7/29/2012

Let's Go Fly a Kite

I'm a born and bread Vermont girl, which means that rather than spending my summer vacations at the beach, I spent them either in the river below our house or in our swimming pool. Now, don't get me wrong, I am in no way, shape, or form complaining about having had to swim in the river or our pool. I understand how truly blessed Sonya and I were to have had a swimming pool to call our own, and the truth is that we practically lived in it from June until August. Mom could only get us out to sleep, eat or pee (although I'm not gonna lie, as I kid there were a couple of times when I peed right there in the pool...and you know you did too so don't even make that disgusted face!) but as a child you still always secretly wish you were swimming in the ocean. Because the ocean is big, the ocean is exciting, and the ocean is full of interesting little creatures to poke and prod. 

Sonya and I only ever really got to experience fun at the beach during our annual trips to Florida, or the occasional 6 hour hall to Old Orchard Beach in Maine. I have such fond memories of morphing into a prune due to of HOURS on end  of relentless boogyboarding. And like every other kid on the planet I always attempted to dig a massive hole, build a sand castle and collect sea shells. I was PETRIFIED of the seaweed and starfish (but then again, I was petrified of practically everything when I was little. True story. As a baby I wouldn't touch grass or deflated balloons. Then eventually it escalated to Koosh balls, wilting flowers, door stops, jets and grates in pools, sensors on toilets or lights...the list is endless. Feel free to laugh, I'm well aware of how ridiculous it all is. I won't be offended). Nevertheless, fears aside, I loved the beach and would jiggle and giggle with excitement each time we went. And even now, as a married woman, I'm instantly attracted to it. Although my boogyboarding days are over, I still wiggle and giggle with excitement, poke and prod little creatures and don't like seaweed. I'm lucky in that over my 4 years in Liverpool I've enjoyed many days strolling barefoot along the sand admiring the crashing waves. That's one HUGE advantage to living on a massive island. A beach is always right on your doorstep. It's amazing. 
Today as I ran barefoot down the sandy hill onto Formby beach I took a massive breath of the salty sea air and smiled. Regardless of the fact it was a tad windy, the sun was shining and the air was crisp and clean. Mama Lynne loves the beach the same as I do, so we took a few minutes to soak up the relaxing goodness that comes with the sound and smell of the ocean. We decided it was a good idea to leave the men behind and went to get our toes wet in the sea water. Well, Mama Lynne did. I poked at seaweed (duh) and took oodles of pictures (duh). The truth is that my toes never even got wet because, now that I'm in my mid 20s, I've found new and more exciting things to frighten me. Forget the Koosh balls and deflated balloons people, I'm now petrified of slimy sticky DISGUSTING jelly fish. They invade the beaches of England (hence why I don't swim in the water here) and want to barf whenever I see one. In all honesty I really wish they'd all just bugger off to some remote dessert island that I'll never visit, because after all WHAT IS THEIR PURPOSE?! Anyway, my hatred for jelly fish meant that I had more time to enjoy and film the beautiful English scenery (even if it was with my phone and may be a little small. Hit 'full screen' for a better view). May you now bask in all of it's glory.
But while Lynne and I were enjoying the beauty of the Ocean, Carl and his father (aka tweedledee, and tweedledum) were desperately trying to make the 'spruce goose' take flight (this is Garry's weird name for his shitty kite that he purchased for 50p at a garage sale...it's handicapped and can't really fly. Evidence of the craptasticness of this can be found here, in the post where I talked about how Carl, Tasha and I tried to fly the bastard for a good 45 minutes and failed miserably). Either way, Garry refused to admit his 'bargain purchase' was indeed, poop, and roped his mini-me son into his I'll make this goddamn kite fly if it kills me mission. Over the course of an hour it dive bombed many, many, many  times,  but in the end they were able to get it to take flight for more than 10 seconds. Hip-hip-hooray! And as it so happens, little Miss camera happy here was able to catch some of their...uh, success...on video.
The truth is that no matter how old I am or what new and ridiculous fears I have, I'll always love the beach. It's beautiful, it's special, it's unique. And in my humble opinion, it's one of the best places in the whole wide world.

5 comments:

  1. Aww I love this post! I really am blessed that the beach is less than an hour for us. I really take it for granted sometimes. And my boys love to fly kites. We just flew on at the beach the other day. If you ever come this way my house is open for guests!

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    1. Thanks, hun! You really are blessed to live so close to the beach! That's always the way though. You take for granted what you have until it's gone. I was like that with Vermont. All throughout my teens I couldn't wait to leave. Once I moved to England I couldn't wait to get back. I really appreciate it's beauty now. If you ever left FL you'd miss it. I love that though because we all need a kick in the bum sometimes to help us see clearer! My Grandpa lives down in Homosassa. Are you anywhere near there? I'd love to visit you and your lovely family someday :) xoxo

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