Life's a beach.

Missed us, did you? Well, we were away at the beach. Nothing like a little fun in the sun to make you forget there's only a month before the next set of off-treatment scans. No, Scanxiety, you cannot reach me here where the sand is hot and the beer is cold.


Eve can barely contain her excitement. It's 11 p.m., and there's no sign of a crib!


You ever try letting a kid sleep in a big bed with her big sister when she's never before done that in her life? Yeah, you'd only do that once, too. 2 a.m. bedtimes do not make for such charming children the next day. Crib requested the following morning. Now we can start our "vacation."

Vacation:
1 : a respite or a time of respite from something. (We did enjoy a respite from healthy eating. But french fries and milkshakes do count as vegetables and dairy in the public school system.)
2 : a scheduled period during which activity is suspended. (Like the will to enforce limits on Spongebob Squarepants?)
3 : a period spent away from home or business in travel or recreation. (Home is where your family is. I'm not sure this necessarily qualifies as vacation.)
4 : an act or an instance of vacating. (Deep thinking, definitely vacated.)

"Wish you were here!", take one:


Behind the scenes:



The weather was perfect. This was our first beach trip that there were no thunderstorms. A sign from God, perhaps? Are we even yet, Griffith family?

The first day on the beach, Eve wore a pink swimsuit with a built-in tutu. Let me repeat, this was a PINK swimsuit with a TUTU. She ran toward a giant sandcastle and jumped belly first into it. A woman sitting nearby said, "He really just enjoys the sand, doesn't he?" I'm on vacation. I'm not correcting these people anymore.

And cue the lady's friend sitting in the next chair: "My son used to LOVE to wear pink when he was little!" Ok, but did you let him wear the matching pink tutu, too?

I love the beach. I'm really big into people-watching. The beach is hands-down the best place for this. I think it even trumps people-watching at the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

I love the old ladies walking down the beach with their breakfast beers. I think the saying in Myrtle Beach is, "It's 9:00 somewhere." I love the preschoolers fighting over the Budweiser towels. I love the men in the sleeveless t-shirts that say, "Came to Myrtle Beach on vacation, left Myrtle Beach on probation." This is the stuff dreams are made of! The world is my oyster.

Eve's favorite pastime was rolling around in the sand, letting each grain stick to her thickly sunscreened-up skin. And then, maybe because she really did think I would enjoy it, the sand would be poured down my swimsuit. There are some parts of your body you just don't need to exfoliate, Eve.

I am proud to report that not one of us got sunburned this vacation. And we logged A LOT of sun time. We were given copious amounts of canned sunscreen to spray generously all over ourselves. And thank goodness we had so much, because Eve threw one off our 8th floor balcony, narrowly missing someone walking below by about three feet. Dear God, thank you for keeping Eve safe. Please help us keep others safe from Eve, if you're not too busy.

We went down to Broadway at the Beach to eat dinner and watch the fireworks on July 4th. We managed to catch four different fireworks shows that night. In between each show, Downstairs Eve came out to let us know she wanted more.




Whew, there we go. You can go back upstairs, Eve.

No cooking. No cleaning. No cancer. No sunburns. We even got to end the trip with a visit to Cracker Barrel, where I ate a life-altering fried pork chop. This uncomfortable picture sums it up: