Jersey? Shore!

So, we're home.  Our time at Erica's Aunt's beach house in Stone Harbor was too short.  It's good to be home and getting the kids back into a routine (they're at the Loyola Academy summer camp this week and next), but it's hard to leave anywhere where the sun rises over the beach right outside your bedroom window.

Our first day at the Shore was the Fourth of July.  The weather was clear and in the low 80s, with a steady breeze off the water.  A marked, and welcome, change from Florida, where by the end of our stay the weather was so hot we'd sweat through our clothes before getting to the car.  It was a classic beach day.  So many times we've sat on that beach and dug castles and played in the violent surf.  I remember the time on that beach I surely ripped a tendon in my shoulder throwing a Frisbee against the wind.  Or when Uncle Joe would go bodysurfing at 80 years old.  Or when I caught Tom smoking reds, which he admitted he only did on vacation.

The kids played happily enough the water even though it was freezing (we're normally here in mid-August when the water is much more agreeable).  I got in for a short bit.  Erica contented herself at ankle-depth, "keeping an eye on things."  That night Joseph (Erica's cousin) cooked up some tasty steaks, and we drank wine and caught-up well into the night.

Fireworks on the Beach!

Stone Harbor is ritzy, boasting these--the ritziest public bathrooms on earth

Classic Walter family "Corner Pose" at Mary Kay's beach house

The next day was all about Morey's Piers in Wildwood, about 20 minutes south of Stone Harbor.  Now, Stone Harbor is very bougie, and Wildwood very not.  Basically a southern version of the New York City-adjacent Jersey boardwalks of Springsteen lore, Wildwood is pure working-class Philly, with dollops of sartorial lewdness and aggressive Trumpiness thrown in for good measure.  It's also, somewhat paradoxically, extortionately priced, a fact it attempts to hide via the ol' tickets and tokens smokescreen.  150 tickets for just $100!  "But wait," you ask yourself, "a ride is 9 tickets per person?  If we all go on it, what's that equate to in the dollars I just spent? Hang on, let me do the math..."  Meanwhile your kid is pulling at your sleeve already to get you to buy them a turn throwing darts at balloons, and you never get around to completing your sum.  Those dollars add up real quick.  Expect to pay about $200 for a few hours at the pier.  The kids loved it.

The eponymous Pier

That Tilt-a-Whirl back there is no joke.

We split up for our last day at the Shore.  Erica went to lunch with her aunt and her cousin Joseph's girlfriend and did a little shopping, and I took the kids with Joseph on a four-hour party boat fishing trip.  Long story short, the catch was meager (they call it "fishing," not "catching," amirite).  I caught a little croaker and a teeny baby shark.  Juliet managed to somehow pull up a small piece of brown coral, and James got bupkis.  The waves were really up.  Several passengers barfed.  Was it the best day fishing?  No.  Was it fun, nonetheless?  Yes.  Juliet seemed particularly stimulated by the completely new experience and really did do a good job sticking to the task of fishing.  Kudos, Juju.

Discussing strategy

Baby shark, do-do-do-do-do-do

A play in 3 acts - Part 1: No

Part 2: Maybe tho?

Part 3: Ok. Aww.

Sigh.  And then vacation was over.  After another Lobster House meal (this time takeout), and a brief bout of s'more-making over a fire (apparently Aunt Mary Kay's first time doing so?), we hit the sacks for our long drive home.  Thankfully, the 15-hour drive was fairly uneventful as it could be with two kids in the back seat, save the snarled traffic in Chicago from the NASCAR race downtown.

Ok, so we've got another vacay lined up in 3 weeks, and I'll be hiking and camping in Utah with students for a week starting Thursday.  So we'll be back soon!