Glenelg and other palindromes

Upon arrival we spent a few days at Glenelg beach trying to recover from jet lag.  Six year olds respond to jet lag in a different way than most adults.  I tried to trick my body into believing it had energy by consuming six cappucinos in rapid succession, which tricked my body into believing that I could fly.  I then immediately sat down on the couch and nursed my caffeine hangover while my daughters tortured each other (which is how they respond to jet lag and pretty much everything).  The CIA should really subcontract with my daughters for interrogation purposes.  After an hour of listening to them argue, I would have told anyone anything.

The upside is that I could look outside and fantasize about how quiet drowning would be.

On the second morning, we woke up at four in the morning to the sound of howling wind and rattling windows.  Upon further investigation, it was not Tessa (as we assumed) but a massive storm front.  By the time we reached the front room, a tidal pool was forming in front of the sliding glass doors and HAIL was pelting the windows.  It's like Maine followed us here, in a warm and fuzzy Stephen King kind of a way.









Tessa was incredibly helpful, gathering towels, throwing them on the water, and giving her best Riverdance impression.  The irony here, of course, is that Tessa is usually the primary cause of such disasters.