J and I spent the weekend at his dad’s on the coast of Mass. His Grandma and Aunt TravelWhore (she picked the name, I swear!!!) were visiting, so it was a bit of a family reunion.
J’s dad and stepmom (MartiniShaker and GottaMove) recently moved to a new seashore town where J’s stepbrother and family live (in fact, right down the street). After several grueling months of renovations, they were finally ready to show off their house to their neighbors, so there was a big party Friday night.
Picture the street like it’s stuck in the 1950s, where children can play freely and families gather and talk.
Houses on this dead-end street don’t actually go on sale. And this is the only street where the real estate crash has been non-existent. It’s word of mouth. It’s just that great of a street.
J, Aunt TravelWhore and I were helping with the food situation so MartiniShaker and GottaMove could socialize. Which led to us being mistakened for the caterers. We should have put out our tip jar.
On Sunday, we went sailing!!!!!! My first time ever! And I’m hooked! I already wrote my letter to Santa asking for a sailboat, so fingers crossed. I had to dig deep in my brain to revive my boating skills from earlier in the summer. Although, I realized sailing was a whole new ballgame from motorboats, with a whole new jargon!
Other than all that, I had one too many blueberry lemon drops and melon martinis, courtesy of my FIL, J got to play his first game of golf all summer, where he proceeded to show that he still had game and hit his ball on the top of someone’s golf cart (that’s called a hawk) and we spent enough time with young children to know … you know.