Side note: I thought Scottish Highland's ice cream was exceptionally overrated (not least because of the number of unpronounceables in the ingredient list). Locals love it, and Trip Advisor just ranked it in the top 10 in the country, so I am definitely in the minority, but... Jack agreed with me.
We have taken outdoor showers and eaten seafood and strolled through Easton and observed just how much seagulls can poop. We have stayed up late playing games and woken up early with the sunrise. We have read and adored an only partial access to WiFi. We enjoyed a spontaneous rum and curaçao tasting at the Tilghman Country Store.
We have endured a crisis.
Oliver accidentally used "so many of the coins I have been working sooo hard for to buy levels I do not need." while tiredly playing Angry Birds Star Wars when finally Tom and I, exhausted, said ok to screen time.
I fled the 1,000-piece Cinque Terre puzzle I was working on and plopped in a perfectly weathered adirondack chair near the dock. Now I'm listening to the waves lap at the wharf and thinking that if this puppy reclined, I'd be fast asleep in no time.
Four fat gulls are preening and resting on so many copper-capped pilings. One gull is stunningly rumbled, as if it never learned that smooth feathers are the aerodynamic ones. It looks as if it got pulled through a fan. That said, we can't all be good at everything, and I rather like how he's just letting his flag fly.