Beach Treasures

Mo' money, mo' money. If sand dollars were actual currency, we'd have $22.
But my favorite beach treasures are the miniature hermit crabs. Who says bigger is better?



And my dad? Well, he's still out there catching treasures...


And tomorrow it's back to reality...

In the name of Vacation...

Bea is bored. Capital B-O-R-E-D. I don't think we will be bringing her back until she has learned how to swim, is tall enough to stand in 2 feet of water, is old enough to understand that sand is not her enemy, and has learned to go without TV for more than a day at a time. I have learned, however, that my child is intuitive enough to work an iPad. Or else the iPad is intuitive enough for a 21 month old to use. However you want to look at it is fine... Either way, she is addicted. She has been furiously slicing fruit, popping bubbles, and talking to Tom the Talking Cat. She still refuses to let her feet touch the sand.

Yesterday I hid the DVD player, insisted that my mom and sister put away the iPads, and tried to force Bea outside. Yeah, we were all pretty much miserable. By 10 a.m. the iPads were back. By 4 p.m. my mother was begging for the DVD player. And her feet never touched sand. "But it's vacation... Let her do it."

She is also filled to the brim with candy and other sugary treats, like soda. And we wonder why she can't sit still. But, then again, it is vacation.

Don't Bust a Nut...

What do the Lamb family, a tire iron, and a bunch of old coconuts have in common?

Remember to KEE LEF

I used to think that our cousins the Brits were the only ones who drove on the "wrong" side of the road. But three years ago I realized that the UK wasn't the only island nation to do so. Japan also drives on the left, which is completely understandable since they read backwards as well. ;-) But now I can add the Bahamas to that illustrious list of left-hand-right road warriors. Ali, we could seriously use your skills anytime we go out. (And you wouldn't even have to worry about getting pulled over for a burned-out tail light. I don't think anyone here cares.) Zach is the only one brave enough to drive the predator van, and my mother occasionally yells from the 4th row backseat, "You're on the wrong side of the road, hon!" when he occasionally drifts right. Who needs a sign when you have Ella?

Check out our sweet ride. --->

Imagine cruzin' the island in that beaut. Just so you can get the full mental picture, this is what you would look like from behind, wind in your hair (because there is no A/C) and interior ceiling fabric flapping in the cool island breeze:


Or perhaps you prefer the backseat:


Or, if you visit one of the outlying cays, cars are passe. Instead, here is what you get:


Even Bea was itching to drive it. Although we need to teach her to keep her eyes on the road.

Bahama Mama Day One (and Day Two...)

6 months of planning. 1 week of packing. 4 a.m. alarm. 7 hour trip. 1 gate at the Bahamas airport. 2 immigration officers. 1 circa 1990 Dodge van.

And we are here...

I almost thought we wouldn't make it. Our rented van looked like we could have outright bought it for what we paid to rent it for the week. We thought we might find a few day laborers taking a siesta inside the van, which is apparently held together with (literally) duct tape and thumb tacks. I guess vehicles are hard to come by on Abaco Island. Correction: running vehicles. The good news is, if our van breaks down, there are about a dozen abandoned cars and trucks littering the 20-mile stretch of wilderness between here and the Marsh Harbor airport that we could scavenge for parts.

But when I really thought we were in trouble was when I saw this:

Instead of a GPS, or hell, even Mapquest directions to our villa, Mandy had a compass and a road-less map of the island printed off the internet. A compass. The original GPS. GPS 1.0.

But we made it.

And it was raining.

Now, rain was a welcome sight for our sore, drought-plagued Texas eyes. But perhaps the faction of our party that just experienced flooding in Tennessee would argue otherwise. The sound of rain on the rooftop and the ocean lapping on the beach just outside our window made for a restful night's sleep. And in the morning we were welcomed by a rainbow!

The house itself wasn't quite what we expected. But then again, when has a rental house ever really been exactly as advertised? The back story behind this trip, for those of you who don't know, is that Zach bid on and won this trip at a charity auction for Hand in Paw. We were told that this house "rents for $8,000 a week." I think the truth behind that statement is more like this: someone, somewhere, at a charity auction got MORE drunk than Zach and bid $8,000 on a trip. I hope that man (and we know it HAD to be a man) lived the beating his wife gave him and actually got to come and enjoy his little slice of paradise. The house is lovely and clean. The towels match and look somewhat new. The kitchen is amply stocked with pots, pans, cooking utensils, dishes, and glasses- only some of which look cast-off like you would expect to find in a rental beach house. The view is spectacular! But admittedly $8,000 is a stretch!

Speaking of what things cost, milk is $8 a gallon. Yes, this was a shock for us Texans who are used to complaining that milk is $2.49 a gallon at Target, up from last year's sales of $0.99 a gallon. My brother, however, who lives on an island, would not find this unusual. Anyone want to take a guess at what a Dairy Queen ice cream cake cost at the local grocery store? If you guessed $59.00, you were right.

This morning the rain broke long enough to enjoy a little time on the beach, taking a walk and talking to the neighbors. We waded out to a sandbar and found a gigantic starfish. Bea found the first sand dollar. There are conch shells galore. Grampy set up his salt water fly rod, and Grammy (predictably) did laundry. Here are a few photos: