July 9, 2011
The Myrtle Beach portion of our vacation started off with a bang. There's rarely a dull moment when you're chillin' with the Hoffman Clan, but you don't necessarily expect to hear such fun comments as:
*"I can't get the door open. Wait, now it won't close. Now it won't open. Hey, now we're stuck in here."
*"If there's a fire, just throw a chair through the window."
*"Where are the rest of the chairs? Oh, they're piled in the corner, broken."
*"People are going to see Jim's hairy butt through those broken blinds."
*"Why are those wires sticking out of the wall like that?"
*"I'll be a grown-up for Cora to make sure she doesn't chew on them. We don't want her to get electrocuted."
*"I'm scared of being murdered downstairs."
My favorite, however, came from Chris: "When the health inspector comes, if he says it's stachybotrys . . . . I'm out of here."
Since there were enough people fretting about the situation already, the girls and I did our best to keep Grandma calm. We tried to stay out of the way and enjoy the one good thing about the house-- the view from the back porch. After three hours of near-panic attacks, meltdowns, and negotiations (go Paul!) with Elliott Realty, we had a refreshing re-start to vacation at our new home for the week: The SandLapper.
Chris took charge of ordering up some pizzas to feed the hungry crowd. I listened to the waves and stared out the window (from my bed!) while all the kids jumped around me. Colleen and Sarah passed out the T-shirts and shell-collecting bags, and the kids decorated their buckets. Lorra and her family arrived with Troy, and then we all hit the beach.
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