We took a walk around the neighborhood this morning. It was this attractive group and me. PP was running down the beach to Big Red and back, and was unable to participate in this lower impact form of exercise. It's a pretty neighborhood with lots of pretty flowers and green lawns and trees. On the way we came upon a bicycle standing next to the street that was put to another use after its retirement date. I guess the blogosphere has seen photos of this particular bike before, but it's the first that I've noticed it.
Another view of the bike. It's not a new bike, or a fast bike, but it is an object of art, perhaps "objet d'art."
We went to the grocery store twice to be sure we had the right stuff to make NCW's teriyaki chicken, and enough stuff for a batch of rye buns. I guess cooking has broken out. We had the chicken with wild rice for dinner and are expecting fresh bread tomorrow. With all the blueberries we've consumed, we're eating very well.
We had a big wind storm come through in the late afternoon which curtailed some of the beach activities, but after it settled down, and after the aforementioned dinner, PP and I had an amble up the beach to the park with a tunnel in it. It was nearly deserted, probably because of the rain and wind, but a few hardy souls were still there. PP and I climbed the stairs (I didn't count them) to the top of the dune and ran down the other side along with a bunch of ten to twelve year old kids. One of them saw me loping down the hill and had this priceless look of great surprise to see such an old human running down the hill. I guess I had disturbed her view of humanity's possibilities.
So we ran down the hill again and walked through the tunnel for which the park is named, then ambled back from the beach, chatting about life, love, and the vagaries of sea gulls, Irish and American. Why do they take off when one (a human being) quickly raises his arms above his head?