Handfull

Ahhh, summer. Pinot grigio consumption is measured in gallons, nobody can remember the last time my four and two year old daughters wore an actual article of clothing, and Team HHG jets across country for our annual pilgrimage to coastal New England.
This year necessity, that old mother of invention, dictated our baggage-fee-friendly East Coast quiver (quivah):
Fish, pintail, winged pin.
Know what feels good? Stroking into your first wave in the Atlantic for a year, stretching the body out full, and washing away fourteen hours of travel and midair diaper anxieties.
Also, littleneck clams.
Know what feels bad? When you get back from the beach, and you struggle to close your door, but it won't go all the way because it's swollen in the New England humidity, then your sister yells, 'close the damn door, I can see your manparts!" even though the door is only cracked the tiniest of slivers.
Also, bugs.
Back to Califonia on Tuesday!