Scare your son, scare your daughter

I woke up on the floor after a rather pleasant conversation with beth’ cousings eric and dan about his irrational fear of black horses and mushrooms that grow out of hardwood floors. I woke up from Marty calling the family’s son a “little fart” and that was so overwhelmingly true that i immediately gained full consciousness.

Marty, taking care of the little menance

we had some beautiful blueberry pancakes for breakfast, the whole fat through maple syrup conversation ahppened and i then took off on the fourwheeler with Marty who clearly felt the need for speed. to continue the testosterone streak i got to drive a huge truck that was essentially not capable of steering and acted like a piece of soap in a sink, my feelings of manliness are hard to describe.

we all risked our lives on the back of the pickup truck again and swan in the st. laurence river, by the time i got out of the water my hair was filled with various types of dirt and it got even worse when i finally had the fourwheeler for myself and was the little boy that i am deep on the inside… rode it for at least an hour, sped through sandy roads and grassy plains, thus acquring the highly valuable skill of riding a fourwheeler with manual shifitng. go me.

my notes are failing me here. apparently i started writing down what had happened while Beth lived the boring life and zoned out… as far as i recall it we later had some quality time on the trampoline, it was so warm that jumping on it was pretty much suicide. so beth and i lay there, tanned ourselves until it was time to go back to the mainland where we all watched the fireworks from a pier at the clayton harbor in front of a beautiful sunset. sounds cheesy but that is how it was.

Beth on the trampoline.

Me in the boat on the way back