A Pocket Full of Shells

 (My apologies if you will now have "Bulls on Parade" running through your head the remainder of the day).

This month, DH and I took our first family vacation in probably twenty years.  I know we didn't take one in 2007, the year DS1 graduated from high school, and the next year he was in the Marine Corps when we took the other three kids out to Oregon and back roadtripping to (and from) the family reunion hosted by DH's second youngest aunt. So it's been twenty years, or maybe even 21, since DH, I and all four of our children (and population exploded family) went away together on vacation.

We (DH & I) have talked about doing this for a long time, especially in the last several years.  Then, in 2025, on the flight back from taking K3 and Toad to Sedona over Spring Break, DH asked the two of them for ideas of places we could all go on vacation together in the future.  K3 said "The beach!"  Specifically she was thinking of Myrtle Beach, where we had taken her and Toad back in 2022, and her alone way back in 2015 (which she couldn't remember that trip because she was only 3 at the time.)

Which was how this family vacation went from concept to reality in 2026.  DH. Me.  Our four kids.  Their spouses (and DD2s current boyfriend [whom I really do need to assign a blog name to because he's looking more and more like a lifer]).  Nine grandkids (Two-EEs daughter Cowgirl didn't come; at 17 and having been living with her father and step-mother for the last few years she has in the past 8 months or so decided she doesn't 'need' her mother or that side of the family.)  Myrtle Beach.  Four days, three nights, lodging for everyone covered by DH and I. (They were on their own for food, transportation and activity expenses.)

It was chaotic.  I mean, is it even possible for anything involving 19 people, 9 of them children, to not be chaotic?  It was often loud. (NINE children!)  Was it enjoyable?  Do any of us ever want to attempt such a thing again?

YES!  And another YES!  In fact, on the long car ride home, there were texts flying back and forth vehicle to vehicle and state to state (it's about a 14 hour drive for most of us) proposing we do a huge group trip every 2-3 years.  Possible future vacation destinations were tossed around; from mountains to beaches to National Parks.

But back to this current vacation.  I tried to walk the beach every day.  Sometimes at low tide, sometimes at high tide.  Sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening.

And it seemed that I couldn't take a beach walk without coming back with shells in my pocket.  Which brought to mind the lyric "rally round the family with a pocket full of shells".  Different context, different shells from the song mentioned above, but it sorta fit.  Lotta family.  Lotta shells.

some of my favorite shells are teeny, but intact

In addition to finding shells, there was 

--swimming, both in the ocean and several of the resort's pools (most of which I did not have my phone for, so very few swimming pictures)

9 grandkids together on the beach!, 

Buck, K3 holding Lucky, Toad holding Octavia, Rascal, Tractor (front), Faline (mostly hidden by Tractor), Sixlet

--kite flying; tiny kites that hardly show up in the pictures although we watched from our balcony other people (adults) flying huge shark and squid kites

--group dinners made in one or both of the suites we stayed in (one 3-bedroom suite and one 2-bedroom suite).  Smoked brisket and pulled pork (the first night, brought from home, smoked by DH), spaghetti and meatballs, make-your-own taco bar (Tuesday!), and white chicken chili with toasted baguettes (which oddly enough wasn't the wrong temp/flavor for a hot humid southern evening and was heartily enjoyed by all ages).

waiting to be called to dinner

waiting again

--kids babysat by aunts and uncles while sets of parents each had a turn at a childess afternoon or evening out.

DD1 in charge of (niece) Octavia

 --general shenanigans

Monkeys on the luggage cart

"Hiding"

Can a 2 year old fit in the cabinet?

Yes, yes he can.

--and even a succesful family picture (which I decided was too many tiny faces to try to make them unrecognizable/anonymous so I could share it online and abide by my own no recognizable faces blog photos rule).  I have plans for that family picture to be enlarged and printed on a canvas to hang on my living room wall before the year is through. (We also have not had a 'real' family picture since before DS1 graduated high school in 2007.  Its been a crazy past 20 years.)

In addition to our mass activities, some family members formed various smaller groups for various outings (I didn't go, so didn't get pictures) such as:

• miniature golf 
• go-carts 
• an aquarium visit 
• a driving range
• a nature preserve 

And while they were gone to those things, I enjoyed some peace and quiet, reading or knitting or beach walking or sitting on the edge of the water just feeling the waves and thinking; and recharging my (introvert) batteries for more group fun!

The Bear Trash Can (aka my recycling bin)

 This post might get a little long, there's a story to tell.  Bear with me.  (Ha ha, you'll get the pun if you read all the way through.)

This is my "recycling bin".  It is what I've put my recyclables into for over 20 years.  We do not have curbside recycling out in the country where this little place here is located.  We have to provide our own collection container and drive our recyclables to a transfer station or other recycling location (depending on what we are trying to recycle).  As mentioned in this recent post.

Prior to being my recycling bin, it was our trash can.  Around the time we finished building the house and moved into this little place here, most of the trash companies were getting out of bag pick-up and going to wheeled trash bins that they provided their customers.  So my trash can became my recycling bin in the early 2000's.

