I mean, I grew up frolicking in the murky jelly fish infested, tar laden shores of Port Aransas. And when I say grew up, I mean, when I was old enough to get down there... Grita is not a fan of the beach.
But, once I laid eyes on the Caribbean shores, I was hooked. Port Aransas is no Cancun. But... it is the beach.
I was crossing my fingers that the fruit of my loins would also be beach babies... As luck would have it, they both really liked the beach. Stratty who never cries about anything (aside from hunger and poopy diapers) pitched a wall-eyed fit when he was not granted permission to crawl at will into the surf unattended. The Diva wanted to spend all her time in the water jumping waves. Ahhh. Aunt Sandy would be so proud.
And while, I'd like to think that Aunt Sandy was watching over us from heaven and protecting us while we splashed about in the gulf... she must have had to take a tinkle break. Because poor Opes felt the wrath of a "jelly bean, that ate her up!" Damn jelly fish. A kind stranger on the beach lent us a shot of vinegar to kill the pain. Seems like in the not so distant past another stranger lent us a shot of vodka for hair lightening.... ahhh good times.
All in all the trip was GREAT! We tanned responsibly... and came home ready to make the trip again soon.
Peace out!
XOXOX
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