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Ohana.

Suffice to say, I have done an awful job of updating this summer. Been all sorts of distracted — but mostly in the best sorts of ways. Long, drawn out lunches with the girls, jibber-jabbering with the smallest Bird, lazy mornings watching the first sunbeams sneak into the room and choosing to stay both in pajamas and under the ceiling fan. That sort of thing.

But, oh! Hawaii. Four thousand miles and a rather uneventful plane trip under their collective belt, the Langes took one epic family vacation this past month in order to celebrate Papa and Gramma’s 30th wedding anniversary and Papa’s 50th birthday. Here are just a few peeks into our adventures.

Going…going…gone. Carter’s first plane trip. He’s such a busy boy, he rarely cuddles these days. My arms were so full and happy with my sleeping boy.

Patrick and my dad after swimming with sharks. (!!!!!!what).

Not a bad view to wake up to.

My whole heart.

Landry was hysterical the whole trip. Such a trooper, and she started crawling to boot.

❤ Patio Eats

 

30 Years. Where has the time gone?

Best friend.

Megan and Patrick and a Sean Patrick bump.

My longest best friend. Carter’s longest best friend.

Mang-an

Beauties.

That face.

There’s a group of Langes under that waterfall.

Grandma’s girl.

On the train at the Dole Plantation.

Peach checking out pineapples.

Lange kids and their kids.

New mama

Carter and his ‘Patch’

 Mike Lange catching a wave.

Miley telling off a peacock

I hope a look that good when I’m 50. Whatever, Dad.

My baby brother.

Polynesian Cultural Center

Our sweet tatts.

Patrick and Meg after he led our tribe into the chief’s hut.

My ham.

I made the cutest french fry eater.

D’aww.

Ready for the flight home!

 

 

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Hello, Summer.

Hello, old friend — bringer of warm gulps of hose water and poorly executed games of sand volleyball. Greetings, wine for dinner on the patio, grimy flipflops, and seatbelt buckle burns. What’s up, itchy Bermuda grass and warm, coyote-friendly nighttimes?

One day, without a word said to anyone, you showed up ready for a fight. You coulda warned us you were coming with such a vengeance. You mighta mentioned you were feeling extra surly. Suddenly, the sidewalk scalds my bare feet and a tank top is suffocating. Now you’re here, and you won’t stop talking about what so-and-so’s doing for vacation and bragging about the wildfires you started and making people dye their hair blonde. Not to mention you stink like chlorine and hotdogs.

But, oh, we do so love you. It’s been a busy kickoff to summer. We’ve been walking often in the evenings, hitting up the parks, seeking shade in Targets and yoga studios and movie theaters, and drowning in iced tea when the day is too hot to look a plate of food in the eye.

Summer, you bring celebrations and birthdays, fireworks and parades. For us teachers, you begin with the end: graduation. Every bottom-of-May for the past five years (and probably much longer, but that’s as long as I’ve been in on it), my friend Kelly goes on (and on, on, on) about how (insert expletive gerund, because that’s how she rolls) fabulous graduation is. It’s her favorite day. Even though her optimism is catchy and I’m excited for the students, I have to admit I could take or leave the pomp and circumstance. But I do like hanging out with friends  and celebrating another year biting the dust. And I like pancakes, and there’s usually some of those, too.

I have high hopes for this summer to be busy and adventurous and peaceful and restorative. I’m looking forward to lots more of the view seen above, and far less of this one, though I will be teaching summer school this year. Now that I’ve caught up with Game of Thrones, I’ll be needing suggestions to fill my before-bed time. There’s only so many iPhone word games a lady should play.

The most calming part of summer is that time slows down just enough that it’s easier to see life in snapshots — still frames captured in my mind, first behind my eyelids and then buried deeper, awaiting a quiet moment. I know one when I see it. Don’t move! I need to remember this, just like this.

And so Summer, come on in. Fill up the next weeks with your indulgences, namely popsicle-eating, night-owling, pleasure-reading, and beach-combing. Bring on your relay of record-breaking heats and monsoons. Squeeze us tighter with every breath. And take your time.

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Beached.

Bird’s first trip to the beach wasn’t quite a success. In fact, I think all of us (my parents, sister, niece, Carter, and I) were left needing a vacation from vacation. Carter wasn’t a big fan of the sun and the sand this first time around, and he definitely wasn’t a fan of the hotel room. He wanted to be back in his own bed — so much like his mama.

Still, it had been too long since I’d experienced that flood of emotions that comes with standing in front of the ocean. Cliché as it is, there’s no denying that cup-runneth-over sensation. Ankle deep in saltwater, holding the small person who just this time last year was beginning to give me belly thumps from the inside out, I let gravity pull my heels into the sand.