Perils of Caffeine in the Evening

Man, every now and then you find a post that makes you weep, and wonder how you ever felt empowered to pick up a keyboard.

Do you ever have these posts that are like intestinal blockages?  And they sit there in your queue and don’t let you post until you finish them?  I had three like that last week.  It’s not fair to characterize something as cool as our SC reunion in those physiological terms, but there it is.  I just couldn’t get all the photos, etc together.

After arriving home last Monday night from SC, I faced a short (4-day), frenetic week in Seattle before spending this last week in Milwaukee.

I tend to lose inspiration when work pervades my consciousness.  I tend to feel that I don’t have permission to post if I have unfulfilled work commitments.  I’m sure those few of you readers who are also clients will wholeheartedly agree.

So, I’m looking forward to a 5-day week in Seattle. Although the week after I’ve been out of town tends to be really hectic, it’s easier to find pockets of repose when I’m on my home earth.

Sunday is supposed to be a houseboat tour on Lake Union with an online kayak group, interspersed with some paddling technique (as opposed to spanking, if your gutter-mind was headed that way).

Hope to be more forthcoming this week.

My brothers and I were spaced, chronologically, such that we had no common friends or interests while we were living together in northwest Ohio. I was the oldest, L. was 4 years younger, and B. was 10 years younger. It took a couple of decades and thousands of miles of geographical migration for us to reacquaint with each other on more than superficial terms, but the last 15 years or so have seen us really enjoy each other as adults fairly comfortable in our skins, to the point where we have 3 permanent annual meetups, plus the occasional serendipitous assignation.

This April retreat to the Litchfield resort on Pawley’s Island, SC is one of the three. It began when my parents started golfing their way down to my brother L.’s place near Charleston in the spring. I’m not clear on how they got started on the Litchfield beach thing, but it culminated in my youngest brother’s wedding on the beach 10 years ago.

April is the perfect time to hit the beach in SC. The weather is often coolish, like high 60s to mid-70s. The locals think it’s too cold to come to the beach, and it’s not yet tourist season. Perfect, in other words, for Seattle people to be able to wear only one layer of high-tech polypro garments to the beach and feel like they’re having a tropical experience.

Our mom joins us in Litchfield, and while the place is rife with memories of our dad, our occasional sadness is overcome by our desire to retain this place and season as a catalyst to celebrate our shared experience. We’ve been joined the past 2 or 3 years by my mom’s sister, who moved to North Myrtle Beach a few years ago.

The generational sibling experience (my bros, and my mom and her younger sister) is interesting. A couple of times, my aunt and my mom resurrected 70-year-old grudges! There was something about staying too long at a movie while my mom was in charge of my aunt, and my aunt tattling something to my grandfather, and my mom getting in trouble. I’m sure the chain of misery didn’t stop there.

There are similar tales of oppression and retribution among the three of us brothers - stuff I’ve either suppressed or outright disbelieve. I was always all about their best interests, you see. This year, we added a generation to the mix, my youngest bro’s step-granddaughter, making us a collection of 4 generations.

Here are some photos, with no particular point in mind (click any photo to enlarge):

Locals, fersure, but neither is my sibling:

Snowy egrets are fairly plentiful:

And we saw an oystercatcher in Murrell’s Inlet when we rented kayaks. I’m pretty sure this guy didn’t catch all of those oyster’s he’s standing on. They recycle oyster shells to restore habitat in the area:

Here’s my youngest bro with one of his stepdaughters, and Mrs. Perils:

I was there, too.

Apparently there was a wrestling match. Apparently, I was losing:

Middle bro L. and his wife:

Kitsch abounds near Myrtle Beach, and apparently there’s no place to hide:

I know I left some people out, but this post has been moldering enough. Besides, I’m pretty sure no one wants to be seated next to the urinal.