Owwieday

Rainy and cold here in Rocky Point, which has led (indirectly) to some unfortunate owwies. First, while I was hanging up my raincoat this morning in a closet Elizabeth, coming to investigate, tripped over my shoe and cracked her forehead against the door jamb. It sounded like a firecracker going off. Later, we were playing in the construction zone in the back yard (Frankie is paving a walkway) and while "jumping" from paver to paver, Elizabeth slipped on sand and slammed the back of her head against the concrete paving block. Ouch! Her eyes rolled up into her head and she was silent for a very scary moment before the wailing started.

Later we got in the car for a trip to Port Jeff and she passed out almost instantly. I kept poking her to make sure she was just sleeping and not in a coma.

After a brief time at home, we went out with Grandpa to a bevereage store to get a growler filled with local brew (Bluepoint Ryestafarian -- pretty good; very bold for a Long Island micro; "over the top," as desribed [correctly] by the salesman). We also picked up a sixpack of Sierra Nevada Torpedo (a taste of the West Coast -- ahhh!) and something called Porkslap Pale Ale from some town upstate that I've never heard of. It's OK, especially for beer from a can.



In any event, the beer has proven a godsend today given all of the shouting amongst the Braccos. They like to shout. Long ago I accepted the fact that they enjoy this form of communication, which, to my upstate sensitivities, sounds like hostility. It's not. It's love. But it sounds weird.