Beach babies

Well, we are back from our beach adventure and I think we have finally rinsed the last bit of sand off of our flip-flops.

I love this annual trip, which involves Grandpa and Grandma, aunts, uncles and lots and lots of cousins. And food. Really -- just piles of food.

My sister was a little frustrated because her recent Graduation Week mishap meant that she couldn't go into the water. On the up side, it also meant that she was excused from most chores that involved using both hands. She didn't milk this nearly as much as I would have.

The urchins were very excited when they were introduced to a board game that is all the rage at the cousins' house. Let me be very clear -- this game is a winner. When the forty-something uncles and aunts and the too-cool-for-school high school graduates and the teens and the 'tweens all l-o-v-e the same board game, something very special -- not to say freakish -- is going on.

This one loved the game so much that she woke me up at midnight to ask me if I would come join the game. Do you understand the significance of this, people? She woke me up at midnight.

tangent: Formerly referred to as "the oldest girl," this one has been declared "the one in charge." If you knew how organized, forward-thinking, and logical she is you would understand why my dad calls her "the girl with the clipboard." Apparently in the Army, if you come upon a scene and don't know exactly where you should report or what task you should be performing, you always check in with whoever has the clipboard -- because this is the person who will always know where you should go and what you should be doing. Well -- in our family, that's this girl. When (not if) she takes over the world, everything is going to be much better.

Check out the rogues' gallery of cousins:

My tall boy . . .

. . . my sister's tall boy . . .

. . . and a couple of boys who are not quite so tall yet.

Watch out for this one: he's tricky. (Quick! What movie is that from?!)

As the father of two daughters and no sons, my dad has always had a soft spot for girls. The only thing he loves as much as granddaughters is grandsons. Here he is with my sister's oldest girl.

The sunny girl was all about the boogie board . . .

. . . while the girl in charge and my youngest niece spent much of their beach time digging. Digging with no goal in mind -- just . . . digging. It's very zen, don't you think?

We were missing my sister's other tall boy, who spent the week at Boys' State. I am proud to report that he was elected Commonwealth Attorney; in other states he would be called a District Attorney, but whatever you call him his legal career looms brightly.

And Grandpa and his oldest grandchild talked Army stuff, since the grandson -- my sister's fabulous tall boy -- is soon to be a West Point cadet. Grandpa's not too proud.

Next up: Margaritaville medical practice. Sounds like a new series on the USA network, doesn't it?!

Camera shy -- or shy one camera?

OK, so here we are in lovely Nag's Head, North Carolina. And there have been so many wonderful aspects to our vacation: the family fellowship; the beautiful shoreline; the goofball capers of a collection of cousins -- and I captures all of it with my trusty glamour camera. But I left the crucial camera cable connector thingie at home . You know -- the one that allows me to magically share my pictures with you?

I'm a little frustrated.

So until I can share all the details with you, let me just report that a highlight of our adventure has been daily excursions to Sonic, for "two-for-one drinks Happy Hour." Small pleasures, people -- we don't have access to Sonic at home. And I do love a lemon-berry-lime slush!

London, London, London!

Everybody loves to go to Westminster Abbey -- and we were no exception. I deeply and sincerely love Westminster Abbey -- we spent hours there, and I could have stayed longer. The tombs of kings and queens, Poets' Corner, the graves of the Unknown Warrior and Winston Churchill -- all in one place; it was fabulous. Although I wanted to tell the people weeping at the statue of Shakespeare, "You know he's not really buried there, right? And, by the way, get over yourself." But that would have been mean. Now, Chaucer -- there's a guy you can weep for!

The Coronation Chair was exciting to see (it's covered with choir boy graffiti from the 1700s, by the way). Built in 1301, it's the "oldest chair in continuous use as a chair" in the United Kingdom. I guess all the other old chairs are being used as hats. Note the distinct lack of the Stone of Scone.

