Shore House

We spent the weekend at Kenny's family's shore house somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere, MD. We saw an average of 4 deer each time we ventured from the house (the house is aptly named Deerfields) We never saw the snake that supposedly lives under the dock stairs though.
I actually didn't get any more sunburned, unbelievably, even though we spent a lot of time on the boat. And we went to the Cecilton Volunteer Fire Department Carnival, and ate funnel cakes and Kenny and I entered raffles to win a sailboat and a wooden chest full of booze, respectively. Kenny won me a stuffed dog, even though Ferd had fronted the money for us all to play (I guess he should have done the honorable thing and sprayed the other little kids playing in the eyes with his water gun so Ferd could win) And then we promptly left, because even the "Wacky Shack" didn't appear safe enough to actually attempt to enter.

We also watched a bunch of Kenny's home movies as our VHS choices were limited, including the classic, my personal favorite, Christmas 1988, with such renowned clips as the off-screen crash of the new battleship: "...The batteries fell out," Kenny's dinosaur converse, and Kenny's brother throwing the soccer ball into the goal while lying in the red wagon.

And I ate some crab bisque and wasn't happy.