24-25-26 December, 2009
Our family tends to over-celebrate most holidays, at least as far as putting events on the schedule. For example, I had two birthday parties, one for my friends on Friday and another for the family-- Gran, and my uncles and aunts and cousins-- who have much farther to travel to be with us. I recall times when I was much younger when I would have three parties, including one at school. And this is typical of us, you know-- why have one party when you can have more. And, of course, this calls for three cakes, which in turn calls for the rowing machine... but I digress.
Once all the shopping and baking is done and the tree is brought inside and trimmed there is candlelight Mass on Christmas Eve, including the singing of 'Silent Night' (the ONLY time that song occurs in the church liturgy), and then it is home again for hot cocoa and Christmas wishes and family thanksgiving prayers, and then Daddy reads 'A Visit From St Nicholas' from the the little book we have had since we were little, turning it round to show all the pictures as though he were a kindergarten teacher, and more often than not making fun of the verses and illustrations that Jessy and I, at least, have seen and heard over a dozen times before. Then the little ones are tucked in and everyone has kisses good-night and Jessy and I promise to not wake up too soon in the morning in order to allow Daddy and Mother a bit more rest than they've got these last few days.
Then Daddy does his magic-- and it's always magic, for always there is more than any one of us has expected, and I don't mean just a quantity of gifts, for since Lisa was old enough to understand the material aspect of Christmas Mother has been adamant that we won't 'buy into it'-- we really do not receive many gifts at all and our parents believe quality is better than quantity, so what we receive, and in turn give to each other, is what we all really want, and not just some stuff to outdo the neighbours, you know. Daddy has developed a certain knack for 'doing Christmas' over the years-- well, it perhaps started with our old house in Delaware with one electrical outlet under each window all on the same circuit, so the electric candles in the windows could be activated all at the same time (and still are, there as here, for the house in Delaware has always been decorated like a showpiece for Christmas). He once made a device in the attic there to simulate a patter of reindeer hoofs on the roof, but he found out that it was a little too subtle and that Jessy and I never heard it. In the past he has created mysterious footprints in the snow or rearranged things round certain rooms and left hints that someone benevolent but not of our family has been here. We always set out cookies and milk for Santa and they are always mostly gone, usually exchanged for a handwritten thank-you note that is apparently NOT in Daddy's handwriting. The year Mommy died I sent a letter to Santa asking him to bring her something for Christmas up in heaven and I received in my stocking a very pretty letter in return, in which Santa said he was sorry for our family's loss, that no amount of extra gifts could ever make up for it, and that sometimes these sad things happen even to very good children like me and the best we can all do is continue to have faith in God and to remember that He loves us, especially when we are so afflicted, and so on. I still have the letter, of course. (It will probably go on display at the house in Delaware some day.) The important thing is that the letter from Santa was NOT done on Daddy's computer. It was done in red ink-- and we did not have a colour printer at that time. It used a font Daddy never uses. And the envelope and signature are NOT in Daddy's handwriting (not Mother's either, as she was still our nanny then). I was nine then, almost to the age when you begin to doubt Santa, and the letter only reinforced Santa's existence to me for another couple of years.
(Jessy says I will grow up and marry Santa Claus and become Mrs Claus. I would be perfectly fine with that-- I would get to help make Christmas wonderful for children round the world, I would be working in charity, I would be able to bake cookies, and it would be one of those unselfish occupations that I seem to be drawn to. There are only two things I would need to change about the way Santa traditionally works. One is that I would NOT want to live at the North Pole. The other is that Santa would have to work out on the rowing machine. How someone has been able to last all those years on a high-fat diet of cookies and milk is beyond me... but it shall stop with me. Get used to it, Santa my future husband.)
In the morning JJ and Lisa will be up at about 6.00-- they are never up so early at any other morning of the year. Jessy and I are responsible for keeping them upstairs and in our end of the house till 7.00-- that's the limit Mommy set long ago and which we still keep as tradition. Then making sure everyone is in warm pyjamas or robes and slippers and socks, for the down-stairs of this house is never toasty-warm at that hour, we march down to our parents' room and knock on the door. This year JJ flew down the stairs ahead of us all. The tradition is that we empty stockings first-- there they all are, six in a row, hanging from the fireplace mantel in the small back parlour. They are all hand-knitted in wool yarn and decorated with bells and tassels and Christmas symbols both secular and Christian. Daddy's was made by his godmother for his first Christmas (when he was four weeks old). Mine and Jessy's were made by our Gran when we were infants (I was 2 weeks old at my first Christmas and Jessy was four months). Mother's was made by Mommy for the first year our lovely young au pair (and future nanny and stepmother) was with us. Of course all these have a very special significance, especially Mother's. And then there are the ones for JJ and Lisa, which Mother made, following the patterns Mommy left to her, which were left to Mommy by our Gran. Though it's only a secular symbol for the child's aspect of Christmas the stocking is something that will never be phased out of this family-- Daddy's is as old as he is and is still lovingly preserved and used every year.
We keep Mommy's own stocking, which Gran made for her as a welcome gift for her first Christmas in this family, preserved in paper and linen at the house in Delaware, which Jessy insists she will look after for ever. Of course Mommy is with us every Christmas in spirit, and always will be.
This year we had a horrid little snowfall on Saturday which interrupted the shopping spree Jessy and I had planned but actually did last till Christmas morning, so we can at least say we have had a white Christmas. We took plenty of pictures both out the windows and of us standing in front of the French windows at the back of the parlour with the snow in background. After an hour or so spent opening gifts we had a leisurely brunch of pancakes and listened to traditional carols on CD. Mommy served an early tea and then I helped her with making a pleasant Virginia ham supper.
We are honoured and happy to have with us this year Mother's mum from Queensland, who has been installed in our guest room since she flew in on Wednesday. We have not seen her in over a year. Our uncle and aunt are down from the Poconos and visited with our other uncle and aunt, and Gran, in New Jersey before driving down here for dinner. They never stay at Terncote with us but take a place at a motel in Chincoteague (about 30 minutes away). They stayed in this part of the world through our the Boxing Day party.
For the Boxing Day party we invited just about everyone we know, especially locally, like our friends from school and their parents, to come and crash on us for part of the afternoon. This is a new tradition, suggested by Mother kind of in honour of her mum being here but also because Boxing Day is a Saturday so for once people can actually observe it and not merely return to work like the whole holiday is over, because it's not, not yet, not till Epiphany at least.
At the party Daddy forced us all to sing-- maybe I would rather have not, but this is his way of insisting that we have as much experience before an audience as possible. I mean there were people there from school and everything. Daddy played guitar for Mother to sing 'Greensleeves' and I sang 'To Sir, With Love,' because I had been working on it, and there were a few others like this though the highlight was Jessy singing 'O Holy Night' which sends shivers down your spine. It's like listening to an angel. Daddy says he gets weepy-eyed from it. I do too. This year she sang it with Lisa holding her hand and staring up at her in boundless admiration. Those two really are two of a kind.
I write this Monday morning, catching my breath-- aside from the trip yesterday I was inside this house from church Christmas Eve till leaving for Philadelphia Sunday morning, but it's all been busy so I haven't had a chance to catch up on any of it till now. I truly hope everyone has been having a blessed and happy Christmas... and that we all remember the true reason for the season.
...
Showing posts with label Chincoteague. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chincoteague. Show all posts
28 December 2009
05 September 2009
Rambles in the heat
Friday, 4 September
It has got hot again. I am lying here on the sofa down stairs at the beach house in New Jersey, hammering away at the trusty old iBook, and I have no clothes on. Jessy, Josie and I got here early this afternoon, after our Ferry ride and after checking on the house, and we were able to avoid the worst of the traffic. The guy on the local radio station said the Causeway was jammed about 11 miles. [sigh] Thank God for not having school yet; else would never have got here in time for our shift at the shop.
We put Josie in one of Jessy's outfits, the cute dark-green paisley bodice with stays and a pretty pale-grey skirt. Dottie put her to work in the verandah (the screened porch that goes round three sides of the place). She had never worked as a waitress before and made $18 in tips tonight. The place was really pumping all evening. We walked down the street in our Colonial outfits and by then it was beastly hot. Those two are up stairs... looking over their FaceBooks I am sure. Josie tends to devote a lot of time to Twitter. I don't see the point and have never done more than glance at it. I have updated my FaceBook with the best pics from our 'underwear glamour show' last weekend and that's enough for me, for now.
Yesterday we three had a delightful day, driving up to Chincoteague in the morning and spending most of the day on the beach there. We all wore swimsuits under shorts and shirts and were able to go out to supper later. All of us went in the water-- it was lovely. We lay on towels near a very nice family and ended up playing with some of the children. There were 4-year-old twin girls and two boys. We made a sandcastle and talked with the mother, who is a Christian from Maryland, a little north of the beach road. They have a vegetable farm and a stand on the road, and they have raised sheepdogs... so I told them about Stephen who has worked at the animal rescue shelter and is now going to UMES. Later some boys our age happened by and struck up a conversation. Jessy and Josie soaked up-- as you may well imagine-- and I just sat and talked with the mother next to us, till the guys had got their eyefuls of Jessy and Josie in bikinis and wandered off. Then the mother said to me, 'Am I keeping you from anything more social?'
I just laughed. 'No. Believe me. I'm fine.'
'Your sister seems to be interested,' she said.
'I'm sure she is.'
'You're not? Pretty girl like you?'
I shrugged, still kneeling in the sand, moulding the sandcastle with both hands for the boys. 'There are two of them. Let them have their fun.'
She laughed. 'All right,' she said.
