Oh, good. The weather is getting warm, the sand is covered with bare foot prints, and folks have climbed out from under their winter rocks and are talking to each other again. That means I ought to have up-to-the-minute Character Reports from the Front Lines before too long. It’s almost time to head out
for a walk on the beach to do some research.
[The Writer (that would be me), her Research Assistant (pictured on the left) and Resident Photographer/Technology Guru (behind the camera) leave the office for an hour to do basic field work.]
Bingo. Back from the beach, where it was 80+ degrees with a brisk off-shore breeze. We were sitting on the sand when a woman, probably in her early 70’s, walked toward us in what appeared to be her nightgown.
Now, I’m not much of a fashion maven these days, but I’m thinking if this thing was marketed as a ‘beach cover-up’ it was supposed to be worn over a bathing suit and at least hint at covering it. It wasn’t, and it didn’t. (And did I mention it was windy?)
“Can I pet her?” She was already scratching Polly’s head.
“I got a miniature dachshund – that thing thinks he rules the world. We’ll be walking and some little girl will come up and ask if she can pet him. I say ‘yes’ but I know she’ll see God before that dog’ll ever let her touch him.”
Mostly the beach is fine smooth sand, but we had a lunar high tide this week-end and one section was littered with sharp pieces of broken shells. She picked her way through the rubble in bare feet, winced in pain and then grinned back at me:
“Just gotta think of it like it’s a cheap pedicure.”
She kept on walking, nightgown flapping in the breeze.