Letters to Holly

Friday, August 14

Back Home

But first, Thursday.

I started my 37th birthday sore as hell from the surf class. I ran for at least 3 miles on the beach, this time with shoes. The refreshingly flat terrain should have made the run far easier than my usual route, but the varying stability didn't help. Still, I ran farther than I did when I was a mere 36. Take THAT, Gregory 36!

The overcast day encouraged us to hit the ocean for longer than before. Mom slept under the pier (which makes her sound like a hobo) where we had relaxed during the entire week in the sand. We found a Barnes & Noble, and Your Sis swiped my books before I could pay for them. I cursed her scaly hide.

We drove an hour away for the kayak tour. Mom was freaked, but she found it fun and relaxing when she accepted the fact there were no rapids. It was a nice tour, similar to our Outer Banks kayak trip last year. Oddly enough, it also took place on my birthday. A late Cracker barrel dinner led to ice cream, and I had birthday-cake flavor.

We lit out at 9 this morning and dropped Mom off a little after 1. We got home around 3, and we're already unpacked and laundered. Tonight: beer, wings, and rasslin.

I'll post trip pics on Facebook later this weekend. Promise.

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