Casey’s 31st birthday was this past Sunday. (Which, according to him means he’s “officially in his 30’s”, whereas when he was 30, he was “just 30, but not in his 30’s”. Whatever helps you sleep at night, old man.) So to celebrate his official entry into his 30’s, I surprised him with a little weekend trip to the beach. Our sweet friends rented us their house in Rockaway Beach, one of our very favorite places on the coast. (Thanks Laura & Alex!) So on Friday afternoon we packed up the kid and the pups and made our way west towards the land of rainboots and matted hat hair and clam chowder and salt water taffy and finding sand in your pockets for weeks.
We spent the bulk of the weekend just wandering up and down that ding dang beautiful beach. No agenda, no plan… just us 5, roaming around. The weather was lovely, 50/60ish degrees with just the slightest nip in the air. The kind of nip that gives you rosy cheeks, not icicle cheeks. There’s a fine line between rosy cheek weather and icicle cheek weather and if you’re not careful you can stumble right past it and wander straight into runny nose/into your mouth/don’t notice until you taste it/because your face is numb weather. Which everyone knows is the gateway to frozen nostril hairs weather, which means you’ve just entered a whole other realm of existence known as Minnesota in February.
What were we even talking about?
The beach! The beach. Crosby was in heaven. He’s been to the coast before but this time he could walk on his own! And walk he did, straight for the water. Nonstop. The kid has no fear… which is equal parts awesome and terrifying. And the dogs, man. The dogs were in their element. If they had their way, we would live right there smack dab in the middle of the beach. And let’s be honest, if I had my way, I would too.
We also indulged in a boatload of fresh seafood at the Old Oregon Smokehouse. No for real though, we ate so much… it probably was an entire boatload. Like, captain and oars and life jackets and all. Deep fried life jacket probably tastes a bit like deep-fried octopus anyways, right?
Let’s just move on to the shoddy iphone pics, shall we? Check them out, if you’d like.
I hope you had a great birthday, Casebear. Love you more than I love deep-fried anything. And that’s a lot.