Later I got up and wandered down to the water by myself. There was a whole row of people standing with ankles in the water, older and younger, and dozens of squealing happy children darting round us all. I stood with my arms folded over my tummy and watched them all or stared out at the horizon. Soon a guy came up and stood beside me. I don't think he was there just because of me-- it was just coincidence that he found that place clear enough to stand and take the shorebreak as it rolled in. He was older than me, maybe 25 or so. You know how it is-- you get the sensation people are looking at you before you actually know for sure that they are. I would think it was conceited of me to assume that, except that it's so often true.
'Hello,' he said to me, his eyes going down where any guy's would have, and then he looked me face-to-face. 'How are you doing, there?'
I shrugged and looked out at the ocean. 'I'm fine,' I said.
One of the little boys from beside our towels ran by and smiled up at me. I waved. 'That's cute,' the man said. 'I mean that he waved at you.'
'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I was just playing with him earlier.'
'Oh,' he said. He hadn't expected that. They never do, you know. Most men want to assume you are wholly unconnected to anyone else. I suppose it makes it easier for them. 'So,' he said, 'last weekend of vacation before classes start?'
I nodded. 'Something like that.'
'I'm from DC,' he told me.
I looked him over then-- clean-cut, short hair, decent shape, dull-looking khaki shorts that were too long, mild tan. Obviously a white-collar type from the city. I nodded then. 'Oh,' I said.
'And where are you from?'
I shrugged again. 'A little south of here,' I said.
'Oh.... Local, huh? I bet this is a nice place to be from.'
'I guess.' I turned then and looked back at Josie and Jessy who were flat on their backs and had not noticed this guy trying to chat me up. I wondered what he would do when he found out how old I was. Then I wondered if he suspected I were safely over 18 or if he would prefer I were not. Then I decided I didn't care to know that much about him, because this wasn't going anywhere other than a friendly chat on the beach.
The man allowed me to stand there on my own for a bit and then turned right to me and asked, 'So, what's your name?'
I shivered a little. Now he was asking for personal information. 'Um,' I said, and then glanced back at the other two. 'Excuse me, please.' And I turned to go back.
'No need to be afraid,' he said, with that patronising look they all get when they like to assume they are in control and you are being 'typically feminine' and feeling intimidated by a man who 'knows what he wants'.
I looked right at him then, still with my arms folded over my tummy. 'I'm not afraid of anything,' I said.
He smirked now at me. 'Then stay here and tell me your name.'
I nodded. 'Please excuse me now.' And I turned to go.
'No excuse for being rude,' he said after me. And I would ignore that.
After I had take a place on the blanket beside Jessy I told them both about him. Sure enough, the both sat up to look. He paid us no mind at all-- then, but later we saw him strolling the beach and he happened to look up our way at us. I saw that smirk again-- but I'm pretty sure he recognised that Jessy and Josie looked younger than I am and that probably made him realise we were all a little too young for him to be expecting tit for tat... or whatever he'd want to call it.
The first rule of being a gentleman is to never importune a lady. Never make her feel uncomfortable, never demand information or favours from her, never treat her like she owes you anything, never do anything that you believe she has to repay. Any man who can't be polite to a lady just for the sake of being polite, period, is no gentleman.
The man on the beach ought to have known I knew more about his age than he assumed about mine, and that I had already decided it was an ineligible match. Sure, I go to the beach to meet nice guys. I usually don't care if they are a little older than I am. I sort of expect it. And yes, it is sometimes flattering. But I don't care for being expected to give out information. And I always find it more charming when the lady introduces herself first. Then she has the choice of offering her hand-- a gentleman should never offer his hand to a lady first, because it's a form of requiring her to do something, in this case to take it. And when I first said 'excuse me' he should have realised he had just required something from me and said, 'I'm sorry'. But, instead, he behaved as most men do and defended his choice to be impertinent. He didn't care about my feelings or anything about me. He only cared about what he wanted-- which may have been just a friendly kind of chat on the beach with a girl in a bikini. But because he didn't care about me at all, he didn't get that.
I e-mailed one of my friends from HOH about it last night and she came back this afternoon telling me I did well. I had been afraid I was only being characteristically snobby and stuck-up, and she was like, 'What did he want? Where did he come from? Why did he chat up you? How long was he looking at you before?' And I got the impression from what she made me think about and how the so-called conversation had gone that he probably had chosen me to stop beside and speak to. That's a little creepy. And so I am glad I went back to the others and ended an already-awkward exchange.
We went back to the car without getting dressed and stopped at McDonald's for drive-through. By then those two had shimmied into their shorts at least-- I had not because I was driving. The guy in the drive-through window looked straight down at me. I didn't mind-- I am sure he sees girls in swimsuits all the time. So it was only at the Dollar General that I pulled on the shorts to get out of the car.
I am grateful for Josie because she shares our sense of self-respect and modesty. I know she likes to flirt a little-- she is, of course, a Gemini!! --but she is a very decent sort of girl and no one can fault her too much for appreciating a certain level of attention. With Jessy and me she is always a perfect lady.
Today we drove up Rt 13 in our swimsuits in the car, and when we got on the Ferry we went up to the top deck and sat out in the sun. People laughed-- but we were hardly the first people do to such a thing. Mother admitted she had done it when she was my age here too. A couple of people stared at us like we were nuts-- but really the day was perfect for it, and who could blame us? When we got to the house we had time to stroll the beach a bit before returning to dress in the Colonial outfits for the shop. Josie was actually embarrassed when Jessy and I told her we don't wear anything under the skirts. 'Really?'
We both laughed. 'Josie,' I said, 'you mean you never heard that?' I was naked and pulling on the shift then. 'Panties aren't old-fashioned, love.'
And we helped her get dressed, lacing up the bodice and the top of the shift and so on. Suddenly she was excited. And as we walked up the street to the shop people waved and hooted horns at us, as we do, and she finally leaned over and whispered, 'I feel so hot.'
'Hot?' I teased. 'I would have thought it'd been cooler than you're used to.'
But then she surprised me. 'After half a summer with you two? No, I'm very comfortable without, Janine.' And we all laughed.
Now it is very late and this laptop in my lap is making me feel feverish from its own heat. I shall go now. More later--
...
It has got hot again. I am lying here on the sofa down stairs at the beach house in New Jersey, hammering away at the trusty old iBook, and I have no clothes on. Jessy, Josie and I got here early this afternoon, after our Ferry ride and after checking on the house, and we were able to avoid the worst of the traffic. The guy on the local radio station said the Causeway was jammed about 11 miles. [sigh] Thank God for not having school yet; else would never have got here in time for our shift at the shop.
We put Josie in one of Jessy's outfits, the cute dark-green paisley bodice with stays and a pretty pale-grey skirt. Dottie put her to work in the verandah (the screened porch that goes round three sides of the place). She had never worked as a waitress before and made $18 in tips tonight. The place was really pumping all evening. We walked down the street in our Colonial outfits and by then it was beastly hot. Those two are up stairs... looking over their FaceBooks I am sure. Josie tends to devote a lot of time to Twitter. I don't see the point and have never done more than glance at it. I have updated my FaceBook with the best pics from our 'underwear glamour show' last weekend and that's enough for me, for now.
Yesterday we three had a delightful day, driving up to Chincoteague in the morning and spending most of the day on the beach there. We all wore swimsuits under shorts and shirts and were able to go out to supper later. All of us went in the water-- it was lovely. We lay on towels near a very nice family and ended up playing with some of the children. There were 4-year-old twin girls and two boys. We made a sandcastle and talked with the mother, who is a Christian from Maryland, a little north of the beach road. They have a vegetable farm and a stand on the road, and they have raised sheepdogs... so I told them about Stephen who has worked at the animal rescue shelter and is now going to UMES. Later some boys our age happened by and struck up a conversation. Jessy and Josie soaked up-- as you may well imagine-- and I just sat and talked with the mother next to us, till the guys had got their eyefuls of Jessy and Josie in bikinis and wandered off. Then the mother said to me, 'Am I keeping you from anything more social?'
I just laughed. 'No. Believe me. I'm fine.'
'Your sister seems to be interested,' she said.
'I'm sure she is.'
'You're not? Pretty girl like you?'
I shrugged, still kneeling in the sand, moulding the sandcastle with both hands for the boys. 'There are two of them. Let them have their fun.'
She laughed. 'All right,' she said.
Later I got up and wandered down to the water by myself. There was a whole row of people standing with ankles in the water, older and younger, and dozens of squealing happy children darting round us all. I stood with my arms folded over my tummy and watched them all or stared out at the horizon. Soon a guy came up and stood beside me. I don't think he was there just because of me-- it was just coincidence that he found that place clear enough to stand and take the shorebreak as it rolled in. He was older than me, maybe 25 or so. You know how it is-- you get the sensation people are looking at you before you actually know for sure that they are. I would think it was conceited of me to assume that, except that it's so often true.
'Hello,' he said to me, his eyes going down where any guy's would have, and then he looked me face-to-face. 'How are you doing, there?'
I shrugged and looked out at the ocean. 'I'm fine,' I said.
One of the little boys from beside our towels ran by and smiled up at me. I waved. 'That's cute,' the man said. 'I mean that he waved at you.'
'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I was just playing with him earlier.'
'Oh,' he said. He hadn't expected that. They never do, you know. Most men want to assume you are wholly unconnected to anyone else. I suppose it makes it easier for them. 'So,' he said, 'last weekend of vacation before classes start?'
I nodded. 'Something like that.'
'I'm from DC,' he told me.
I looked him over then-- clean-cut, short hair, decent shape, dull-looking khaki shorts that were too long, mild tan. Obviously a white-collar type from the city. I nodded then. 'Oh,' I said.
