Beach Day with the girls

Three days of hazardous air quality from the wildfires had kept everyone cooped up, and by the time it finally cleared, the wind turned cold and the beach plan fell apart all over again. So we did what any sensible group would do: we brought the beach indoors. Abby had been so insistent on floating that day that we blew up every floatie we owned right there on the living room floor, sunglasses on, lounging like we hadn't a care in the world.

Lindsey's son Philip, thirteen and mortified, was drafted as official photographer, cringing at how hard we were laughing at our own ingenuity while he tried to get the angle just right. Amber kept shouting "HEY GOOGLE! Play Bob Marley!" only to get the news, or anything but Bob Marley, which sent us into fits of laughter Philip could only roll his eyes at. We held our poses so long waiting for the music and the photo to cooperate that our abs started burning — so naturally we turned it into an impromptu Pilates session on the floor.

It had been about four years since we'd all been together, and even with the weather refusing to cooperate, it turned into one of those perfectly ridiculous, perfectly wonderful days.