OxyMORONs

As described by Websters as: a figure of speech that combines two normally contradictory terms. Kind of like relaxing vacation. Because, really...it's not. Although, like childbirth, the sheer work of it all will fade with time, and the reality will begin to resemble the snapshots. Smooth sailing from the get-go. No traffic.

No "Why aren't we there yet?" No peeing on the side of the road.

The beach will come with no sunburn.

No having to POOP.

No sand in the butt or starvation.

The fishing trips will NOT be scratch and sniff.

No one will be screaming "WHY can't we just go home?!?"

You will never have to jump in the water with your kids to pull the boat off of a sandbar.

The view from the townhouse was spectacular on all three decks.

Never mind the summer kids across the water doing bong hits and drinking 24/7.

(Ha ha, kids...I DARE YOU to EVER ask me to let you live at the beach for the summer. I. DARE. YOU.)

The boardwalk was nostalgic of years past.

No one whined, asked to buy stupid crap, or FLIPPED out because we couldn't watch BEE MOVIE at midnight.

On Assateague we saw the most beautiful horses, and moonrise.

The scars from the 8000 million mosquito bites will fade. Malaria may take a little longer, but it too shall pass.

The smell of the whale carcass in AUGUST in a HEATWAVE won't be nearly as putrid as we remember. Actually, that is crap. NOTHING will EVER smell that bad. Ever. EVER.

I think this is why photos are so important to me. Because all you need is a little time for the annoying stuff to sift through like sand, and you'll end up with the good stuff.

Except the whale smell.