Weathered the Storm...

Came through the hurricane relatively unscathed; never even lost power at the inland house. (You'd think winds like that would have brought down all of the dead limbs in the tulip tree, but nooooo...)

It was close, though, in Avalon; damn good thing Grandfather wanted the foundation a bit higher so he could store his little Boston Whaler under the house off-season. The one pier is more or less in the neighbor's marsh, the floating docks are in the neighbor's yard (you can see one of them below, behind the boat) and the older pier needed re-decking anyway...

Go fly a kite...

I prefer young things with four feet and fur, but even I must admit that my three year old nephew is quite an engaging little imp. And very photogenic in a happy, goofy way. (Sure wish I could still translate toddler talk, though; I used to excel at it when his dad was his age.)

My brother's family's first trip to the Jersey shore!

Of all things, they forgot the life jacket for the visit to Grandmom's shore house. (And on a day with a nearly-full moon, spring tide no less--there's usually land out there, a few miles of it across to the mainland on the horizon. Tides had to have been running close to 8 feet above mean low this weekend.) Makes it a bit tricky dealing with a boy who doesn't know how to stand still and loves water.

And then Auntie Wren has to go and point out a crab on the piling… (Happy to report that no one went swimming unintentionally. Hah! We didn't have to even have railings on these docks when I was that age.)

Videos are serious business, enough to justify sitting still.

(For about four and a half minutes. Maybe.)

Kites are never serious business.

"Higher! HIgher!"

Can you tell that it was Lucas' first experience flying a kite?

(Notice the tippy toes...)

Flying!

Dad figured out how to make it dance. So Lucas did, too.

Adventures in Evacuations. [one last photo added]

Everyone fit: birds, fish, snake, cats and dog! Okay, so minivans, especially those with stow-away seats, have their uses. Still don't like 'em for everyday use.

One reason I have goldfish and not tropical or saltwater fish: they're fine in a bowl. Or a pretzel jug.

 Ditto on bettas.

 :o)

Here we are post-"imminent tornado" warnings (north Delaware). Budgies and doves in the other basement room. The cockatiel travel cage is in one of the crates.

And I was worried about my houseplants being mangled by high winds and pounding rain... *pfft* The little rose pot at the top left fell over (but not off the shelf) and Big Momma Monstera fell over and took out a few branches of a mum. That's it. Irene didn't even manage to clear all of the small dead limbs out of the trees. I even had to water some of the plants. :o/

Flooding, Monday afternoon. (Cape May County saw little of the rain the rest of the mid-Atlantic received in early August, so the ground wasn't at all saturated. I've had worse puddles after a good rainstorm.)

The only proof that a good bit of rain came down all at once: wash piles of needles at the lowest end of my drive. My skylight didn't even leak.

Wind damage. That log's maybe three feet long and not quite two inches across. And half of it is still on the tree. It even missed my truck by yards.

All in all, an interesting experience and a monstrously lucky break.

NOT PERFECT BUT...

Too cute not to post, even when I've already tweaked the beejeebers out of it. (I made the mistake of showing it to my brother and SIL while it was still in the camera. *lol*)


New-for-me photo editing software still in box. Will have to test it out on this cutie-pie when I get it installed!

REVENGE IS SWEET

And, in the case of my two year old nephew, pretty damn cute as well.


Who knew cartoons were such serious business?


Sand is definitely serious business.


The ball that went off the second story deck is very serious business indeed.


Bubbles, however, are never serious business.

Payback was worth a thirty-five year wait; as sweet and cute as he is, our mother claims Lil' Man is more of a handful than my brother ever was. Funny, my brother doesn't seem to mind…

BIRTHDAY BOY(s)

My two-legged nephew turned one last week. My baby brother turned 35 two days before that, as he so gleefully enjoyed pointing out. I really didn’t need (or care) to be reminded and told him so, but our mother had the last word: "Ahem, I am twice as old as you are!"

The brat—er, brother—is rightfully proud of the little bugger—er, boy. He’s a hoot, and a remarkably happy baby. Lil’ Man did fabulously throughout the day with 30 odd people milling about his house. (It may, however, take days for my four-legged nephews to recover. Poor pussycats.) He only lost it once, when everybody cheered at the end of the singing/cake-and-candle ritual, but quickly recovered.


Father and son. Definitely Daddy's Boy.


How do you start this thing? (Or Where's first? He figured out reverse on his own.)


Binkies are better! (The red icing dot was courtesy of Lil’s Man’s crazy Uncle G.; the rest is the result of Lil’ Man’s taste test: icing was OK, cake—not as good as a binky.)