'And where are you from?'
I shrugged again. 'A little south of here,' I said.
'Oh.... Local, huh? I bet this is a nice place to be from.'
'I guess.' I turned then and looked back at Josie and Jessy who were flat on their backs and had not noticed this guy trying to chat me up. I wondered what he would do when he found out how old I was. Then I wondered if he suspected I were safely over 18 or if he would prefer I were not. Then I decided I didn't care to know that much about him, because this wasn't going anywhere other than a friendly chat on the beach.
The man allowed me to stand there on my own for a bit and then turned right to me and asked, 'So, what's your name?'
I shivered a little. Now he was asking for personal information. 'Um,' I said, and then glanced back at the other two. 'Excuse me, please.' And I turned to go back.
'No need to be afraid,' he said, with that patronising look they all get when they like to assume they are in control and you are being 'typically feminine' and feeling intimidated by a man who 'knows what he wants'.
I looked right at him then, still with my arms folded over my tummy. 'I'm not afraid of anything,' I said.
He smirked now at me. 'Then stay here and tell me your name.'
I nodded. 'Please excuse me now.' And I turned to go.
'No excuse for being rude,' he said after me. And I would ignore that.
After I had take a place on the blanket beside Jessy I told them both about him. Sure enough, the both sat up to look. He paid us no mind at all-- then, but later we saw him strolling the beach and he happened to look up our way at us. I saw that smirk again-- but I'm pretty sure he recognised that Jessy and Josie looked younger than I am and that probably made him realise we were all a little too young for him to be expecting tit for tat... or whatever he'd want to call it.
The first rule of being a gentleman is to never importune a lady. Never make her feel uncomfortable, never demand information or favours from her, never treat her like she owes you anything, never do anything that you believe she has to repay. Any man who can't be polite to a lady just for the sake of being polite, period, is no gentleman.
The man on the beach ought to have known I knew more about his age than he assumed about mine, and that I had already decided it was an ineligible match. Sure, I go to the beach to meet nice guys. I usually don't care if they are a little older than I am. I sort of expect it. And yes, it is sometimes flattering. But I don't care for being expected to give out information. And I always find it more charming when the lady introduces herself first. Then she has the choice of offering her hand-- a gentleman should never offer his hand to a lady first, because it's a form of requiring her to do something, in this case to take it. And when I first said 'excuse me' he should have realised he had just required something from me and said, 'I'm sorry'. But, instead, he behaved as most men do and defended his choice to be impertinent. He didn't care about my feelings or anything about me. He only cared about what he wanted-- which may have been just a friendly kind of chat on the beach with a girl in a bikini. But because he didn't care about me at all, he didn't get that.
I e-mailed one of my friends from HOH about it last night and she came back this afternoon telling me I did well. I had been afraid I was only being characteristically snobby and stuck-up, and she was like, 'What did he want? Where did he come from? Why did he chat up you? How long was he looking at you before?' And I got the impression from what she made me think about and how the so-called conversation had gone that he probably had chosen me to stop beside and speak to. That's a little creepy. And so I am glad I went back to the others and ended an already-awkward exchange.
We went back to the car without getting dressed and stopped at McDonald's for drive-through. By then those two had shimmied into their shorts at least-- I had not because I was driving. The guy in the drive-through window looked straight down at me. I didn't mind-- I am sure he sees girls in swimsuits all the time. So it was only at the Dollar General that I pulled on the shorts to get out of the car.
I am grateful for Josie because she shares our sense of self-respect and modesty. I know she likes to flirt a little-- she is, of course, a Gemini!! --but she is a very decent sort of girl and no one can fault her too much for appreciating a certain level of attention. With Jessy and me she is always a perfect lady.
Today we drove up Rt 13 in our swimsuits in the car, and when we got on the Ferry we went up to the top deck and sat out in the sun. People laughed-- but we were hardly the first people do to such a thing. Mother admitted she had done it when she was my age here too. A couple of people stared at us like we were nuts-- but really the day was perfect for it, and who could blame us? When we got to the house we had time to stroll the beach a bit before returning to dress in the Colonial outfits for the shop. Josie was actually embarrassed when Jessy and I told her we don't wear anything under the skirts. 'Really?'
We both laughed. 'Josie,' I said, 'you mean you never heard that?' I was naked and pulling on the shift then. 'Panties aren't old-fashioned, love.'
And we helped her get dressed, lacing up the bodice and the top of the shift and so on. Suddenly she was excited. And as we walked up the street to the shop people waved and hooted horns at us, as we do, and she finally leaned over and whispered, 'I feel so hot.'
'Hot?' I teased. 'I would have thought it'd been cooler than you're used to.'
But then she surprised me. 'After half a summer with you two? No, I'm very comfortable without, Janine.' And we all laughed.
Now it is very late and this laptop in my lap is making me feel feverish from its own heat. I shall go now. More later--
...
14 April 2009
Hail thee, festival day
Easter Day, 12th April 2009
The Lord is risen! Yay Jesus!
After a what has seemed like a pretty long fast (46 days) we all woke up this morning cheerful and making silly (but also sincere) comments like 'Jesus lives!' and so on. Daddy raved on about the end of the fast, striding round the house announcing, 'And we can have pepperoni! And steak! And hamburgers! And sausage! And cheese steaks! And hot dogs! And ground-beef casserole! And pork chops! And ham! And gravy! And chicken ala king! And creamed chipped beef on toast! And veal parmigiana! And steak!' --whilst we all giggled hysterically, even Mother and especially JJ.
'You said "steak" again, Daddy!' little Lisa laughed.
'Well we can have it again!'
This is how he is, you know.
We had not got cards for Daddy and Mother and so whilst Lisa and JJ were devouring about half their candy (not really) we coloured cards with crayons on folded paper, making cute childish pictures, you know. Jessy made one for Daddy that showed a cross fallen over and an emaciated-looking Jesus with his unkempt beard waving both arms in the air and cheering like a football fan. All round it she wrote 'Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!' like a wild chant. At this we laughed till had tears in our eyes. That's not such an inappropriate response on this day.
Daddy loved that card and said he would frame it.
I wore a new dress with three-quarter sleeves and an almost-closed neck-- it's a floral pattern of white on a deep shade of peach-pink. It's not quite a Barbie pink- it's a little warmer. Nevertheless little Lisa insisted it was a Barbie colour--
Lisa: 'That looks like Barbie pink.'
Me: 'It's not. Not exactly.'
Five minutes later, while I am still getting dressed--
Lisa: 'Isn't that the Barbie pink?'
Me: 'No, not quite the same pink.'
A few minutes later, while I was putting on makeup--
Lisa: 'That looks like a Barbie dress!'
Me: 'It's not the same pink!
Lisa: (giggles)
In the car on the way to church--
Lisa: 'Janine looks like Barbie!'
Me: 'It's NOT the same pink!'
It really isn't.
Church filled up but we got a whole pew (we need it) and I was on the end with Lisa. Fully half the people in church were not regulars. I don't know if it's too judgemental to say, but I do notice that kind of thing. You can tell the E & C (Easter & Christmas) people because they're more concerned with what they're all wearing and whom they're sitting with than what the liturgy is doing. They miss cues, rarely remember to bow or cross themselves, and sit when we're supposed to kneel-- they're always eager to sit. This is awkward when they're in front of you and you have to kneel against the back of their seat, you know. I whispered something to Jessy once and she leaned over and said, 'At least they're here now.' I suppose she is right. Forgive me, E & C people. I'll see you for Christmas.
Needless to say, someone had to go to the potty before Communion. Fortunately we still had the Prayers of the People to go and I saw my chance. 'Come on,' I whispered to her, and grabbed her hand. Lisa nodded and hurried a little head, nearly dragging me forward in the aisle and over towards the back gallery. I tugged her back to genuflect as we turned at the crossing. The E & C people would need the example, you know. Coming back there were two boys about my age a few pews ahead of us. Both of them stared at me. I met their eyes once and sort of blushed. 'She is not!' one of them whispered, obviously. I didn't know what that meant, but that's what they said about me.
We have a routine for stepping out the pew for Communion. Jessy and I step out first, back up and wait for Daddy, then Daddy steps out, usually with JJ's hand, and Mother steps out with Lisa and they go ahead first. Then Daddy used to want us to go ahead of him, but Jessy and I began sort of insisting that he stay with Mother and we go after them. It's tradition-- the mother always goes first and the parents always stay together. Then, following etiquette, I should follow and then Jessy and the littler ones, though JJ usually needs guidance to go anywhere and Lisa holds hands with either Jessy or me anyway. It can become a mess if the usher has let too many people out into the aisle at once, but they all know us by now and expect it.
Coming back the two E & C boys had returned to their pew first and were looking at me again. Really I think they were just surprised to see girls at church-- so many guys our age are surprised that girls actually attend regularly. They seem to assume that because they don't, the girls who might interest them don't either. (It's another case of perception vs reality.) The truth is that we have always gone regularly-- okay, we miss a few weeks a year. That's a lot different from coming only a few weeks a year. Maybe that's judgemental. But I believe faith is the single most important thing to have in common with someone-- what you believe, how you feel about it, how you apply it your life, including how often you go to church and why you do, and so on. It's the first thing I care about when I meet someone I might possibly date seriously. Anything else is doomed to stay casual, you know.
After the service there was the long reception line saying hello to our rector and his wife, and people were given flowers and greeting cards and there were all sorts of delays. Naturally Daddy had more than a few words with our rector. Jessy and I stepped outside, with Lisa in tow, all of us closing our nice white cotton sweaters against the crisp cool air and the bracing breeze. The two E & C boys, with no sport coats and their ties fluttering, lingered nearby, urgently whispering to each other about, I think, Sarah and her sister ahead of us. They're cuter than we are and a little younger. The two boys were probably better ages for them. I don't think they were more than about 16 and 15 and already they assumed themselves to be the most desirable male creatures in sight.
