Winchester

The intercoastal waterway is the system of little river-ettes and whatnot that goes up and down the entire east coast of the US. Our beach house is right on it (as are, basically, all eastern beach houses) and if you go out from our "alley" into the bay, at low tide, you'll be able to get to Peanut Island. It's not really an island. It's really just a sandy and shallow part of the bay that looks something like a beach, with water on one side and the dunes and marshes behind it. The sand is very hard in some places and very soft in other places, with just about no inbetween and no way to tell. It's very staunchly ridged in either case, and hurts your feet a little bit to walk on. A tiny "river" cuts through one part of the island and goes back into the marshes - we tried to explore it but there were too many flies today because it was extremely windy.

As we were walking back from that river, we walked by four chairs inhabited by what was presumably two husband and wife couples. As Sam was passing them, suddenly, a small little Dachsund jumped out and started yipping at him. He said he loved Dachsunds so he didn't really mind, but as he did the owners kept calling him - Winchester - to come back.

There was a boat that was beached on Peanut Island just beyond where Winchester was sitting from where we set up. It was clearly just there that day and the person would be fine when the tide came in a little bit. At one point we actually saw the guy and his two young daughters - maybe 8 and 10 years old - running back to the boat. He was wearing a dark blue swim suit and no shirt with a very tan back, and his girls were paler with shortish curly hair and wearing light blue and pink swimsuits, I think. As he ran by, I believe Winchester came to attack him. Of course his daughters were trailing behind him, and Winchester came after them too. I believe one of them safely escaped his yipping, but the other ran in a circle. From where we were observing, it looked like Winchester had taken her over a small hill and tackled her on the ground to consume her. Which was pretty funny considering the dog was about 7 pounds max.

Turns out she was fine, of course.

Peace out!

Whistling

I play hockey some Sunday mornings with a group of adult guys from Delaware. They talk about divorces and their wives and kids and real jobs and being old and things like that. It's an interesting change. One of the guys is a heart surgeon I believe.

On the way back, when I was making a left turn onto (I think) Barley Mill Road and I had to stop at a red light. I don't know why but I looked into the car to the left of me in the other turn lane, and the people caught my attention. It was a dad, I think dressed in a collared shirt, and his daughter, maybe twelve years old or so, looking like she about to go to a pool party. He was teaching her how to whistle by putting your fingers into your mouth. I suppose he knew how to do it pretty well. I didn't look too much because I didn't want to be a creeper but she looked like she was having some trouble. I think I remember seeing her one time try and then just give up laughing very hard, her dad doing exactly the same. I don't know if she learned it in the time that I was there or not - it seemed like a very long light - but I remember catching them again when the light turned green and she wasn't trying to whistle anymore, they were just talking.

Peace out.