Early in the week, my mom, dad, and brother went down to the beach because Joseph wanted to do some body surfing. Sophie was off doing her own thing, which happened to be thinking of more things to complain about. My brother and I went out into the ocean while my parents looked on, I figured this was a good time to act friendly towards him because he was salty towards me for using his ukulele. While in the water I provided Joseph with several helpful metaphors about waves and how they are like plants (because you have to wait for them to grow), and women (because you have to wait for the right one). Joseph tried making a metaphor. "Waves are like hitchhikers," he said, "they're always trying to get a ride." We shared a brotherly moment as we both knew he was a bit confused on how to make metaphors.
On Tuesday, my dad took my brother and I to go play mini-golf, during which I hit the ball off the course about seven times and had to keep starting over. Joseph was insistent that an asterisk was put next to each score where I restarted to denote such. On the last hole, the one where the ball goes through the pipe to the office place, I bet my dad all the money in his pocket that I could get it in one shot just by throwing it. The reason I thought this was because it was sloped inward so anyone could get a hole-in-one, except for Joseph, whose ball stopped on the lip of the hole. All in all, I was the new owner of sixty cents. That being said, I came in last and my dad won. Walking back home, I was bragging to Joseph who gets frustrated when he doesn't win, Karma, being what it is, got revenge as I once again twisted my ankle for the second time in a week. When I got home I laid down and played on the iPad while the rest of my family "bonded".
Yesterday began as crazy as it ended when my mom insisted that my brother and I go down to the beach with her so that we could sit and read. Something about the burning sun and my sprained ankle made me really just want to go swimming instead, so I made Joseph go with me. Of course, we walked straight into the ocean, but the thing was that the tide was out so the depth stayed the same for about one hundred feet. We were pretty far out and only at the knee-deep water when I saw the first one. I fish leaped clean out of the water about 20 feet to the left of me. "Did you see that?" I asked Joseph. All at once a flurry of fish leaped out of the water near us and Joseph screamed, "RUN!" We made it back to the beach and decided to head over towards the tidal pool which looked noticeably more calm. We waded in and got to the middle where I was about shoulder deep, and Joseph was just trying to keep his head up. Suddenly Joseph looks at me and, calmly at first says, "Help, Jacob, Jacob, oh my God." Then he starts to scream and panic, "A jellyfish stung me! AAH AAH AAH AAH!" I Didn't know what to think so I picked him up out of the water and carried him back to the shore, all the while he continued to scream. Onlookers watched what probably looked like a kidnapping as I tried to get him to walk with me. When I explained the situation suggestions for how to deal with the problem came flying at me. I'm sorry man standing on the beach, but we didn't think to bring vinegar with us today! Back where mom was, Joseph had stopped screaming and we packed up and headed home. "Where was he stung," mom asked me. "The teat," I replied. That made Joseph laugh, but he quickly grew sour as I told everyone that I saved his life.
Yesterday night was interesting to listen to as I lay in bed reading In Cold Blood. All of a sudden I start hearing screaming from the bathroom, "Mom help! Help," Sophie shouts. My mother runs to the bathroom door which is locked. "Open the door," she says. "I'm not dressed, I was taking a shower," Sophie replies. It turns out that as Sophie tried flushing the toilet it became clogged, which scared her half to death. Naturally. "Oh no!" Sophie says. As she tried to flush it again the toilet began to overflow and flood the locked bathroom. Sophie runs out, dressed, and yells about how bad it stinks. We head into town to buy a plunger and my mom has to pay Sophie to clean up the mess because Sophie is adamant about never returning to that bathroom. Eventually, it got cleaned up, but to this day Sophie lives in fear of toilets. In an interview conducted today at lunch, she described it as "stop talking to me."
I finally found a spot with WiFi to post this from, more updates to come, so long from the St. Simon's Island Public Library.
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