....
THE OUTER BANKS of North Carolina
proved to be an altogether satisfactory place to be! I'll just let the photos talk, Viewer Dear (unless, well...unless I can't help myself. Or if I think a photo really doesn't have the knack for telling a tale and slipping in all the details the way it should).
If you see anyone serving up
Middle Sister* wine or a mixed drink, that's my sis. It's her house, and she's the one who pulled out the party lights and got me to help her string them across the ceiling of the deck. She had me help her re-string her wind chimes, too. She's the one who slept in the deck hammock for four nights and let me have her bed. What a sis!
The deck! It was the
place to be at this
place to be!
Though the beach was a pretty sweet spot, as well!
Any photos that seem to show a multi-business, internet-cafe, pottery-painting, earring-making establishment are likely just what they appear to be. And Viewer Dear, if you figure that my friend Judy made a dangly pair of ear jewelry, you figure correctly.
We shopped.
Well, of course, we shopped.
"Our Last Shoplifter," says the sign.
Very happy to inform you, Viewer Dear, the skull is no one you know!
We chatted with the neighbors who traveled here from Georgia and Vermont (renting the house for a week). You probably don't know
them, either.
Does it look as though we're reading? (There are other possibilities; they involve closed eyes and a drooping head.)
Cooley and Rose. That's the book I was reading when I wasn't taking this photo (it would have been silly to try to do both at once). The book was written by the wife of a cousin of mine (It's hot off the press, and believe me, it's a hot read!)
On the beach there was this guy from South C'lina who's been staying at the Buccaneer Motel for months and months (and months) while he works on a major plumbing job. He was fishin' for whatever was bitin' but nothin' was bitin'.
I wish I could say we ate figs! I wish I could say that we stuffed our faces with so much of this fantastic fruit that it nearly made us sick! There were
thousands of tiny figs on those enormous fig bushes that a brother of mine planted there at my sister's house a couple decades ago**, but all of them marble-sized (yep, like I said--tiny). Except for ONE. It reached very early maturity the day we left.
We ate it.
And speaking of eating.
Seafood--every night a different restaurant!
And, Great Sharks a-Swimmin'
, not
one photo of all that good food to show you!
But at least I've got this (sister).
Thank you, thank you, Dear Sis!
*She got it for
me,
as
I'm the middle sister.
(She is older than me
[maybe nicer, too].)
**I told my children their uncle was like Johnny Appleseed, traveling around the country planting fig bushes rather than apple seeds. We called him Ronnie Figbush.***
***Why, oh, why didn't Ronnie Figbush make a visit here where I live?!
Humpf, middle sisters who happen to also be the middle child are always overlooked!****
****It's debatable.
......
