Focused Freewrite

We've almost finished packing the car. I am so ready to be rid of the sandy grit that has worked its way into all of my clothes, lodged under my toenails, and fount its way into all the food and water. Duffy won't drink any water despite his heavy panting because he seems to be afraid to be distracted from our every move; something in his past tells him that suitcases and packing are very, very bad. Kristin and the girls are slip and sliding over at Thelma and Bob's. Frank is using some sort of weed whacker to cut the tufts of grass that have sprouted up out of the sand. Mom is bouncing from one cleaning need to the next. We have to take this picture before we leave.

The girls come quickly - any chance to pose for a picture is a chance for glamour. Mom has to change, Kristin needs to put a shirt on over her suit, the dogs have to be corralled, the girls can not touch the camera or the notepad I used to prop it just right so that the camera is all set for the timer setting ("I know that's your notepad, please don't touch it right not I'll give it back DON'T TOUCH!"). Ten seconds: I have plenty of time to snuggle in between Grace and Paul. One dog faces the wrong way, the girls hug each other like they love one another, my skin seems overexposed, and the camera is slightly tilted to the right and the view is off center.

It's perfect.