Beaches Bombs Bunkers Babes and Boobs

Ok, so this has nothing to do with boobs but that word just gets attention, especially on a family blog.

I have had 2 shandys and a glass of wine tonight. I am home with 4 kids (We didn’t clone Niamh and Finn. We have temporary custody of a couple of pals). I have made 3 batches of brownies in the last 24 hours. I bathed 2 puppies and supervised the installment of a dog poop septic tank. I think I can say boobs if I want to. This is my life. Go ahead and make fun of me. I deserve it. I used to have long hair. Then, I cut my hair and I look like a boy with mascara on. Boobs.

Anyway, where was I?

Ah, yes, I was camping. This time at Fort Worden in Port Townsend. The weather in Seattle was in the high 90s. 77 degrees is my upper limit of comfortable. After that, my skin itches, my freckles reproduce, my back sweats, and I pant like a dog, all while I point fans to blow up my skirt. So, getting out of Seattle when Seattle turned up the heat to kill the weak and the Irish was a really good thing.

It was the same old gang and their assigned adult.

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I love the same old gang. And this time I got to bring my new pups.

I’m lucky that I accidentally got the kids in a few photos. The next few months of their lives may not get much documentation. Niamh and Finn have recently grown in to their heads, so my gangly pups with their big feet get most of the camera time.

Pup Tent, get it?

Did I say Finn has grown in to his head? I didn’t mean that. Strike that. That may never happen.

While Fort Worden has some really cool bunkers and old military shelters, a Marine Science Center, and a Geological Museum all right there around the camp ground, we didn’t venture to explore any of it. We made it to the burger shack, in to town for lunch (eating at a restaurant is my way of camping), and across the parking lot to the beach. Other than that, we just moved our chairs around campsite #9, chasing the shade or the sun, depending on each individual’s skin’s preference, and watched the kids play on the old bombs (they may be buoys, we couldn’t decide). We barely even moved to take the kids to the toilet. I’d estimate about 75% of the kids’ pee went in the surrounding shrubs, 20% was in their pants, and 5% was in a proper bathroom. I’m sure that’s the way the Pioneers did it.

            Meg barely brought enough food for her little family, but she did have a jog stroller and a mighty deck chair packed in her car.

             We don’t know this little girl but she liked our puppies so she’s cool in my book.                      

And then we went home. And on the way home I created a bit of a ruckus with Washington State Ferry Security when I parked my car right up against the arm that stops you from driving off the dock. Apparently, that’s exactly what the poor excited man thought I was getting ready to do, drive right off the dock. You see, what really happened is, I was the first car to get in line for the next ferry. The ticket agent just told me to drive up to the line. There is no sign to say STOP before you get to that arm- the one protecting the public from the end of the dock. SO, I just drove up to that point, stopped the car, and starting texting on my iPhone. The man was close to hysteria when he ran to my car yelling Lady, what are you doing?  Texting? I replied. Geez, its not like I’m crazy or anything.