We said hello to Sarah, and her sister, and stepped aside to allow other people out of the building. A little boy, looking cute in his blue suit and red tie, came up to us and said politely, 'You girls are so pretty.'
I smiled and bent down a little to him. 'That is such a sweet thing to say!' I said. He blushed a little. I put out my hand and we shook and said 'Happy Easter' to each other. Then he went off, blushing.
The two E & C boys watched the whole thing. Jessy leaned in and said to me, 'I think you've gained another admirer.'
I made a wry face. 'I think you've gained two,' I teased, indicating the two guys by pressing on her side with my finger. Jessy squirmed, inadvertently. The two boys soaked that up like syrup. Jessy blushed.
Sarah suggested we all ride down to Lynnhaven later in the week and see the Hannah Montana movie. I did not demur and in fact we all stood and discussed the previews and reported plot of the store, speaking of Miley Cyrus as though we knew her personally and not caring what the two teenaged boys would have thought of us for discussing a movie aimed at 11-year-olds. Still they stood over there gazing at us. But they never did make any motion to say hullo or even to greet us as Christians should with 'The Lord is risen' or anything similar. Soon they went off-- with their mother, it looked like.
When we got back to the house I got out of the good dress, saving it for later when Gran got here. Gran must have left straight after church with our uncle in southern New Jersey because it was 2.00 when we got a shaky phone call from her. Going past the 175 intersection for Chincoteague-- like 15 miles from our house-- someone made an illegal left onto 13 and pulled out in front of her, scraping up the side of her car that the front left wing panel was in on the tyre. Daddy calmed her down on the phone and went straight out in his car to go get her. The police had a lift truck there but he made sure to ring his car-restoring partner in Delaware and insisted he would pay only for a short move off the highway. This is how he is. He and Gran, with Gran's luggage (and the pie she made for us), arrived at just before 4.00. And all will be well. Jessy and I are scheduled to see a show in Philadelphia this week and Gran was only going to drive up on our about the same day anyway. So Roger will drive all of us home. And Daddy's friend will repair Gran's car and Daddy can drive it up to her by week's end.
So there is an easy solution, and none of this upset our lovely Easter dinner at Terncote. I helped Mother with the ham and mashed the potatoes and tossed the salad, and she and I took off our aprons and seated ourselves and Daddy said Grace. 'The Lord is good,' he said. Over dinner he told us of hearing from an old high-school friend who is pastor of a Protestant church up in New Jersey whose email made the point that we have the ONLY world religion that is represented to God's people by God Himself-- in the person of Jesus Christ. All others have only prophets, for for US God came down to the world, lived and suffered and died as a man, and saved us as only God Himself can do.
How often we hear that expression, 'Jesus died for the sins of the whole world.' But what that means is that He took upon us the penalty for our own sins. What he endured, suffering in agony on the cross, was what WE deserved. WE deserved to be hung there and bled or suffocated to death, not Him. WE are the ones with all the sins we should be punished and condemned for. And that's a hard thing for most people to accept. But as my lovely stepmother once explained to me, we always have at least one or two things to confess that we're not happy admitting. She says that when you confess your sins, even in secret to only God, you should confess till it hurts. 'If you're not weeping, you haven't confessed enough,' she says. I never have any trouble weeping. I am proud, arrogant, conceited, judgemental, selfish, thoughtless, rude, and stingy. And so when I go to the Altar I always remember what my stepmother taught me, what her mother taught her, and I recite to myself, 'Lord, regard not my sins, nor my good deeds, for by neither am I to be counted worthy.' I am not worthy-- I deserve none of this-- I deserve to be crucified. And so in all my confessing I am grateful to God who accepts me in my sin and forgives me, because He does for me what I do not deserve. Without Him I am nothing.
...
The Lord is risen! Yay Jesus!
After a what has seemed like a pretty long fast (46 days) we all woke up this morning cheerful and making silly (but also sincere) comments like 'Jesus lives!' and so on. Daddy raved on about the end of the fast, striding round the house announcing, 'And we can have pepperoni! And steak! And hamburgers! And sausage! And cheese steaks! And hot dogs! And ground-beef casserole! And pork chops! And ham! And gravy! And chicken ala king! And creamed chipped beef on toast! And veal parmigiana! And steak!' --whilst we all giggled hysterically, even Mother and especially JJ.
'You said "steak" again, Daddy!' little Lisa laughed.
'Well we can have it again!'
This is how he is, you know.
We had not got cards for Daddy and Mother and so whilst Lisa and JJ were devouring about half their candy (not really) we coloured cards with crayons on folded paper, making cute childish pictures, you know. Jessy made one for Daddy that showed a cross fallen over and an emaciated-looking Jesus with his unkempt beard waving both arms in the air and cheering like a football fan. All round it she wrote 'Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!' like a wild chant. At this we laughed till had tears in our eyes. That's not such an inappropriate response on this day.
Daddy loved that card and said he would frame it.
I wore a new dress with three-quarter sleeves and an almost-closed neck-- it's a floral pattern of white on a deep shade of peach-pink. It's not quite a Barbie pink- it's a little warmer. Nevertheless little Lisa insisted it was a Barbie colour--
Lisa: 'That looks like Barbie pink.'
Me: 'It's not. Not exactly.'
Five minutes later, while I am still getting dressed--
Lisa: 'Isn't that the Barbie pink?'
Me: 'No, not quite the same pink.'
A few minutes later, while I was putting on makeup--
Lisa: 'That looks like a Barbie dress!'
Me: 'It's not the same pink!
Lisa: (giggles)
In the car on the way to church--
Lisa: 'Janine looks like Barbie!'
Me: 'It's NOT the same pink!'
It really isn't.
Church filled up but we got a whole pew (we need it) and I was on the end with Lisa. Fully half the people in church were not regulars. I don't know if it's too judgemental to say, but I do notice that kind of thing. You can tell the E & C (Easter & Christmas) people because they're more concerned with what they're all wearing and whom they're sitting with than what the liturgy is doing. They miss cues, rarely remember to bow or cross themselves, and sit when we're supposed to kneel-- they're always eager to sit. This is awkward when they're in front of you and you have to kneel against the back of their seat, you know. I whispered something to Jessy once and she leaned over and said, 'At least they're here now.' I suppose she is right. Forgive me, E & C people. I'll see you for Christmas.
Needless to say, someone had to go to the potty before Communion. Fortunately we still had the Prayers of the People to go and I saw my chance. 'Come on,' I whispered to her, and grabbed her hand. Lisa nodded and hurried a little head, nearly dragging me forward in the aisle and over towards the back gallery. I tugged her back to genuflect as we turned at the crossing. The E & C people would need the example, you know. Coming back there were two boys about my age a few pews ahead of us. Both of them stared at me. I met their eyes once and sort of blushed. 'She is not!' one of them whispered, obviously. I didn't know what that meant, but that's what they said about me.
We have a routine for stepping out the pew for Communion. Jessy and I step out first, back up and wait for Daddy, then Daddy steps out, usually with JJ's hand, and Mother steps out with Lisa and they go ahead first. Then Daddy used to want us to go ahead of him, but Jessy and I began sort of insisting that he stay with Mother and we go after them. It's tradition-- the mother always goes first and the parents always stay together. Then, following etiquette, I should follow and then Jessy and the littler ones, though JJ usually needs guidance to go anywhere and Lisa holds hands with either Jessy or me anyway. It can become a mess if the usher has let too many people out into the aisle at once, but they all know us by now and expect it.
Coming back the two E & C boys had returned to their pew first and were looking at me again. Really I think they were just surprised to see girls at church-- so many guys our age are surprised that girls actually attend regularly. They seem to assume that because they don't, the girls who might interest them don't either. (It's another case of perception vs reality.) The truth is that we have always gone regularly-- okay, we miss a few weeks a year. That's a lot different from coming only a few weeks a year. Maybe that's judgemental. But I believe faith is the single most important thing to have in common with someone-- what you believe, how you feel about it, how you apply it your life, including how often you go to church and why you do, and so on. It's the first thing I care about when I meet someone I might possibly date seriously. Anything else is doomed to stay casual, you know.
After the service there was the long reception line saying hello to our rector and his wife, and people were given flowers and greeting cards and there were all sorts of delays. Naturally Daddy had more than a few words with our rector. Jessy and I stepped outside, with Lisa in tow, all of us closing our nice white cotton sweaters against the crisp cool air and the bracing breeze. The two E & C boys, with no sport coats and their ties fluttering, lingered nearby, urgently whispering to each other about, I think, Sarah and her sister ahead of us. They're cuter than we are and a little younger. The two boys were probably better ages for them. I don't think they were more than about 16 and 15 and already they assumed themselves to be the most desirable male creatures in sight.
We said hello to Sarah, and her sister, and stepped aside to allow other people out of the building. A little boy, looking cute in his blue suit and red tie, came up to us and said politely, 'You girls are so pretty.'
I smiled and bent down a little to him. 'That is such a sweet thing to say!' I said. He blushed a little. I put out my hand and we shook and said 'Happy Easter' to each other. Then he went off, blushing.
The two E & C boys watched the whole thing. Jessy leaned in and said to me, 'I think you've gained another admirer.'
I made a wry face. 'I think you've gained two,' I teased, indicating the two guys by pressing on her side with my finger. Jessy squirmed, inadvertently. The two boys soaked that up like syrup. Jessy blushed.
