I am back from what has to be the world's shortest whirlwind of a camping trip. Just enough time to set up camp, lay on the beach for a couple hours, make dinner, wake up to a torrential downpour, pack up and drive four hours back home again. In short, it was a blast.
Once again, there were ponies:
In fact, the ponies were kind enough to leave us a giant, heaping welcome gift right in the middle of our parking spot (not pictured).
And once again, there was beach:
And once again, there was jumping on the beach! When I told my sister that this year my friends and I had perfected the jumping picture, she groaned. "I am so over jumping pictures," she said.
"I know," I said. "That's why I went with my friends and not you. They love jumping pictures." (Here I may have been unable to stop myself from sticking my tongue out, just a little. Maybe.)
"What's a jumping picture?" my dad asked.
She groaned again. "It's where you take a picture jumping on the beach, but then she wants you to take like fifty more pictures, and it's supposed to look spontaneous, but it's not. It's not spontaneous at all."
And so, in the interest of journalistic integrity, I would like to warn my readers that the following images are the result of careful planning and considerable practice, and are not at all spontaneous. Cry me a river.
First, the warm-ups:
Not quite there...
Jules got in on the action too:
All that jumping had made us hungry, so we headed back to camp,
and went to bed.
And what are the odds that three college friends, currently residing in Seattle, New York state, and mother-flippin' Zambia could all sync their schedules and manage to meet up in Maryland for less than 24 hours of fun and hi-jinx?
I don't know, but I'm so glad we did.
Ladies, I'll see you in summer 2011?