The Abbey cloister was stunning. Just look! I'm a sucker for a beautiful cloister.

OK, so the Royal Observatory at Greenwich is just the most fantastic place -- we stood on the Prime Meridian. I mean, THE Prime Meridian! How cool is that!?

If you've read the book, Longitude, by Dava Sorbel (or seen the movie) you'll know how exciting it was that we saw the four clocks designed by John Harrison; the H4 longitude clock allowed sailors to actually know where the hell they were at sea -- in relationship to deadly underwater rocks, for example. Cool tangent: In Westminster Abbey you can see a memorial plaque for Harrison; a line runs through it marked with the exact longitude of the stone: 000º 7’ 35” W.

Also at the Royal Observatory is this spot where you can come and check the accuracy of your yardsticks and rulers. I am not certain that many British citizens take advantage of this service any more . . . .

And I broke up with the Sutton Hoo helmet when I saw him at the Tower of London -- I love a man in uniform. My husband and his wife are slight problems, as is the fact that I live here, he lives there -- and the minor detail that I've never actually met him. Other than that our relationship is perfect!

Crown jewels! Look! Queen Victoria had this tiny crown made because 1) she refused to give up her mourning veil, and needed a crown that would accommodate it; 2) the big ones hurt her head; and 3) why are you questioning her decision? -- she was the Queen, damn it!

The Coronation Spoon -- used to eat the Coronation Ice Cream (my source for this information: my friend, Coleen). This spoon is from 1301 -- for real. AND it and two swords are the only pieces of Coronation Regalia to escape the clutches of that rat, Oliver Cromwell. I really hate Oliver Cromwell.

OK, OK -- it's not for ice cream. It's for trifle. Oh, all right! It's for the Oil of Anointing. Boring!

So -- this is my last London picture -- but oh have mercy, people! This is a Roman wall that runs right through the Tower of London! I get the vapors just thinking about it. This sums up everything I love about Great Britain: history piled on history piled on more history.

tangent: This two thousand-year-old Roman wall pops up all over the City of London (now the heart of the financial district -- kind of corresponding to our Wall Street). At one place they built a skyscraper around it -- the Roman wall just runs right through the lobby of the building. Did I mention that it's Roman? As in Romans built it? In Roman times? How fantastic is that?

British Museum and London Image credits:
Poets Corner, Coronation Throne:
courtesy of Westminster Abbey gift shop postcards
Royal Observatory at Night, H4 Longitude Watch:
courtesy of Observatory gift shop postcards
Queen Victoria Crown, Coronation Spoon:
courtesy of Tower of London gift shop postcards
All other images taken on our iPhones. No kidding!

Is anything in the British Museum actually British?

People -- ! We saw the Elgin Marbles! OK, so now they're called the Parthenon Marbles, but please . . . . we all know: "Finders -- keepers, losers -- Greek museums." I just read this article in Vanity Fair about how the Greeks are all, "dudes -- you stole our priceless heritage, and we want it back." And the Brits are all, "Sucks for you!" I paraphrase.

But whatever -- I got to see them and I'm so glad -- because I really do have a sneaking suspicion that the Greeks will win this fight eventually (the document signed by the big cheese of the Ottoman Empire holds less and less water as the years go by) -- and I don't have a realistic chance in hell of getting to Athens any time soon.

I mean, good grief -- they took an entire temple! Just boxed it up and took it home, because after all, the Greeks weren't using it any more. The logical flaw here, of course, is that I have never read anywhere that Lord Elgin worshiped the Olympian gods either. What the heck did he need a stinkin' temple for?!? Gosh, it's pretty, though!

I haven't decided yet whether I want to marry this woman or be this woman. Either way, my prospects don't look good.

In another part of the British Museum, we saw so many mummies that I'm a little over them. This is particularly ironic for those of you who know my youngest girl, and how obsessed she is with all things anciently Egyptian -- especially mummies!