Sarah suggested we all ride down to Lynnhaven later in the week and see the Hannah Montana movie. I did not demur and in fact we all stood and discussed the previews and reported plot of the store, speaking of Miley Cyrus as though we knew her personally and not caring what the two teenaged boys would have thought of us for discussing a movie aimed at 11-year-olds. Still they stood over there gazing at us. But they never did make any motion to say hullo or even to greet us as Christians should with 'The Lord is risen' or anything similar. Soon they went off-- with their mother, it looked like.
When we got back to the house I got out of the good dress, saving it for later when Gran got here. Gran must have left straight after church with our uncle in southern New Jersey because it was 2.00 when we got a shaky phone call from her. Going past the 175 intersection for Chincoteague-- like 15 miles from our house-- someone made an illegal left onto 13 and pulled out in front of her, scraping up the side of her car that the front left wing panel was in on the tyre. Daddy calmed her down on the phone and went straight out in his car to go get her. The police had a lift truck there but he made sure to ring his car-restoring partner in Delaware and insisted he would pay only for a short move off the highway. This is how he is. He and Gran, with Gran's luggage (and the pie she made for us), arrived at just before 4.00. And all will be well. Jessy and I are scheduled to see a show in Philadelphia this week and Gran was only going to drive up on our about the same day anyway. So Roger will drive all of us home. And Daddy's friend will repair Gran's car and Daddy can drive it up to her by week's end.
So there is an easy solution, and none of this upset our lovely Easter dinner at Terncote. I helped Mother with the ham and mashed the potatoes and tossed the salad, and she and I took off our aprons and seated ourselves and Daddy said Grace. 'The Lord is good,' he said. Over dinner he told us of hearing from an old high-school friend who is pastor of a Protestant church up in New Jersey whose email made the point that we have the ONLY world religion that is represented to God's people by God Himself-- in the person of Jesus Christ. All others have only prophets, for for US God came down to the world, lived and suffered and died as a man, and saved us as only God Himself can do.
How often we hear that expression, 'Jesus died for the sins of the whole world.' But what that means is that He took upon us the penalty for our own sins. What he endured, suffering in agony on the cross, was what WE deserved. WE deserved to be hung there and bled or suffocated to death, not Him. WE are the ones with all the sins we should be punished and condemned for. And that's a hard thing for most people to accept. But as my lovely stepmother once explained to me, we always have at least one or two things to confess that we're not happy admitting. She says that when you confess your sins, even in secret to only God, you should confess till it hurts. 'If you're not weeping, you haven't confessed enough,' she says. I never have any trouble weeping. I am proud, arrogant, conceited, judgemental, selfish, thoughtless, rude, and stingy. And so when I go to the Altar I always remember what my stepmother taught me, what her mother taught her, and I recite to myself, 'Lord, regard not my sins, nor my good deeds, for by neither am I to be counted worthy.' I am not worthy-- I deserve none of this-- I deserve to be crucified. And so in all my confessing I am grateful to God who accepts me in my sin and forgives me, because He does for me what I do not deserve. Without Him I am nothing.
...
12 February 2009
We see into the life of things
Wednesday 11 February 2009
As predicted today was like 65 degrees. This is really frustrating when you have school on a day like this. By the end of fourth period I was devising all these diabolical plans to skip the rest of the school day and go to the beach. Who knows? --there might have been no one at Chincoteague and I might have got to indulge there. Well-- that was not going to happen for three reasons. The first reason is that I had school, and that's still important. The second reason is that nudity is illegal on Virginia public grounds, including beaches. The third reason is that it's this week.
At lunch I talked Jessy into riding up to Chincoteague anyway. Roger met us at the kerb and we got a lot of our homework done on the 30-minute trip. The beach was almost empty-- we saw maybe half a dozen people there, not including in the parking area. We actually took off our shoes and tights and ran down to the water's edge. Of course the water was icy, but that's not why we had to do it. This is February, and we were barefoot on the beach. How much could that EVER be bad?
We had a walk together, up towards the other parking area and then back down to the car. Both of us reached the conclusion that there must be something in heredity, for Daddy has always preferred a walk on the beach too, to clear his head and to gain some new outlook on life. It was from him that I learned the Wordsworth poem commonly known as 'Tintern Abbey' that says the intimate experience of being in a certain place that is special to you will give you a kind of insight on greater things in the greater world:
'While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.'
Wordsworth says he gets this 'power' from the sights and sensations of the beautiful countryside above the Wye river as he accompanies his sister on her first visit there. I have been to where the poet sat when he wrote this and have some idea of how strong the impression must have been on him. My daddy gets the same kind of refreshment from a walk on the beach. I have known him, when we lived at the house at Lewes, and even before, at Long Beach Island, to go out to the beach and merely stand there, or maybe walk a bit, with no destination, as though, like Wordsworth, he is being rejuvenated just by being there. 'Rejuvenated' is a good word-- meaning to have again the spirit of youth. I think that's what Daddy gets-- a kind of spiritual return to his happy younger years, before Christine died, before the band broke up, before he had to worry about family and money and real estate. To him the beach is like a childhood playground he gets to visit all over again.
I have seen my daddy sit on the beach and stare out at the water, completely ignoring any of the people around him (yes even cute girls in bikinis). He does not go to the beach to see the people, but to see the water. And I think I know what that is like. Having grown up no farther than 50 metres from the ocean shore all my life, I know that there is something deeply spiritual, deeply powerful, about the sky and sea and sand together. I can sit there and stare out at the horizon, imagining myself out there, but we know that's impossible-- there really is no horizon. If you were to go there, there would still be another horizon, drawing you farther and farther. Chasing it is in vain. And yet something in me makes me wish I could sail off out there and chase it forever. And that something is what compels me to come to the beach to clear my mind and to look to the future.
Jessy listened to me talking like this and finally said, 'I wish we could go to Surf City this weekend.'
I stopped walking and just looked at her. 'Do you really want to?'
She did not look at me, only down at her feet, and resumed walking. 'If we could.'
I nodded at once. 'I'll ask Daddy when we get home.'
We looked at each other with wide eyes and smiled. After that we walked more quickly back to the car.
Daddy was actually out on some errands, so when we got home I asked our stepmother. 'I think he will worry about you,' she said. 'I will worry about you. Though after this weather today I can't blame you for wanting to be there.' We both looked out the window and commented on it, and then Mother said, 'Ask him when he comes home and see. As long as you phone when you get there.....'
'Yes,' I assured her. So when Daddy got home I asked him. 'Just to see it,' I said. 'Just to walk on the beach. And we can check on anything you want us to....'
He thought for a long moment and then said, 'Well I suppose Roger can make it up there this weekend.'
'No, Daddy,' I said. 'I want to drive myself. Jessy and I want it to just be her and me.'
He looked at me for a long moment. 'Are you sure?'
I nodded, definitely. 'If you think it's all right.'
My daddy thought for a long moment. His next comment was about the ride, the route, taking the Ferry, me driving on my own up the Parkway and having to recognise the right exit.... Then he had a list of things for us to check on, the house, the dinghy under the house, the ice-cream parlour, our uncle's boat laid up at the yacht club.... Then he suggested that we would have to bring warmer winter clothes, that it was by no means certain it would be this warm this weekend. By this time I already knew we were permitted to go.
Tonight after dinner Jessy came in to my room, dressed in socks, a plain pale-blue man's shirt like the one I use for a cover-up, and, I'm pretty sure, nothing else. I had a fire going with almost the last of the hickory logs and was quite cosy myself. 'Do you still have your warm gown?'
I looked up at her. 'My green one?'
She nodded. She had meant my Colonial-era costume which I've had since before we went to England. Mommy used to love 1700s reenactments and got the whole family interested in that time period. In fact after our new stepmother took us out of school, following the Jesus essay fiasco, she and the two of us used to dress like that all the time, holding our lessons and everything else in our very traditional, all-natural-fibre gowns.
'Yes,' I told her. 'Is that what you're thinking for this weekend?'
She smiled at me. 'Apparently it's what you're thinking too,' she said.
I smiled back. 'So... apparently it's what we're doing.'
A whole weekend by ourselves in our Colonial clothes-- unless of course the weather favours sunbathing on the deck. I cannot wait.
...
As predicted today was like 65 degrees. This is really frustrating when you have school on a day like this. By the end of fourth period I was devising all these diabolical plans to skip the rest of the school day and go to the beach. Who knows? --there might have been no one at Chincoteague and I might have got to indulge there. Well-- that was not going to happen for three reasons. The first reason is that I had school, and that's still important. The second reason is that nudity is illegal on Virginia public grounds, including beaches. The third reason is that it's this week.
At lunch I talked Jessy into riding up to Chincoteague anyway. Roger met us at the kerb and we got a lot of our homework done on the 30-minute trip. The beach was almost empty-- we saw maybe half a dozen people there, not including in the parking area. We actually took off our shoes and tights and ran down to the water's edge. Of course the water was icy, but that's not why we had to do it. This is February, and we were barefoot on the beach. How much could that EVER be bad?
We had a walk together, up towards the other parking area and then back down to the car. Both of us reached the conclusion that there must be something in heredity, for Daddy has always preferred a walk on the beach too, to clear his head and to gain some new outlook on life. It was from him that I learned the Wordsworth poem commonly known as 'Tintern Abbey' that says the intimate experience of being in a certain place that is special to you will give you a kind of insight on greater things in the greater world:
'While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.'
