Did someone say Vacation?

I actually thought once we left for Maine life would slow down. I'd have time to take photos, pick strawberries, and blog. What is it they say about the best laid plans?

Since arriving, I have picked up my husband from the airport, driven to Canada, done a whirlwind tour of Quebec City, visited Baie St. Paul where it rained non-stop, drove back to my parent's golf course, helped them put on a golf tournament, steamed and served fifty pounds of hot dogs at the tournament, hiked a mountain, watched an hours worth of illegal fire works, baked eighty thousand cookies and brownies for the golf course pro shop, swept up thousand of dead bugs at a cabin in the woods, decorated a golf cart as a clown cart and made up my children and father as clowns to parade around for Independence Day, had a lobster feed, saw four moose, made crepes (salmon and goat cheese, and then chicken florentine) and a pound cake for a dinner party, had friends from high school and their spouses and children to lunch for the crepes and strawberry shortcake on homemade pound cake, and drove my husband back to the airport, kissed him and sent him back to work.

Now, I have a head cold and two children who have decided to compete in Olympic sibling bickering. I might have taken a few photos, but I am too tired to find the camera and see what might be there. Will be back once I can put together a cohesive thought.