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Tuesday, August 19, 2014


Yesterday Mrs. C and I were DFDers, “Down for the day” at the beach.  When I was a kid with the good fortune to have grandparents who had homes at the shore we called the daily beach invaders “Shoe-boxers” because they tended to bring their lunch with them in a box.

We did in fact bring our lunch with us, but in an insulated zip up bag.  We are lucky in that Mrs. C’s Aunt has a house by the beach.  This gives us a place to park and a place to clean up and change…it also gets us free beach passes. 

Thank you very much Aunt Catherine.

The water was warm (for New Jersey) at 72 degrees, it was so calm and so clear it could have been the Caribbean.  The air was 82 and the humidity low.  It just doesn’t get any better.

We met up with a bunch of aunts, cousins, second cousins and little tiny first cousins once removed.  Mrs. C has a very complicated family; I just try and go with the flow.  There was a Christina, a Christine, and a Christin.  There were three Mikes and a smattering of Joe’s.  I just nod a lot and give out the Jersey greeting “How ya doin?”

I was up early this morning for a dentist appointment.  When we got to the beach the water was so inviting I dove right in.  The sun, the salt water and an early to rise morning had me ready for a beautiful power nap. 

I got in maybe 25 zzz’s when a four year old first cousin once removed decided I needed to see the jelly fish he had collected.  Four year olds apparently have no compunction against punching a sleeping old man and saying,

“Wanna touch my jelly fish?”

The jelly fish was the size and shape of a sausage patty, was clear, and looked to be the consistency of almost dry putty.

“Whah…No!” I answered with just a tiny bit of a cranky attitude.

“What’s your name, I’m Joey.”

Dang, another Joe.  There is a rule; Joe’s have to stick together.

“I’m Joe too.”

“Why don’t you want to touch my jelly fish?”

“I just don’t like jelly fish.”

“Touch it.”

“Not going to happen.”


“Look, I don’t like jelly fish.  Jelly fish and asparagus, I don’t like either.”

“What do you like?”

“Chicken and lima beans.”

“You only like two things?”

Joey’s mom leaned over and whispered that Joey doesn’t take no for an answer and always has the last word.  I said he hasn’t met Cranky yet.

“I don’t care if it is your wish, I do not like your jelly fish, I do not like them in the sand, I do not like them on the land, I do not like them here or there I do not like them anywhere.  I do not like them can’t you see, I do not like them Joey V! (I think he was on the Vacarro side of the family.)”

“It’s not slimy…touch it.”


“Here let me touch it…Hmmm, pretty cool!”

“I told ya.”

Then he let me go back to my nap.

It was a beautiful day at the shore.  The air was warm, the water clear and inviting, and I made a new friend.


  1. I met a tenacious five year old last week. Adorable. Glad he lives somewhere else.

  2. Weird. My kid is Joe V.
    Nice seussism.

  3. Bwahahahahahahaha. Joey is a handful. He's going places.

    Have a terrific day. ☺

  4. I always suspected that one day you'd meet your match. I didn't expect it to be a four year old. Ha!

  5. Stephen took the words out of my mouth, which is pretty unsanitary!!

  6. Cripes, you never once touched my jellyfish .... thankfully

  7. Gotta go with Stephen this time. He nailed what I was thinking also. That was really cute.

  8. He kinda got the best of you, didn't he? :)

    Your 4-year-old first cousin once removed sounds a lot like my 44-year-old Mrs. "No's" aren't well received.


  9. I'm glad you were impressed. The jellyfish is neither jelly, nor a fish...

  10. Four year olds are amazingly persistent. I'm not keen on jellyfish myself.

  11. Haha--sounds like a perfect day at the beach. Well, minus the show-and-tell jellies. The jellies we see in the Gulf of Mexico are the sort that nightmares are made of.


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