Friday

On our last day Jason and I went out to watch the sunrise.

Some of us took a beach snooze later.

I love this.  We found a sand shark someone had made and signed.  "2020 Bites."

Caleb's timing on this thumbs-up was impeccable.

These were really neat cement blocks, only visible at low tide.  Which means if you played in this spot at high tide, the waves would smash your head into them before you know it.  At low tide you merely run the risk of getting knocked off of one slimy block into the barnacle-encrusted next one when a rogue wave comes in after you've been tempted out to the next-farthest block.  There is, of course, no warning posted whatsoever regarding the likelihood of death by blunt-force head trauma at high tide.  There is only a sign 200 feet away that says something about water-borne illness if you swim right there.  Jason says the blocks are holding down a drainage pipe that feeds stormwater runoff directly into the Atlantic Ocean. 


Is this America or some sort of maritime wild west?  And our local playground can't have a merry-go-round?


Anyhoo, Caleb discovered that there was another cement block buried under the sand, so he and Wyatt were kept busy for a good long while exhuming it with plastic shovels.


Below, Caleb acts as foreman.

Whiskers continuously charmed us (at least those of us who weren’t getting up in the night with him) all week.  I’d like to post this one to his LinkedIn profile.