We had a great weekend, with highlights including my 73-year-old grandma going into the ocean naked after losing a bet.
We take bets pretty seriously.
There was also a lot of yelling, simply because that side of the family tends to suffer from all-around voice homogulation. Normal conversations were known to be loud enough that the family toddler, Gracie Jo, would cover her ears up in protest. If only we were all so lucky to have the defense mechanism at hand when religion/politics/water quality/food quantity debates arose.
My Mom and I in our 3 square-inch yard at the rental house on Mission Beach. Apparently, Californians are ok with pefect strangers strolling by their homes at all hours of the day and night. (it was worth it, the beach was amazing and we had a blast boogey-boarding)
Michael, Vin, my cousin's husband, and Trey, my brother getting ready to hit the waves. In Vin's case they more-or-less hit him.
Morning breakfast chats.
The whole gang in Jets gear. J-E-T-S Jets! Jets! Jets!
I would have liked to say we triumphantly whooped the cocky Chargers, giving them a swift kick to their bolts, but alas, it didn't happen. However, we still had a great time trash-talking (it is my Dad's side of the family, you know), eating, and people-watching from our quasi-aerial view of the game. And we got to have Inn-n-Out on the way home. We'll keep cheering for Kell, because he is a great guy, and keep our eye out for any Hawaii games...