P is for Power Kites

Enough people don't fly kites anymore. It's a lost art that truly can make you happy.

When we lived on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, Laura became obsessed with Power Kites after learning how to Kiteboard. Meanwhile, I was frustrated, and angry, and cranky. The kite had picked me up, and shoved me face first under the water. It hurt, I was coughing and snotting up water, and getting stung by jelly-fish. I was not impressed.

But, because Laura liked to fly her kite at Jockey's Ridge State Park, Baxter and I joined her.

Yea....she was yelling,
"Baxter, I'm gonna kick you in the face!"

I thought Baxter was bad with other animals. Put a Power Kite in front of him and he'll run until he gives himself heat exhaustion and gets sick. He'll be puking, and still trying to chase the kite. (Not exaggerating.) He'll run into YOU if you're not looking where he's at. He will run at the kite and put holes in it.

He is so crazy about Power Kites, that for his 5th birthday, I bought him his own $500 kite just so Laura wouldn't kick him in the face like she'd threatened to.

Since moving to Maine, I haven't found a good place to fly, but you better believe, every time it gets windy, both Baxter and I are itching to get out there.