Wordsworth says he gets this 'power' from the sights and sensations of the beautiful countryside above the Wye river as he accompanies his sister on her first visit there. I have been to where the poet sat when he wrote this and have some idea of how strong the impression must have been on him. My daddy gets the same kind of refreshment from a walk on the beach. I have known him, when we lived at the house at Lewes, and even before, at Long Beach Island, to go out to the beach and merely stand there, or maybe walk a bit, with no destination, as though, like Wordsworth, he is being rejuvenated just by being there. 'Rejuvenated' is a good word-- meaning to have again the spirit of youth. I think that's what Daddy gets-- a kind of spiritual return to his happy younger years, before Christine died, before the band broke up, before he had to worry about family and money and real estate. To him the beach is like a childhood playground he gets to visit all over again.
I have seen my daddy sit on the beach and stare out at the water, completely ignoring any of the people around him (yes even cute girls in bikinis). He does not go to the beach to see the people, but to see the water. And I think I know what that is like. Having grown up no farther than 50 metres from the ocean shore all my life, I know that there is something deeply spiritual, deeply powerful, about the sky and sea and sand together. I can sit there and stare out at the horizon, imagining myself out there, but we know that's impossible-- there really is no horizon. If you were to go there, there would still be another horizon, drawing you farther and farther. Chasing it is in vain. And yet something in me makes me wish I could sail off out there and chase it forever. And that something is what compels me to come to the beach to clear my mind and to look to the future.
Jessy listened to me talking like this and finally said, 'I wish we could go to Surf City this weekend.'
I stopped walking and just looked at her. 'Do you really want to?'
She did not look at me, only down at her feet, and resumed walking. 'If we could.'
I nodded at once. 'I'll ask Daddy when we get home.'
We looked at each other with wide eyes and smiled. After that we walked more quickly back to the car.
Daddy was actually out on some errands, so when we got home I asked our stepmother. 'I think he will worry about you,' she said. 'I will worry about you. Though after this weather today I can't blame you for wanting to be there.' We both looked out the window and commented on it, and then Mother said, 'Ask him when he comes home and see. As long as you phone when you get there.....'
'Yes,' I assured her. So when Daddy got home I asked him. 'Just to see it,' I said. 'Just to walk on the beach. And we can check on anything you want us to....'
He thought for a long moment and then said, 'Well I suppose Roger can make it up there this weekend.'
'No, Daddy,' I said. 'I want to drive myself. Jessy and I want it to just be her and me.'
He looked at me for a long moment. 'Are you sure?'
I nodded, definitely. 'If you think it's all right.'
My daddy thought for a long moment. His next comment was about the ride, the route, taking the Ferry, me driving on my own up the Parkway and having to recognise the right exit.... Then he had a list of things for us to check on, the house, the dinghy under the house, the ice-cream parlour, our uncle's boat laid up at the yacht club.... Then he suggested that we would have to bring warmer winter clothes, that it was by no means certain it would be this warm this weekend. By this time I already knew we were permitted to go.
Tonight after dinner Jessy came in to my room, dressed in socks, a plain pale-blue man's shirt like the one I use for a cover-up, and, I'm pretty sure, nothing else. I had a fire going with almost the last of the hickory logs and was quite cosy myself. 'Do you still have your warm gown?'
I looked up at her. 'My green one?'
She nodded. She had meant my Colonial-era costume which I've had since before we went to England. Mommy used to love 1700s reenactments and got the whole family interested in that time period. In fact after our new stepmother took us out of school, following the Jesus essay fiasco, she and the two of us used to dress like that all the time, holding our lessons and everything else in our very traditional, all-natural-fibre gowns.
'Yes,' I told her. 'Is that what you're thinking for this weekend?'
She smiled at me. 'Apparently it's what you're thinking too,' she said.
I smiled back. 'So... apparently it's what we're doing.'
A whole weekend by ourselves in our Colonial clothes-- unless of course the weather favours sunbathing on the deck. I cannot wait.
...
12 October 2008
Princess Janine goes on a date
Friday 10 October 2008
Brett is a guy in my History class who sits almost behind me, kind of over one row, but we never talk in class because the teacher hates it. So the only time he has ever said anything to me is in the hallways, or for a few minutes before class starts, which is not long because I come all the way from German and we're all usually rushing to get out of her class and get on to where we have to be next.
Anyway we had to work in groups the other day in History and Brett ended up in the same group as me and so we were able to talk more directly, although only about the Spanish-American War, and met eyes. He has very pretty eyes for a guy, bright blue with long lashes like Zac Ephron's (okay, I should not say that). And he wears his hair a little longer than most guys I have seen here, which is also good. And he is taller than me, of course, but not too tall. And-- as I happen to get from overhearing him, actually, he is older than me, by about a month. Which is also good.
On Thursday afternoon he caught up with me after school, which is not that hard to do as I usually hang around the front hall gabbing with other people and Roger knows to not come till the buses have already gone. I was quite stunned to realise he was actually asking me out... for a DATE.
'I know it's not much, just a movie, but it's something to do. So, if I can pick you up around seven....'
'That sounds nice,' I said then. --playing the modest little twit, you know.
We settled the issue of how he could find my house and we separated for last period. In the car on the way home I told Jessy everything. She was quietly impressed with my good fortune and offered to help do my hair. We put it up, mostly, and pulled down two strands on the sides like we usually do with it, but I made a face in the mirror at myself, so she pulled it off to one side and just let the other side have the loose strand which looked more interesting. It was a casual set which meant I could pull on my charcoal-grey sweatshirt over my head. I wore that over a black tanktop with my black twill skirt and navy tights and black pumps with 2" heels-- 5'7"... not too tall for Brett. Also I brought my glasses for the movie in my little black purse. Fortunately he's already seen me wearing them.
Brett arrived at about three minutes before seven and Mother made me open the door. Then there was the awkward moment when everyone had to be introduced, including Lisa who stared up at this nice-looking young man in this house like he was one of the Jonas Brothers. Daddy was up stairs giving J.J. his bath but Jessy hurried up to take over for him for, as Mother said, it is the daddy's prerogative to approve of the daughter's date. I blushed. But Daddy is very easy-going and Brett is very sensible and they talked for a few moments and seemed to accept each other.
Brett seated me in the car as a gentleman should for a lady. I felt very flattered and even unworthy. I have not been on many first dates at all-- I saw Henry somewhat steadily over my second and last year at HOH and before that I only really hung out with people as part of a crowd. I think maybe three times boys came to the house in Norwich to see me... or sometimes Jessy. Before that we were home-schooled in Lewes and met almost no guys at all. The issue of me going off with someone not related to me whom my parents scarcely know has been pretty much nonexistent till now.
Brett is a good driver and his 200SX is kind of old but well-kept. I put on my seatbelt and kept my knees together and watched him shift gears. Even watching Daddy or Mother do it, that is always something that impresses me.
At the theater he stayed a little behind me as a gentleman is supposed to do and stayed standing till I had sat in the row first. As a movie, 'Beverly Hills Chihuahua' has the ability to make you question your own existence-- I don't mean it's existential. I mean it's so bad you want to just kill yourself. But being intelligent we both made fun of it and had a pretty good time laughing at either the movie's banality or what we said about it. The place was about two-thirds full-- Chincoteague is never busy at this time of year-- with most of the people our age and younger, with the odd parent into the bargain.
Afterwards we drove up to McDonald's and had hot-fudge ice-cream sundaes. I made a stupid comment about 'watching my figure', the kind of thing any girl says just to alleviate the awkwardness of going out on a lovely date with a really nice guy and then wanting to pig out on sugar-covered milk fat, but it led him to comment on my comment which I really did not need at all. 'At least it's worth watching,' he said. And I blushed (like a stupid twit). How could he watch anything? --I was in a floppy sweatshirt.
When we got home we sat in the car in front of the house and talked-- honestly, that was all, about school and Jessy and me going to HOH and his family's business (feed and supplies-- they sell to Perdue-- enough said). Just after 11.00 we walked up to the door. I made sure there were no curious eyes peeking out from between the curtains anywhere before I leaned in and accepted his kiss-- on the cheek, because that is where he was going with it on his own. That flattered me. A guy is usually willing to kiss you anywhere really, but there's always the suggestion that it's all in code-- if it's on the cheek, does that mean he's showing respect at the beginning of something that might develop, or is it the end of something and you shouldn't get your hopes up, or are you just a sister to him; and if it's on the neck that means something totally different, but if it's on the lips is he just being romantic or taking advantage of a situation that he knows will never repeat itself; and at what point is it all just a test of you for him to see if you pass his expectations? And could a girl develop an ulcer from all this?
Dear Brett, if you are reading.... Well first I hope you're not! --because there's so much in here that will embarrass me! But tender me gently, good cavalier-- you deserve only the best in a lady and I am all too aware of the challenge I have to accept.
And, Brett's friends, if you read this, notice I pass no judgements on him-- I would never 'kiss and tell', but to say that our much-admired gentleman is every bit what we want to believe he is, and all the more to be admired.
And, dear blog-readers, your Princess Janine may be too open and too trusting, but, as you already know too well, she is ever a lady (even if she does want a date to the Homecoming dance... hint, hint, HINT).
...
Brett is a guy in my History class who sits almost behind me, kind of over one row, but we never talk in class because the teacher hates it. So the only time he has ever said anything to me is in the hallways, or for a few minutes before class starts, which is not long because I come all the way from German and we're all usually rushing to get out of her class and get on to where we have to be next.
Anyway we had to work in groups the other day in History and Brett ended up in the same group as me and so we were able to talk more directly, although only about the Spanish-American War, and met eyes. He has very pretty eyes for a guy, bright blue with long lashes like Zac Ephron's (okay, I should not say that). And he wears his hair a little longer than most guys I have seen here, which is also good. And he is taller than me, of course, but not too tall. And-- as I happen to get from overhearing him, actually, he is older than me, by about a month. Which is also good.
