could never be sure that they hadn't left one behind, wherever it was that they had gone. Especially the grandad who seemed to have forgotten his denture and spent most days just sitting on his chair and brooding.
Now, we were lucky that we decided to go on a day-trip to the 1,000 islands (which are in fact 1,862, if I remember well. Whoever counted must have lost heart half-way through). We took the opportunity to buy a few postcards over there, which was just as well, cos we didn't find any where we were staying.
We tried Bloomfield. "I don't think you will find postcards here", a cheerful shop-keeper called Tammy explained. "You'd have to go to Picton for that. That's why people use emails now, you know", she added with a pitying smile. Ahahahahaha no kidding. So we went to Picton. We tried all the shops she had suggested.
Zilch. Nada.
I did, after half an hour of frantic searching, find one postcard with a couple of suitably Canadian-looking loons playing in the water.
Unfortunately, it also had Happy Father's Day written on it, in Pretty Golden Letters. This is where I nearly snapped. For a second, I considered sending wildly innapropriate event-cards to everyone. Happy retirement card, Happy 50th anniversary cards, you name it. And then I came back to my senses and realized that it would cost a bloody stupid fortune, so I gave up.
We drove all the way up to Belleville, and I found several copies of the same BLOODY AWFUL postcard there. So. If you get a Bloody Awful postcard from me in the days to come, it doesn't mean that I don't love you. It means that it was the best I could find in a 30-mile radius.
As luck would have it, no sooner had I written/sent the card than we found the Perfect Postcards, at the Campground store, where we had gone to buy matches.
Needless to say, they were completely out of matches. *headthunk*
In other news, it's good to be back. :D And how are you guys?
Froglet: Look, Mum! We're playing mermaids. I'm the mum mermaid, and Tadpole is the baby mermaid.
Tadpole *squeals oblinginly*
Froglet: Do you want to play with us? You can be the grandmother mermaid!
rainette *blinks*
Wait 'til I tell my mum she's just been promoted great-grand-mother mermaid, ahahahahahaha.
In other news, we're back. :D We had a grand time, and after a moment of doubt (the night it rained, aka the night the ants found out that our tent might be a more comfy place than their nest after all -- think Nick Stokes in the CSI 4th season finale), I relaxed and let the good times take over.
The weather was great. I went through my usual OMG LOBSTER! phase, but even I look like a freshly baked baguette now. The girls look like cute cinnamon buns, and Husband has gone all the way to overcooked gingerbread man. We look EDIBLE, I tell you, we still have that summer sunshine glow.
The girls also have the cutest tan lines: you could play tick-tack-toe with their backs. (Tadpole sports a big tanned circle in an ocean of white skin, and Froglet has a white cross clearly etched on her very brown back). I hadn't anticipated that their hair would grow that much, and now their bangs come half-way down their noses, ack. I need to take them to the hairstylist pronto.
We had the most interesting neighbours in our campsite. They brought half their house with them, including a large piece of grass-coloured carpet to put under their feet (which they carefully swept with a gigantic broom every morning), several tables (a few of which weren't the folding kind, I might add), 2 (TWO!) big propane BBQs (wtf, people?), one large grey plastic garbage bin, and a HUGE tarp that they fixed above their whole site thanks to a complicated web of string that would make any spider very very proud.
I kept waiting for them to unpack their living-room couch.
For the beach, they had a four-post sort of pasha-like canopy-tent, that they set up every day regardless of the weather. On the windiest day we had, it took four bewildered teenagers to keep it from flying away, one for each post. (Husband: look, they even brought a tent with caryatids!)
Being the very curious person that I am, I was dying to go over and check out what esle they had brought, but I never dared do it. There were too many of them, and you could never be sure that they hadn't left one behind, wherever it was that they had gone. Especially the grandad who seemed to have forgotten his denture and spent most days just sitting on his chair and brooding.
Now, we were lucky that we decided to go on a day-trip to the 1,000 islands (which are in fact 1,862, if I remember well. Whoever counted must have lost heart half-way through). We took the opportunity to buy a few postcards over there, which was just as well, cos we didn't find any where we were staying.
We tried Bloomfield. "I don't think you will find postcards here", a cheerful shop-keeper called Tammy explained. "You'd have to go to Picton for that. That's why people use emails now, you know", she added with a pitying smile. Ahahahahaha no kidding. So we went to Picton. We tried all the shops she had suggested.
Zilch. Nada.
I did, after half an hour of frantic searching, find one postcard with a couple of suitably Canadian-looking loons playing in the water.
Unfortunately, it also had Happy Father's Day written on it, in Pretty Golden Letters. This is where I nearly snapped. For a second, I considered sending wildly innapropriate event-cards to everyone. Happy retirement card, Happy 50th anniversary cards, you name it. And then I came back to my senses and realized that it would cost a bloody stupid fortune, so I gave up.
We drove all the way up to Belleville, and I found several copies of the same BLOODY AWFUL postcard there. So. If you get a Bloody Awful postcard from me in the days to come, it doesn't mean that I don't love you. It means that it was the best I could find in a 30-mile radius.
As luck would have it, no sooner had I written/sent the card than we found the Perfect Postcards, at the Campground store, where we had gone to buy matches.
Needless to say, they were completely out of matches. *headthunk*
In other news, it's good to be back. :D And how are you guys?
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no subject
Date: 2005-08-10 07:48 am (UTC)Yay, postcard! We got yours! I'm glad you had fun, but am SO GLAD you're back. *squishes you*
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Date: 2005-08-10 07:52 am (UTC)School starts on the 22nd of this month here. The 22ND. *flail* This is too early!
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Date: 2005-08-10 08:04 am (UTC)strangeinteresting neighbours :D(no subject)
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Date: 2005-08-10 08:14 am (UTC)I missed you. Glad you had fun, even with the postcard trauma. I am good, very happy, and (boringly) mostly whining about my job hunting, so you didn't miss much on my end! Lol.
*hugs some more*
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Date: 2005-08-10 08:20 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-08-10 08:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-08-10 12:38 pm (UTC)I'm glad to see I'm not the only one who had trouble postcard-finding. Postcards are evidently a dying art! We should petition to save them. Or something. ;P
I have kindof a zillion things to say. Its been a long time since we've talked! I may have to *gasp* update the lj instead though. School starts in 2 weeks and a day. On a Thursday. mhm.
eeee, I'm glad you had a good trip. You all sound very tasty. *glomps*
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Date: 2005-08-10 01:12 pm (UTC)Yay! I was thinking about you this morning and then here you appear. I'm glad the trip was fun. It sounds like you had a blast. Weird people make everything more fun. At least I think so because I'm nosy and like to watch them. And I completely understand about wanting to go have look around at what all they brought. It would have killed me not to. This is where inevitable I do something that turns my life into an I Love Lucy episode.
*glomps you again*
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Date: 2005-08-10 05:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-08-10 06:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2005-08-12 05:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
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