After hiking down Beech Mountain on Sunday, it was only noon, and we had sunshine and two kids who weren't done playing, so Sam drove us here, to a spot we'd been kayaking many years ago with my mom, dad, and sister Liesel.
And me? Lying on a dock of a lake in Maine is about the happiest place you could put me.
Sam took over making sure the kids didn't fall into the water, and I got lost in my thoughts and the sunshine and breeze. I rolled over onto my stomach after a while and looked out at this:
Finally, Sam pried me away back to the car, where we changed the kids out of their soaking wet clothes and into fresh fleece pjs. I climbed into the front seat, and the kids were all cozy in their car seats, and I said: "Can I get a family cheer for today?" (It's a thing we do.) And they both said: "GO MANHARTS!" And Sam clicked on the Sox game on AM radio, and I had a happiness seizure.
And that, my friends, is what we call "a fine Maine day."
(and on the way home, the kids talked and talked and talked, until they were so tired that they started screaming and drooling and freaking out and saying things that made no sense and crying, but in my memory of this day, I select that 30 minute period with my mouse and delete it)