About ten years prior to that; in 1991, DH and I purchased it (most likely from Pamida or Kmart, as those were the two housewares shopping options where we lived) when we moved to the U.P. (Upper Peninsula for you non-Michiganders and non-Sconnies).  We kept it in our enclosed, but unheated, back porch in the first rental we lived in while DH was in college at the engineering college there.  The second rental we lived in, his final year of college, did not have an enclosed porch.  So we kept this trash can on the back deck of our mobile home which was situated on a corner of the landlord's farm, with woods about 50' from our back door.

The close proximity to the woods is important here.  Because it's how the recycling bin got to be known as the Bear Trash Can in our family.

There were (and still are) black bears in that part of Michigan.  Occasionally we'd see a bear on one of the dirt roads we drove on going to or from work (me) or classes (DH). Including the dirt road we lived on. More consistently, they could be spotted near the dumpsters behind the grocery store in town.

One night, in very early April 1993 (we remember the time frame because DS2 was born the second week of March that year, and he was not yet a month old), DH and I both were woken up from a sound sleep (remember, we had a newborn, so if we were actually asleep it was a pass out from exhaustion kind of sleep!) by what sounded like footsteps and heavy breathing in our living room.

He looked at me, and I looked at him, both wide-eyed in the darkness, and he said "Did you hear that?" To which I replied with a question and a request "Is somebody in the house?  You get up and go check!"

With hearts hammering, I checked on DS2 asleep in basinette right next to the bed, and DH grabbed a baseball bat (why it was in our bedroom, I have no clue). He quietly slipped out of the bedroom, through the utility/laundry room that joined our added-on master bedroom to the rest of the mobile home, and peeked around the corner where the kithen was to his left and the living room to his right.  Turning on lights as he went, he searched the living room, hallway, bathroom, DS1's little bedroom (where he was thankfully still asleep), then the kitchen last.  He found no person in our home, even though he checked behind the shower curtain in the bathroom; we were both that sure we'd heard the breath and heavy footsteps of a human.

Sure now that there was no one in the home, DH stepped out onto the back porch and shone a flashlight around toward the driveway, looking for a person or a car.  Seeing nothing but our own vehicles, he went back to bed where we rehashed what we'd heard.  Eventually we both calmed down enough to get back to sleep, although I'm pretty sure there was a diaper change and feeding for DS2 first.

The next morning, DH went outside for something (I don't remember what, very possibly to drive to the college and go to class), but that's when he noticed our trash can was missing.  It had been on the back deck the night before, and now was not there.  In the daylight he could see much further than he had with the flashlight the night before, and he thought he could see a bit of blue out in the woods behind the house.  So he walked out to investigate, and found our trash can.

As you can see in the picture at the beginning of this story, it has handles that latch down to hold the lid on.  When DH found it, the lid was not on it anymore, and our trash was scattered around.  That was odd.  

Finding the lid, he picked it up to place it back on the trash can (he had gathered up all the trash that he could and put it in the can).  That's when he noticed two punctures near one of the handles.  Weird, but whatever.

(Ignore the flyspecks.  Ugh.  Apparently I need to wash my recycling bin.)

It wasn't until the following weekend, when we took our trash to the township collection site (they were open twice a month for residents to bring in their trash; no pick-up service available in that rural spot in the 1990s) that one of the men working there commented on our trash can lid.

"Looks like you had a bear, eh?" he said.

 And suddenly it all made sense.  Those footsteps and the heavy breathing that had woken us up that one night?  That wasn't a human intruder in our living room.  That was a hungry bear on our back deck (the other side of the living room wall) snuffling around and absconding with our trash can.  Those punctures in the lid?  Bear tooth marks, where it had bit the lid while prying it off to get to the trash inside.

So that's why, even though we haven't needed a trash can for trash in over two decades, we didn't get rid of it.  We kept it and repurposed it for holding recyclables.  That trash can is a part of our history, with a great story of its own, and neither DH nor I will ever willingly part from it.  Its the Bear Trash Can.

I Love The Sky

 Apparently, from looking at my camera roll, I love the sky.  It's not a new thing, it's been going on for years.  I all ready knew that I tend to take more pictures of plants and animals than I do of people.  What I didn't really think about was how many photos I take of the sky in all its moods and formations.

Friday Randomness

 It's been a long (but short; fast, busy) week.  

We've had some hot humid weather, several rainstorms, and a 15-ish hour power outage.  

We had Faline, Buck and Sixlet for about 7 straight hours on Saturday while DD1, Honorary Son and his parents went to a Detroit Tigers game.

Visiting Jedi, Crockett and Tubbs

Buck and Sixlet in the sprinkler

Faline and Sixlet lying out to dry in the sun

 We went out to eat several times, which is unlike us, but happened to work out that way.  Once was meeting Honorary Son and DD1 to hand off their kids after the baseball game. The other due to being too dang hot to cook on the stove or the oven and the one meat store that I can actually eat their lunchmeat (without my body protesting) being all out of said meat when I went to buy it in order to make (the planned) sub sandwiches for that night's dinner.

