Whitman boys.

I type this on the last night of a week-long vacation in Manzanita, a startlingly beautiful and picturesque beach town south of Cannon Beach, which is also beautiful but not picturesque at all, unless you were raised in Anaheim. The weather has been good, though windy: the kiteboarders have been in hog heaven, but the fluffy white sand that normally covers this beach has been blown to the southern end, leaving hard-packed wet brown sand that the wind carves into centimeter-scale coulees and promontories.

But big driftwood logs reserve some of that fluffy sand on both their leeward and windward sides. Perfect for a young sand addict:

The week has been rough, mainly due to a bad bagel early in the week that had me incapacitated from food poisoning for a couple days, and a slow recovery from that. So TDW has borne the burden of taking The Gus the half-block to the beach, while I sit bundled on the couch and gently sway mutely. Plus the wi-fi network I am poaching from is unreliable and slow, so my suffering has been magnified. But I rebounded today, the day before we leave, which plays pretty much perfectly into TDW’s suspicion that I will be just perfect once we arrive back at home, so I am allergic to vacations, see the post-Belize post, QED. But what can you do? Bad bagels happen. Meh.

But I promised pictures in my last post. Here is The Gus, listening to Tex-Mex swing at Kruger’s farm a couple weeks ago, and being adored. I hope too much love won’t spoil a baby, or the years 2018-2024 will be a rough teenaged period for us.

Here are The Gus and HJ, enjoying beverages and the new Harry Potter the weekend it came out:

If I post more, will you read more?