Post-Birthday Bliss

Mistah woke up early the morning after my birthday -- thankfully, because I needed some sleep and we seem to take up more room in the Westy than we used to, somehow -- and got right into the business of fire-rebuilding and coffee-making-on-fire-coals and general MacGyvering . . .

. . . which is excellent, if you're me.

He also walked down to the lake.

Here was my view when I deigned to finally descend from Westy's upstairs . . .

. . . good morning, Mistah!

We planned to head back to the Nutmeg State, to go to a local music fest, but realized it was still morning, we were in Rhode Island, right on the shore, and whew I could use a swim . . .

. . . so we stopped by the beach . . .

. . . and stayed all day.

Oh, and guess what?

I body-surfed!

Shocking, I know.

Also, I know these photos are redundant . . .

. . . I know it seems like they've been repeated a million times . . .

. . . but don't you think it's funny . . .

. . . that I wear the same expression in every bodysurfing shot ever taken of me?

I do. I think it's funny.

And then? The next week our friend Scott came down to cook us dinner.

Yes, "dinner".

"Dinner" as in "lobster and garden veggies in a light homemade pesto sauce over pasta".

That is my kind of dinner.

Scott is very bossy in the kitchen . . .

. . . but we obeyed his every directive.

Of course we did.

He brought lobster.