There was no traveling on the schedule for today, so we decided to take a walk on the beach in the morning. Bonnie discovered that when you come across a pile of rocks that is within reach of the waves, you can listen as the rocks are rolled over each other by the movement of the water and the sound is absolutely beautiful. I decided that if you could hear the music of the spheres, that is what it ought to sound like. (The association has nothing to do with my personal metaphysics – just the fact that spherical objects were making music and it all makes sense in my head.)
Dustin and I were splashing in the waves as we walked, and I managed to get just wet enough that it looked like I had wet myself. As a result, I had to get deeper into the water so it didn’t look like I had bladder control problems, as a result of which I got a whole swimsuit full of sand. Serves me right. I should have just gone all the way in at that point, but I was having lack-of-sunscreen anxiety (I hadn’t meant to stay out quite so long) so we went back up to the pool, which was still shaded at that time of day, for our swim.
After a bit of lunch, we set to salsa-making. We added all the usual ingredients minus green pepper (which we didn’t have) plus orange mystery pepper and with pineapple vinegar instead of the regular stuff. It wound up being rather sweet and strange, but still pretty tasty.
After more lounging by the pool and kicking around in the waves, we had lots and lots of margaritas and then pork chops. I spent my time waiting for dinner spying on a Mexican couple who were down on the beach digging up something and putting it into a sack. The man would hunker down with his feet in the waves and watch, then he’d see something and go running to it and start digging in the sand. Then he’d chuck whatever he was finding to the woman, who stuck it in a sack. We couldn’t tell what they were getting, even with the binoculars. I figure it must be some sort of clam. Later, I tried digging a hole myself to see if I could find anything, but as soon as my fingers brushed something other than sand, I shrieked like a little girl. It turned out only to be a rock anyway. (To excuse my shrieking, I must point out that when I WAS a little girl, digging in the sand at Santa Cruz, I kept finding creepy little blue crabs. I wasn’t interested in getting my fingers pinched.)
A lovely day on the beach, if I do say so.