On Thursday afternoon he caught up with me after school, which is not that hard to do as I usually hang around the front hall gabbing with other people and Roger knows to not come till the buses have already gone. I was quite stunned to realise he was actually asking me out... for a DATE.
'I know it's not much, just a movie, but it's something to do. So, if I can pick you up around seven....'
'That sounds nice,' I said then. --playing the modest little twit, you know.
We settled the issue of how he could find my house and we separated for last period. In the car on the way home I told Jessy everything. She was quietly impressed with my good fortune and offered to help do my hair. We put it up, mostly, and pulled down two strands on the sides like we usually do with it, but I made a face in the mirror at myself, so she pulled it off to one side and just let the other side have the loose strand which looked more interesting. It was a casual set which meant I could pull on my charcoal-grey sweatshirt over my head. I wore that over a black tanktop with my black twill skirt and navy tights and black pumps with 2" heels-- 5'7"... not too tall for Brett. Also I brought my glasses for the movie in my little black purse. Fortunately he's already seen me wearing them.
Brett arrived at about three minutes before seven and Mother made me open the door. Then there was the awkward moment when everyone had to be introduced, including Lisa who stared up at this nice-looking young man in this house like he was one of the Jonas Brothers. Daddy was up stairs giving J.J. his bath but Jessy hurried up to take over for him for, as Mother said, it is the daddy's prerogative to approve of the daughter's date. I blushed. But Daddy is very easy-going and Brett is very sensible and they talked for a few moments and seemed to accept each other.
Brett seated me in the car as a gentleman should for a lady. I felt very flattered and even unworthy. I have not been on many first dates at all-- I saw Henry somewhat steadily over my second and last year at HOH and before that I only really hung out with people as part of a crowd. I think maybe three times boys came to the house in Norwich to see me... or sometimes Jessy. Before that we were home-schooled in Lewes and met almost no guys at all. The issue of me going off with someone not related to me whom my parents scarcely know has been pretty much nonexistent till now.
Brett is a good driver and his 200SX is kind of old but well-kept. I put on my seatbelt and kept my knees together and watched him shift gears. Even watching Daddy or Mother do it, that is always something that impresses me.
At the theater he stayed a little behind me as a gentleman is supposed to do and stayed standing till I had sat in the row first. As a movie, 'Beverly Hills Chihuahua' has the ability to make you question your own existence-- I don't mean it's existential. I mean it's so bad you want to just kill yourself. But being intelligent we both made fun of it and had a pretty good time laughing at either the movie's banality or what we said about it. The place was about two-thirds full-- Chincoteague is never busy at this time of year-- with most of the people our age and younger, with the odd parent into the bargain.
Afterwards we drove up to McDonald's and had hot-fudge ice-cream sundaes. I made a stupid comment about 'watching my figure', the kind of thing any girl says just to alleviate the awkwardness of going out on a lovely date with a really nice guy and then wanting to pig out on sugar-covered milk fat, but it led him to comment on my comment which I really did not need at all. 'At least it's worth watching,' he said. And I blushed (like a stupid twit). How could he watch anything? --I was in a floppy sweatshirt.
When we got home we sat in the car in front of the house and talked-- honestly, that was all, about school and Jessy and me going to HOH and his family's business (feed and supplies-- they sell to Perdue-- enough said). Just after 11.00 we walked up to the door. I made sure there were no curious eyes peeking out from between the curtains anywhere before I leaned in and accepted his kiss-- on the cheek, because that is where he was going with it on his own. That flattered me. A guy is usually willing to kiss you anywhere really, but there's always the suggestion that it's all in code-- if it's on the cheek, does that mean he's showing respect at the beginning of something that might develop, or is it the end of something and you shouldn't get your hopes up, or are you just a sister to him; and if it's on the neck that means something totally different, but if it's on the lips is he just being romantic or taking advantage of a situation that he knows will never repeat itself; and at what point is it all just a test of you for him to see if you pass his expectations? And could a girl develop an ulcer from all this?
Dear Brett, if you are reading.... Well first I hope you're not! --because there's so much in here that will embarrass me! But tender me gently, good cavalier-- you deserve only the best in a lady and I am all too aware of the challenge I have to accept.
And, Brett's friends, if you read this, notice I pass no judgements on him-- I would never 'kiss and tell', but to say that our much-admired gentleman is every bit what we want to believe he is, and all the more to be admired.
And, dear blog-readers, your Princess Janine may be too open and too trusting, but, as you already know too well, she is ever a lady (even if she does want a date to the Homecoming dance... hint, hint, HINT).
...
28 September 2008
Ahhhhh.
Sunday 28 September 2008
The aftermath of the northeaster has been fading, leaving us with thick, humid mornings and everyone has been holding onto summer with shorts and skirts and tanktops at school. For church I wore my good white linen skirt that I got in England and a navy-blue sleeveless top and my soft cotton shirt with pale blue and gold and grey stripes that I wear as a jacket. When we got home Mother announced she was yielding to Princess Jessy's need for more makeup and taking her down to Target. At first Lisa wanted to go and then chose to stay home because J.J. had got into the Legos and she wanted to play with that. Daddy promised to keep an eye on them-- which really meant he would play too. So I went up to my room, only long enough to take off everything but my pretty white cotton panties, and I descended for a stroll out in the garden to take in the day.
The humidity of the midday was soft and dull, like a sweaty woollen blanket cast over everything. With deep breaths and long sighs I strolled out past the pool and leaned on the railing of the garden wall at the back of the property, gazing out at the haze of stubborn sun upon the Bay. There was a breath of breeze wafting in from my left, and I realised that out on the barrier island the surf must have been pumping. Jessy and I should really pay another visit to Chincoteague. I would love to get Roger to meet us at school with the sticks on the roof, and we could get changed in the back of the car on the way and paddle out as soon as we got to the beach. I have met a few kids at school who surf and that would really be the envy of them if we were to do that. I would only wish that those kids wouldn't be there to actually see us doing it. I am so out of practice in surfing that I would probably look like an idiot. Then again the water is still warm enough that I wouldn't need any kind of wetsuit, and surfing in a bikini is usually worth any mass quantity of mistakes.
I did not go out the gate and out onto the jetty but turned and wandered back through the garden and went out the north-side gate to the yard. The damp grass was soft and cool on my feet. Feeling indolent I dragged my chaise away from the side of the house to the middle of the lawn and settled down on my back, sighing to feel the welcome sun on my skin.
After maybe half an hour I did not feel any drier for having sat in a damp place and got up, having to rearrange the panties on my skin, and returned to the garden. Without waiting for anyone to see them clinging to my bottom I dove into the pool and then actually swam 20 laps, as Jessy and I started doing on about the second day we were here in Virginia. The panties stayed on and I made pretty good time.
By the time I got out little Lisa had got bored with playing Legos with 'the guys' (Daddy and J.J.) and wandered out to see me swim. I stopped in the shallow end of the pool and said hello.
'Hey,' she said. 'Whatcha doing?'
I shrugged, pulling back my hair with both hands. Lisa is five and ever curious, but fortunately there is really nothing Jessy and I don't share with her. If she has to learn about older girls, she could do far, far worse than to learn from her own two sisters who never ostracise her and will always explain anything in terms she can understand. 'I just wanted to take advantage of the day,' I said.
She smiled, standing there in her little lavender shorts and a white tanktop, looking down at me. I waded to the ladder and arose from the pool, shaking off the water and pulling back my hair again. As though it mattered I carefully adjusted the wet panties on my hips. Lisa met me, still smiling. 'You went swimming in your panties,' she giggled.
I shrugged. 'It was what I had on,' I said.
Lisa laughed. Of course this has happened before. She's seen me in even less. No worries.
We went into the house through the small back parlour and I was able to avoid Daddy and get up to my room. In my bathroom I towelled off while Lisa watched and prattled on about what they had made in J.J.'s room with Legos. Still in the damp panties I sat on the towel at my table and started to type a little in this. But Lisa wanted to stay and I hate having anyone watch while I type, so she sat on my leg and we looked at some of my pictures from HOH and this summer. There were a few of Lisa being cute, swimming with us during our 'Olympics' which we had done 'original style', meaning naked as the Greek men had done in the first days. Jessy and I had helped Lisa refine her crawl stroke and had her swimming laps of the 12-1/2-metre pool within a few days. Mother had been impressed-- so much for paying for swimming lessons. Though we do watch her cautiously, it is with less and less anxiety to see her paddling two or three lengths of the pool nonstop. She wants so much to please Jessy and me, and we want so much to be her best role models.
'With great power comes great responsibility.' Lisa is a responsibility I take very solemnly, and very happily. That doesn't change if she happens to have seen me swimming in my panties after church.
...
The aftermath of the northeaster has been fading, leaving us with thick, humid mornings and everyone has been holding onto summer with shorts and skirts and tanktops at school. For church I wore my good white linen skirt that I got in England and a navy-blue sleeveless top and my soft cotton shirt with pale blue and gold and grey stripes that I wear as a jacket. When we got home Mother announced she was yielding to Princess Jessy's need for more makeup and taking her down to Target. At first Lisa wanted to go and then chose to stay home because J.J. had got into the Legos and she wanted to play with that. Daddy promised to keep an eye on them-- which really meant he would play too. So I went up to my room, only long enough to take off everything but my pretty white cotton panties, and I descended for a stroll out in the garden to take in the day.
