|"Oi mate, let's play some footy. It'll be fun as, bot!"|
My stomach muscles have now adjusted to the Herculean strength necessary for steering the grocery carts without careening into the aisles. When people ask me "How ya going?" I know to answer them with a 'fine' instead of having an inner debate about what the hell that means (by car? by foot? ummm...). When friends tell me they'll see me this arvo (pronounced ah-vo) I know I'll see them in the afternoon, not at the Salvos (the local thrift store). I can even tell by the squawk whether it's a galah or a sulphur-crested cockatoo flying overhead.
We know that an outing at low tide means always keeping an eye out for sea urchin skeletons--there's nothing quite as appealing to me as the orderly, nubby rows on those round gifts from the sea.
We know that a calm sea makes it easier to catch the spout of water from a whale; the tail usually follows a few seconds later. Early evening is a great time to spot squid, and dozens of hermit crabs make great playmates at Little Beach. The best coffee is found at Lee & Me, Swell, or His Boy Elroy (where the cocktails look incredible--mental note to test my hypothesis in the very near future).
Just when I have this all figured out, we're putting our car on the market, starting to clean out closets, and our goodbye party is on the calendar. My light posting here is a function of still not having an adequate camera (I think Hurricane Sandy must have slowed the shipping out of Long Island) and the fact that we are spending much of our non-school hours at the beach. North Beach, Little Beach, City Beach, tidepools, continental pools, rock pool...soaking it all in, literally.
I love Denver. But part of my family's hearts will always remain in Australia for sure.