Well.
Before I write anything else, I have to say thank you for all your kind words about Scout and for sharing stories of your own pets. I read through the comments and shed more than a few tears because how do these creatures become such a part of our families?
The irony is I’m typing this as I maneuver around Mabel’s head which is currently resting on my stomach.
Yes. That’s right. Mabel is up on the couch where she’s not supposed to be but I’m still in a little bit of mourning and Mabel and I understand each other. I’m sure we’ll write some haikus before it’s all said and done.
But even though our beach trip ended on a little bit of a sad note, we had a great time. We left San Antonio on Sunday afternoon after our Community Worship Service and after we’d loaded down P’s truck with enough stuff to make me hum the theme from The Beverly Hillbillies as we pulled away from the house.
The good news is if we’d found ourselves stranded somewhere along the two and half hour drive, we would have plenty of assorted brands of potato chips to sustain us. We are a people who believe that no beach trip is complete without both Honey BBQ Fritos and Chili Cheese Fritos, along with regular Fritos for the bean dip. Which I believe are all the building blocks of the Whole 30 Diet.
We were almost to Corpus Christi when P realized that while he’d remembered to pack forty-two different fishing poles and various nets, he had forgotten his swim suit and his swim shirt. So we made a quick stop by Roy’s Bait and Tackle where he found a swim suit and then I ran in a surf shop and bought swim shirts for P, Caroline and Gulley’s boys because we are all about some SPF awareness. But I was in a hurry because we were trying to get to the beach and they had the long sleeve shirts hanging way up high and the sales girl couldn’t have been more annoyed that I was in her store trying to make a purchase. Which is why Jackson and P ended up with the exact same shirt.
The first day we just had a little time on the beach because we arrived late afternoon, but Monday was a full day and we set up camp. The kids swam with the dads while Gulley and I talked about how our twenty-something selves would be disappointed in our forty-something selves for not getting out there and riding in the waves, but we were okay with that because our forty-something selves are much wiser.
And we were vindicated when our people caught not one but two – TWO – sharks right where they’d been swimming only minutes earlier.
P said they’re just baby sharks. But you know what most babies have? Mamas and daddies. Which is why I prefer the comfort of my beach chair and a good book. There’s a 97% less chance of getting eaten while sitting at the water’s edge in a lounge chair munching on Fritos. That’s just a scientific fact.
But the kids loved the adventure and P had also come up with the idea to go crabbing. I was excited about this because I have the best memories of crabbing with my Pa-Pa when I was little and the kids loved it. It turns out that catching crabs basically requires not much more than putting a fish head on a string and checking it every few minutes. And so the kids reeled in their crabs while Jon and P took turns filling the crab bucket with fresh water to keep them alive so we could cook them later that night.
Because here’s something you may not know, do not eat a crab that has died. I read all about it when I googled “How do you cook a crab?” on the internet. You have to drop them in the pot while they’re alive which gave me pause. However, you can sedate them by putting them in a cooler of ice for ten minutes or so which I highly recommend to save yourself and the crab undue trauma.
Here are our crabbers. Caroline is doing her imitation of a crab. Clearly, it’s a remarkable re-enactment.
And here are our crabs after we cooked them.
I have to say we felt no small amount of pride over the fact that we caught and cooked our own dinner. It was like we were Jacque Cousteau and Julia Childs all rolled into one. The only problem was we didn’t have any legitimate crab-eating utensils so P got a pair of pliers and a hammer out of the back of his truck. So in hindsight maybe we were less Julia Childs and more rednecks of the sea.
The next day was a little more low-key. There were no sharks to speak of or really any fish out in the surf, so the kids just played around and built sandcastles and rode waves most of the day. Meanwhile, I read a Texas Monthly article all about the 35th anniversary of Urban Cowboy that was maybe the most informative piece of journalism I’ve read in a long time. I learned all about the history of Gilley’s, the dawn of the mechanical bull, John Travolta wore Gap jeans in the movie, and that Michelle Pfeiffer almost played Sissy instead of Debra Winger. That’s a full day of knowledge right there.
And the last day it was just P, Caroline and me because Gulley and her family had headed back to San Antonio the night before. The surf was so calm that last day that it looked like a lake when we first got there around noon and so Caroline and I built sandcastles and we all searched for shells and just enjoyed the day.
P couldn’t find his big hat.
And right before we said goodbye to the beach for another year, we all decided to take some pictures for posterity. We felt they should be very serious.
And then I tried it and they wanted to mock me and said I have no ups.
Of course I don’t. I can’t remember that I’ve ever claimed otherwise. It’s like they had me mistaken for an extra in Bring It On. You know what’s a victory for me? That I didn’t twist my ankle on the way down.
Which is why I prefer to stick to this pose.
We’re now officially into our last full week of summer so I’m sure I’ll be back at some point this week. Or I might just soak in every last minute of freedom before the calendar rules our lives again.