Dad and I snuck away for a quick geocaching run and as we were looking for the last cache, my Mom called to tell us she was putting the food out and that we needed to get back.
They had everything out and ready to eat when we got back so we walked in and Dad said the blessing.
Sadly, I didn't hear a word he said because when I bowed my head I saw a tick crawling around on my shirt. I REALLY hate ticks but I held it together until he finished the blessing and then I went flying out the front door.
When I came back inside my Dad said, “I saw a sign at that last cache that said something about watching for ticks.” Well, there you go. I've never seen a deer crossing at a deer crossing sign but I have now found ticks at a Beware the Ticks sign.
My Dad set up a target range between the pilings from the old dock and the kids – and the grownups - had fun shooting out into the Sound.
I wanted a picture of the boys aiming their guns but even with the men on the deck watching over them I must have said “Fingers off the trigger” a million times while I was taking this.
And it wouldn't be a holiday without blowing something up.
My cousin, the Pie Lady, said she'd been looking for a ceramic bunny or something for us to blow up but hadn't been able to find anything so we decided to blow up eggs.
My BIL is from parts North and even after all of these years he still seems a little surprised by us.
He did his best Jeff Foxworthy impression, saying, “You know you're a redneck if you blow up Easter eggs instead of hiding them.”
For the record – we did hide eggs for the kids earlier but once they found the all of the ones with money in them they lost interest.
Eggs + M80s = a pretty cool little explosion.
I love holidays.