Belleair Beach -- Tuesday

Day 3, I think…

What's Wrong?  Nothing, That's What!

A beautiful beach, calm and beautiful water, no barking dogs, no blaring t.v.'s or music.  The sweet woman who apparently is the only person running this place spent forever trying to figure out why she wasn't able to hook up the VCR before I suggested trying the other tape I'd brought and we realized the first tape was damaged.  Now I have TV, VCR and DVD player, and have pretty much decided I didn't miss them all that much while I didn't have them.

This is how nice it is here:

When I went out to the beach today, there were three beautiful but not completely whole shells that a thoughtful scavenger had left.  I picked them up and pondered my old beachcombing days on the Gulf with my babes, and then put them back down.

A short while later, two beefy ten-year-or-so old boys clambered past, and one said, "Look at this!" and they went over and picked them up.  Before I could even begin to grumble to myself about kids on the beach, the first one turned to me and said, "Excuse me, are these yours?"

Tiny Voices

So here I am at a small quiet spot (Resort? No I think not.) which is as much for families as any and still be peaceful.  And every now and then I hear a tiny little voice chattering happily.  And I recall the so-many vacations with my babes.  Antoinette, brimming with enthusiasm over, well, anything we were doing.  Nikko, less ebullient, but always interested in whatever was there.  The year we read about dribble castles

we went to Marco Island, where we were able to spend the week happily dribbling castle after castle, where we were told by regulars that this was the best year for shelling they had ever seen, and I believe it.

The following year at Sanibel was our first Florida vacation just the three of us, and up three flights seven-year-old Nikko lugged up the bags with his sister.  We walked into our unit and looked out on a breathtaking view, and the following night sat through a terrifying thunderstorm, munching on M&M's to calm us through the power outage.

Then there were two years at Sea Oats Beach Club in Fort Myers, an easier exchange to swap than either of the other two exclusive resort areas.  I can't recall the name of the resort, just the Tiki Hut, where we played bingo, and I learned that my son a) loved gambling and b) was lucky.  I still have the key holder that he won.

As Vonnegut would say, "And so it goes."

Errata

Not Tiki Hut – Chickie Hut

Errata II

Chickee Deck