Ocracoke, 2008

This was the first year we beat my aunt down to the house because she lives in Durham, NC and we live in the Philadelphia suburbs, PA. We took twenty minutes unpacking our stuff, and another forty unpacking her stuff because she was "busy" doing some inconsequential activity. We made it to the beach that first day just in time to witness a woman being strapped onto a backboard and airlifted to a mainland hospital. Jack and I went into the water, but then they changed the flags on us to "No Swimming," so we had to get out. Later that evening we went to the Community Center to enjoy the swinging Oldies sounds of the seventies. Not many other people showed up, and the guitarist kept making eyes at me, but he was old and not he kind I am liable to be strangely attracted to. My brother got the Monster "BFC" and I got my first slice of Chocolate Mousse cake since last year. I denied myself a fork because I couldn't understand the cute kids' southern accent. I made my brother get fudge and a fork for me. The second day there continued to be strong parallel currents and no backboard, so no swimming again. Eventually we were able to go swimming again and I lathered on the SPF 45 sunscreen in an effort to rather be a mime than a lobster. I tanned instead of burned for the first time in my entire life. Tan will have to be considered into be factored into that motto. Usually I wear boy shorts with my bikini top. However, on one occasion, I switched to regular bikini bottoms halfway through the day and wound up being in burnt in the difference in skin coverage. Very painful. The waves were breaking too close to shore to be excellent body surfing or boogie boarding and our dad wouldn't let us look for the sand bar usually about 50 yards out. I napped on the beach and my aunt Karen and dad were spitting watermelon seeds on me to try to tan a design onto my back. I was already beyond that point, so it's unnoticeable. The hippi store didn't have as many buttons. I still picked up four and a t-shirt, but I missed out on the $20 zombie playset. Sending post cards this year was wonderful. I actually got them sent out while I was still on the island. Got too many though and accidentally sent JoeKat's to Hetty's. She got hers though, so I told her to throw his out. Ocracoke island is wildly populated by feral cats. During the entire trip we saw 17 individual cats, including one that came to our back porch to eat ham that looked like he was wearing eyeliner. The last full night, Friday, was a full moon and my brother and I went for a boring ghost tour. I enjoyed the stuff about history, but the ghosts were boring so my brother left fifteen minutes before nine to go pick up two liters of Mt. Dew. He's an addict. While not swimming I read The Invisible Man by Welles, Congo, A Clockwork Orange, The Amityville Horror, and the first hundred pages of The Grapes of Wrath. The Saturday we left, my brother and I packed up and loaded the car in half an hour, then my dad made us pack up our obnoxious aunt's car. She reads the New Yorker and lives in North Carolina. I think it's a tremendous waste. The last thirty miles I had to pee, but I listened to Modest Mouse and watched the red pink sunset over Wilmington.