It rained today. The rain was of such intensity and duration that even I, the reluctant shopper, headed to the outlet mall with the rest of the vacationing hordes.The kids stayed back at the house, crafting with my mom, reading, and playing video games.
By dinnertime, the kids were antsy from being cooped up. I was antsy from having spent the winter in New England. The rain had stopped, so the three of us headed to the beach after dinner. They hoped to fly kites, and I hoped the clouds would lift so I could photograph a beautiful sunset.
We all struck out. The wind was spotty, and the kids gave up on the kites. It started drizzling, so I hid my camera beneath my sweatshirt. We trudged up to the house to return our gear.
Although it was raining, none of us wanted to go back inside. My son suggested a game of Frisbee, which seemed as good an idea as any. We returned the kites and camera, I picked up my floppy hat (good for sun and rain!), and he grabbed the Frisbee.
What transpired may have been the worst exhibition of Frisbee skills the world has ever seen. Our "game of Frisbee" was hurling a disc wildly into the air so that another person could make a show of running for it while it whizzed twenty feet away from him before he walked to pick it up off the ground and repeat the process. My daughter appeared to both throw and catch with her eyes closed, and I don't think she was noticeably worse than either of the rest of us. It was horrid and, inexplicably, a great deal of fun.
When dusk and my daughter's bedtime arrived, we each made one last, desperate, poor throw before returning to the house. My son looked at me and said, "That was really fun, wasn't it? Didn't you have fun?"
Yes. Absolutely. Standing in a drizzle and chasing a poorly thrown Frisbee. But doing so on sand, wearing shorts, while laughing with two of my favorite people. The weather was poor, but life is good.