Day Nine Redux: Ye Olde St Augustine

I didn't update this blog yesterday because I was having such a splendid time visiting and catching up with Lauren The Estimable Novelist and Her Adorable Brobdignagian Toddler, Beck that I did not have time. So here is the belated update. We stayed in a beach house owned by Lauren's in-laws, who kindly let us crash there for one night. The house has a name - Solstice - which means either (1) that Lauren's in-laws are tree-worshipping pagans, or (2) maybe it's a reference to some sort of astrological phenomenon that has to do with the longest day of the year, which takes place in the summer, and - yeah, it's probably (2). It was GORGEOUS. House on stilts, vast expanses of glass overlooking a picturesque beach that made Myrtle Beach look like the ugly stepsister of beaches. The sand was like talcum powder. A sweet wooden walkway led from the house over the dunes - DUNES! - to the shore. We took the boys down to the water, which they promptly jumpt into in their clothing.

Afterwards, we rode in Lauren's car into St. Augustine, the oldest continuously-inhabited city in These United States. There was clearly a surfeit of historical interest, which on a geekier and less child-encumbered road trip I would have eaten up like so much educational soft-serve ice cream. The boys were less interested, although you seen them above posing for a rare family photo in front of Ye Olde Wooden Schoolhouse. St Augustine was touristy, but in a somewhat classier way than Myrtle Beach. An analogy: Myrtle Beach:tattoo parlors as St. Augustine: Thomas Kinkade galleries. We ate at a restaurant that had the word "Cracker" in its name. Ike ordered gator tail, which he is pretending to relish above but was in fact too spicy for him. I ate most of it (yum. gator tail). Subsequently, Lauren's son and mine had a race to see who could melt down first.

The big success of our evening was Oscar and Ike's purchase of the badass-looking shark-tooth necklaces they are modeling above along with their best intense tough-customer expressions. They would like to never, ever remove these necklaces again. I can think of no good reason not to grant this wish.