I rode bareback (the first time in over a decade for me on any horse) on the Little Black Mare when one of her scheduled training days ended up being a light but steady rain and I didn't want to get my saddle soaking wet.  I'm fairly certain she's never been ridden bareback before, but she adapted to it well.  It felt weird for me too, and the first five minutes I was trying to get my own bearings, but after that I'd say we both enjoyed it (minus the uptick in rain in our faces that made me cut the session short after a bit).

I rode a lot (2-3 horses) on days that the weather was cooperative and only one horse or even zero horses on days that it wasn't.  Like the day that was 70-something degrees and 90+ percent humidity at sunrise and I was heat sick practically from the moment I got out of bed.  No riding that day; I didn't want to pass out and fall off a horse.  Instead, that day, I did only necessary horse chores (feeding, turnout, cleaning stalls bringing in, feeding) and slowly with frequent breaks.  Well, plus cooking and laundry, and housekeeping (but you know, depending on who you talk to, those don't count as work 😠).  

K3 came over on a not-rainy morning (original day had been rescheduled due to weather) to ride Jedi with my helpful instruction. (aka had a riding lesson).  They are starting to mesh a bit more as she learns the similarities and differences between him and the LBM (who she rode off and on the past two summers) and he tests her a bit to determine if she's the boss or if he is (and, with my guidance, she wins those challenges). 

pre-ride, heading in for grooming and saddling

post-ride, rolling his sweaty itches away

I assembled the new 'bistro set' I had purchased on sale on-line at Mother's Day (which had been super delayed in shipping) and installed it in its intended spot on the deck.  Even gave DH a haircut out there while he sat on one of the chairs ("It's very skinny.  And upright.")  Given that all of our other outdoor seating is extra wide and tends to make you sit slightly reclined (which I find uncomfortable), yes, yes it is skinny and upright.  It's just what I wanted for that space.  That space happens to be the 8-10 feet between the sliding door in the dining room and the sliding door in the living room and needs something that doesn't sprawl too far onto the deck or too close to either door.  Skinny.  And upright.

DH got my little tiller running--it had needed a tune-up--and between the two of us we got all the tilling done between rows of vegetables in the six planted sections of the garden.  I hand weeded around the tomato plants in four of the seven rows of tomatoes (and then a storm hit).

Two of the weeded rows,

unfortunately the dang deer have bitten off about half of those plants.

I found a nice rock in the garden, which I had to take a picture of so I could text the pun to DD2, whom I knew would get it.  Geology and puns, two of my favorite things.  Which are also two of her favorite things.

A gneiss rock.

(Nice, ha ha, get it?)

DH (finally) added fill dirt, brought to level, and put the pavers back into the section of the front walkway that we'd had to trench under (and thus removed the pavers from) back in 2022 when running the new underground electric line from the main box on the front of the garage to the barn (and then to his shop).  Those pavers have been piled in the middle of that spot ever since, with weeds growing up around them and making it difficult to keep the walkway weed-free or snow-free for almost four years now.  So I was really happy that he took it upon himself to complete this task that I'd tried to tactfully remind him of once or twice a year.

 

Re-installed pavers! 

7 pavers long and 5 pavers wide.

Also thrilling (and lavish praise rendered), was that DH decided to use the weed whip to get the rest of the walkway totally weed-free and mostly edged.  Hooray!  It's been several years since the whole thing was cleaned up at once.

The peonies have been in bloom, and with the heat are wrapping up very quickly.  It's been nice to enjoy their cheerful pop of color and wonderful smell this week.

a bouquet of peonies and mock orange

Also blooming are the spiderwort

and my Louisiana Black Gamecock iris (which seems to bloom every other year for me).

On the stormy night that took out our power, DH and I sat out on the front porch after the wind had died down and the rain had left, and watched the sunset while we talked.  The Yarn Thief joined us for part of that time.

Later, after it was dark and we had gone to bed--with the front door open as well as all the windows to try to get a breeze through the stuffy, very warm (80-ish degree) house--we were woke up by what sounded like something hitting the screen door at the bottom of the stairs (bedrooms are upstairs, the flight of stairs lines up with the front door, great for getting airflow into the bedroom area on a summer night).  

DH grabbed a flashlight and looked down the stairs, to see a raccoon on the porch right at the door. 

Well, that wouldn't do, we'd been trying to catch a lingering pesky raccoon in our traps with no luck lately.  So I hopped out of bed too, to be the flashlight bearer while DH grabbed the .22 and we went out coon hunting!  

The coon had fled up a cottonwood tree between the house and a corner of the garden when it heard us coming down the stairs and out the front door.  With me standing near the trunk shining the flashlight up into the tree, and DH a few feet out from me, we were able to spot that raccoon and get a successful shot that brought it crashing down (sounded like, in the dark, as it bounced off tree branches, it was going to land on my head!) to the ground.  Luckily it was not on my head, but about 6 feet from me.  So that was an exciting evening and night!

I hope this coming week is a little milder with both more catching up on tasks and a bit more time for sitting and relaxing.  And uninterrupted sleep!