My husband and I set out to methodically photograph the entire mummy room for our girl, since we both knew what it would mean to her. And we took just a whole lot of pictures. But -- oh my God, these people stole all the mummies, too! There were so many sarcophagi that it actually got a little mundane.

tangent: Meanwhile my poor girl asks to go to the Smithsonian once a year on her birthday so she can gaze lovingly at the one measly mummy housed in the Museum of Natural History. [Please, no comments about my nerdy children; I choose to think of them as adorably quirky . . . .] AND she has to suffer through the lamest "Gilgamesh" display ever to get to our poor sad mummy.

I always love to see displays of jars that held the organs of dead people, especially when they have been extracted through the nose (information provided, of course, by my youngest girl).

This painting was "rescued" from Pompeii. What was it rescued from? Italians, I guess. I love these faces -- they look so much like people I know.

Entirely carved of jade. The Boxer Rebellion guaranteed that this bad boy would become a British citizen.

I don't understand this at all, but I love it.

I could have looked at this for hours, but a) I don't get it, and b) Elgin Marbles!

To be honest, by the end of the day I was staggering with fatigue and museum-glut -- you know that feeling that you are just overwhelmed by too much information? Really, I almost cried when I saw that there was a "Medieval Britain" section of the museum. I studied this crap all through college and grad school; I love it. I mean, I really love it. And if I had been required to gaze upon another tapestry or piece of blown glass, I think I would have smashed a case and grabbed an iconic piece of Bronze Age bronze to poke my eyes out with.

But then I saw him! My new boyfriend -- the Sutton Hoo helmet! (Don't tell Barack Obama!) He's a hunk of manly Anglo-Saxon man, born and buried in England (shocking, I know). He's dreamy -- AND he looks like Darth Vader wearing Ray-Bans. I'm in love.

Salisbury and Stonehenge

We went to Stonehenge on our way to the great cathedral town of Salisbury. My husband was thrilled to see the famous standing stones -- as you can tell from the ecstatic look on his face. Not kidding, really -- that's a look of sheer glee he's wearing.

tangent: The last time I was at Stonehenge, we were forbidden to walk on the grass because the British were concerned that we would carry foot and mouth disease on our shoes. So, you know that Stonehenge is really just a big pile of rocks in the middle of a grassy field right? You figure out how limiting that was. I'll wait.

Salisbury Cathedral is one of the great sites in England – it is a true Gothic cathedral, with a spire that is the highest in the United Kingdom (I took this picture from the spire, which we were able to tour). I love this spire story: The Nazi bombers who flew over England during the Blitz had strict instructions not to destroy the Salisbury Cathedral spire – not for any altruistic love of beauty, but because the pilots used it to get their bearings as they headed toward their London bombing missions.

Check out this groovy new baptismal font – dedicated last year by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Its water continually pours out of the four corners of the font, while the surface is smooth enough that it serves as a mirror, reflecting the beautiful stained glass window at the far end of the nave.

Our guide called this a misericorde, but what I call it is a butt-rest. The priests of the cathedral, who stood throughout the long Masses, used these little ledges (excactly butt-height -- how convenient!) to sneak in a little relief for their legs.

These banners were the coolest thing: so, this regiment that has an association with the town of Salisbury donated each of these flags after the unit was consolidated with another after World War II. The flag in the front (they're called "colours," not flags, by the way) is so sheer that it looks like netting. This is because it was washed away while the regiment was crossing a bridge over the Ganges River during a monsoon in 1842. They recovered the flag -- seven months later! And this is what it looked like. Even though it looks so tattered, it is still given all the respect due to the colours of the regiment.

The spire holds bells that ring a Westminster chime on the quarter-hour, then this big thing rings the hours. This bell dates from 1230, and was one of few to escape the clutches of the evil Oliver Cromwell and his greedy henchmen during the Civil War (boo, hiss -- hate Oliver Cromwell!).

Next stop: London!