St. Michael's

St. Michael's is located on Maryland's Eastern Shore. The brackish waters of the Chesapeake were just calm enough for our big little guy.

We were very fortunate to have access to an elegant pool.

Thanks to the time change, we were finally able to view fireworks en famille. The St. Michael's show started with ten or so small golden bursts which caused a degree of panic (was THAT it?) But such dribbles might just have been in reference to the town's role in the War of 1812, which is not interesting. 

 Ocean City was terribly hot. But nothing could stop Jane's Skeeball blitzkrieg.

Uncle Kenny managed to catch one blue crab.

Like neurosurgery, a skill best mastered with YouTube.

But back to points of interest off the Capital Beltway. Hugh was allowed thirty minutes at Manassas before we said, enough, ugh, hot, ugh, Stonewall Jackson, ugh.

Horace has one way (not thirteen) to look at a Blackbird: running around it. This, our second visit to the Udvar-Hazy, was much more successful, though again neither child was particularly interested in the Space Shuttle Discovery. George Lucas and his Millennium Falcon are to blame.

Centreville is a newish hotbed for the Korean diaspora. The food court at Lotte wasn't a direct wormhole to Seoul, but it was all business and hermetic, i.e., non-Koreans need not apply.

Does anyone remember when the elephant in the rotunda of the National Museum of Natural History was surrounded by telephone receivers? Anyway, Jane has an avaricious bent, saying she wanted to stay with the gems forever and ever (not referring to the Hope Diamond, which is kind of tacky and dullish in person, but rather some amethyst boulder).