Da Fest

It was Sailfest XXXIX and it was possibly the weirdest one yet. You know how the beach usually is on Sailfest Saturday?

This year? Not so much. Brrrr.

But it was nice and warm inside.

(This was in response to a back-and-forth I was having with Jacquie. She called me a liar because I apparently told her I LOVED a book I didn't even READ. She read it and hated it and is mad at ME.

I wrote "I am cracking up so loudly out loud." She replied, "I can't believe anything you say any more. Are you *really* cracking up? Is it *really* loud?" I responded, "Ask all the peoples around me."



The fireworks on Saturday night, you ask? Why yes, there were fireworks on Saturday night. Yes, we watched them. No, we didn't take photos. Thankfully my friend Christine was at a fancy party on a boat on the Thames River and she texted me one blurry photo.

Thank you, Christine.

But anyway.

Sunday morning dawned which means one thing and one thing only on Sailfest Sunday . . .

. . . rum and pineapples and a visit from Lou. Who is the only one who had the sense to take photos of our spectacular breakfast.

Later that day we had to say goodbye to these cuties . . .

. . . Sob. Good luck in See-cuse, kids.

Bocce replaced beachtime and a backyard goodbye party replaced piertime but the food and the drinks and the friends and the Field and the Deck were all Sailfest Perfection.

And when I say perfection . . .

. . . I mean perfection.

Bring on XL.