Speaking of coming to terms with things, I think I've finally accepted the fact that we aren't spending the summer on the beaches of Florida. I think. After spending most of yesterday face down on my couch crying, this morning I picked myself up, kicked myself in the butt (which is truly a feat - have you tried it? Definitely worth the effort if you find yourself amidst a pity party of such magnitude), and faced this reality:
Seattle is cold and dismal.
Over the weekend we drove out to the Olympic Peninsula. But first we had to take a ferry across the Puget Sound:
(Pardon me while I kick my own butt.)
Where was I? Olympic Peninsula. Gotcha.
We pilgrimaged to Forks. (I'm inventing words today.) I'm embarrassed to display this picture, but my mother, who claims to love me, beat me to the punch on Facebook.
Naturally we had to visit the beach at La Push. You know what stupid Bella Swan never mentions in those books? How there's like a mile-long hike through the rain forest to get to the beach.
Not that I'm complaining, because this is where we had our first vampire sighting:
And the beach at La Push is spectacular.
I can't forget to mention our banana slug sighting:
I'll be here all week, folks.
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