The humidity of the midday was soft and dull, like a sweaty woollen blanket cast over everything. With deep breaths and long sighs I strolled out past the pool and leaned on the railing of the garden wall at the back of the property, gazing out at the haze of stubborn sun upon the Bay. There was a breath of breeze wafting in from my left, and I realised that out on the barrier island the surf must have been pumping. Jessy and I should really pay another visit to Chincoteague. I would love to get Roger to meet us at school with the sticks on the roof, and we could get changed in the back of the car on the way and paddle out as soon as we got to the beach. I have met a few kids at school who surf and that would really be the envy of them if we were to do that. I would only wish that those kids wouldn't be there to actually see us doing it. I am so out of practice in surfing that I would probably look like an idiot. Then again the water is still warm enough that I wouldn't need any kind of wetsuit, and surfing in a bikini is usually worth any mass quantity of mistakes.
I did not go out the gate and out onto the jetty but turned and wandered back through the garden and went out the north-side gate to the yard. The damp grass was soft and cool on my feet. Feeling indolent I dragged my chaise away from the side of the house to the middle of the lawn and settled down on my back, sighing to feel the welcome sun on my skin.
After maybe half an hour I did not feel any drier for having sat in a damp place and got up, having to rearrange the panties on my skin, and returned to the garden. Without waiting for anyone to see them clinging to my bottom I dove into the pool and then actually swam 20 laps, as Jessy and I started doing on about the second day we were here in Virginia. The panties stayed on and I made pretty good time.
By the time I got out little Lisa had got bored with playing Legos with 'the guys' (Daddy and J.J.) and wandered out to see me swim. I stopped in the shallow end of the pool and said hello.
'Hey,' she said. 'Whatcha doing?'
I shrugged, pulling back my hair with both hands. Lisa is five and ever curious, but fortunately there is really nothing Jessy and I don't share with her. If she has to learn about older girls, she could do far, far worse than to learn from her own two sisters who never ostracise her and will always explain anything in terms she can understand. 'I just wanted to take advantage of the day,' I said.
She smiled, standing there in her little lavender shorts and a white tanktop, looking down at me. I waded to the ladder and arose from the pool, shaking off the water and pulling back my hair again. As though it mattered I carefully adjusted the wet panties on my hips. Lisa met me, still smiling. 'You went swimming in your panties,' she giggled.
I shrugged. 'It was what I had on,' I said.
Lisa laughed. Of course this has happened before. She's seen me in even less. No worries.
We went into the house through the small back parlour and I was able to avoid Daddy and get up to my room. In my bathroom I towelled off while Lisa watched and prattled on about what they had made in J.J.'s room with Legos. Still in the damp panties I sat on the towel at my table and started to type a little in this. But Lisa wanted to stay and I hate having anyone watch while I type, so she sat on my leg and we looked at some of my pictures from HOH and this summer. There were a few of Lisa being cute, swimming with us during our 'Olympics' which we had done 'original style', meaning naked as the Greek men had done in the first days. Jessy and I had helped Lisa refine her crawl stroke and had her swimming laps of the 12-1/2-metre pool within a few days. Mother had been impressed-- so much for paying for swimming lessons. Though we do watch her cautiously, it is with less and less anxiety to see her paddling two or three lengths of the pool nonstop. She wants so much to please Jessy and me, and we want so much to be her best role models.
'With great power comes great responsibility.' Lisa is a responsibility I take very solemnly, and very happily. That doesn't change if she happens to have seen me swimming in my panties after church.
...
22 August 2008
Okay, so I have to wear something
Monday 18 August 2008
Our uncle and aunt and cousins, who came down from NJ for Jessy's birthday party, are to leave Chincoteague tomorrow, and so it was arranged that we would all drive up to meet them at the beach there. It meant that Jessy and I-- and Lisa too! --would have to actually put on swimsuits, for the first time in about a week. As a form of protest I decided that I was not going to bring anything else-- no other clothes to get into for later, whatever we'd be doing. Naturally I did not tell Mother or Daddy about this. I put on the good yellow bikini I got in England-- it's a pretty conservative cut, almost two inches high at the hips, in a beautiful shade of pale lemon with a very thin light pink stripe going round the bottoms and across the cups. I put up my hair and pulled it through the back of a ball cap and wore my 'dressy' beach sandals, the ones with heels. I brought a little white canvas purse and a plain white terry towel-- that was it.
Jessy descended in the bikini she got in England, which is a string style with a black border round shiny silver splashed in a wild abstract print of blue, light blue, and maroon. It's a great fit-- it makes her legs look really long, though she is not tall at all. She brought a bag with her which had two pairs of shorts in it, one for me although I didn't know it at the time.
We got to the beautiful big beach park at Chincoteague at about 9.15, which is the perfect time to get there. The beach does not formally open till 10.00 so there are places to park and to settle on the sand with your stuff. Daddy got out with J.J. immediately and carried him on his shoulders down almost to the crest of the dune, where he put him down and then raced him-- ON HIS HANDS AND FEET-- down towards the water. J.J. shrieked in glee. (He's 2-1/2 and is good at shrieking.)
This left Mother, Lisa, Jessy and I to carry two chairs, two big blankets, a couple of bags and the rolled-up sun shelter that Daddy made in case our little ones need to get some shade. It's just a piece of black-and-white-striped canvas, about three feet square, and two poles poking into grommets at one end to hold it up. We set this up so as to block the eastern sun and spread one of the blankets under it. Of course Jessy and I are really well tanned already so there wasn't going to be any lying-out for us here. I just dropped my towel in a ball on the sand, laid my hat on top of it, and stepped out of my sandals. Jessy peeled off the t-shirt and we skipped down to the water.
Lisa came with us, and Jessy and I held her hands and helped her duck under waves or leap over them. Soon Mother came out with us, and when our aunt and uncle showed up our cousin Audrey joined us in the water. (Audrey's 11 and getting tall like her mother.)
After noon we all got takeaway from McDonald's, went back to the motel where our cousins were staying and went into the pool there. Later Jessy and I took Lisa and Audrey down Maddox Boulevard to the shops and then back up to play mini golf. Audrey, ever sensible, got dressed and Jessy put on her shorts, but little Lisa and I stayed in our swimsuits all evening. We had a nice time-- Jessy won at mini golf although we all took the time to help Lisa do well. She is very eager to be like her big sisters (and cousin) and will learn anything you teach her.
We walked back to the motel after dark. The adults were sitting round the motel room with the Olympics on but Daddy found an excuse to get away from that and we piled into the van to go home. No one had checked the post and so I strolled down our lane home to the box, which for now is still out at the road. I was still in the bikini and sandals with heels and felt very alluring and cute.
...
Our uncle and aunt and cousins, who came down from NJ for Jessy's birthday party, are to leave Chincoteague tomorrow, and so it was arranged that we would all drive up to meet them at the beach there. It meant that Jessy and I-- and Lisa too! --would have to actually put on swimsuits, for the first time in about a week. As a form of protest I decided that I was not going to bring anything else-- no other clothes to get into for later, whatever we'd be doing. Naturally I did not tell Mother or Daddy about this. I put on the good yellow bikini I got in England-- it's a pretty conservative cut, almost two inches high at the hips, in a beautiful shade of pale lemon with a very thin light pink stripe going round the bottoms and across the cups. I put up my hair and pulled it through the back of a ball cap and wore my 'dressy' beach sandals, the ones with heels. I brought a little white canvas purse and a plain white terry towel-- that was it.
Jessy descended in the bikini she got in England, which is a string style with a black border round shiny silver splashed in a wild abstract print of blue, light blue, and maroon. It's a great fit-- it makes her legs look really long, though she is not tall at all. She brought a bag with her which had two pairs of shorts in it, one for me although I didn't know it at the time.
We got to the beautiful big beach park at Chincoteague at about 9.15, which is the perfect time to get there. The beach does not formally open till 10.00 so there are places to park and to settle on the sand with your stuff. Daddy got out with J.J. immediately and carried him on his shoulders down almost to the crest of the dune, where he put him down and then raced him-- ON HIS HANDS AND FEET-- down towards the water. J.J. shrieked in glee. (He's 2-1/2 and is good at shrieking.)
This left Mother, Lisa, Jessy and I to carry two chairs, two big blankets, a couple of bags and the rolled-up sun shelter that Daddy made in case our little ones need to get some shade. It's just a piece of black-and-white-striped canvas, about three feet square, and two poles poking into grommets at one end to hold it up. We set this up so as to block the eastern sun and spread one of the blankets under it. Of course Jessy and I are really well tanned already so there wasn't going to be any lying-out for us here. I just dropped my towel in a ball on the sand, laid my hat on top of it, and stepped out of my sandals. Jessy peeled off the t-shirt and we skipped down to the water.
Lisa came with us, and Jessy and I held her hands and helped her duck under waves or leap over them. Soon Mother came out with us, and when our aunt and uncle showed up our cousin Audrey joined us in the water. (Audrey's 11 and getting tall like her mother.)
After noon we all got takeaway from McDonald's, went back to the motel where our cousins were staying and went into the pool there. Later Jessy and I took Lisa and Audrey down Maddox Boulevard to the shops and then back up to play mini golf. Audrey, ever sensible, got dressed and Jessy put on her shorts, but little Lisa and I stayed in our swimsuits all evening. We had a nice time-- Jessy won at mini golf although we all took the time to help Lisa do well. She is very eager to be like her big sisters (and cousin) and will learn anything you teach her.
We walked back to the motel after dark. The adults were sitting round the motel room with the Olympics on but Daddy found an excuse to get away from that and we piled into the van to go home. No one had checked the post and so I strolled down our lane home to the box, which for now is still out at the road. I was still in the bikini and sandals with heels and felt very alluring and cute.
...
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