It was a nice night, and we went to a nearby beach, then to a lighthouse, where we cooked and ate dinner on an oceanside bluff. (I am not totally certain I am using the right word here, but it was the bluffiest thing I've eaten on. So, let's just call it a bluff. Bluff it is. I hate the word bluff now that I have said it so many times, so now I'm calling it a 20 foot cliff over a rocky shore of Point Judith, a little peninsula leggy thing sticking off the state of Rhode Island.)
Anyhow, that's where we ate. It was really beautiful and the weather was perfect. So, we slept without the rain fly. We did not realize how risky this was until this morning when we woke up to the wild call of some sort of prehistoric birds. They pooped all over our tent, fortunately they focused their efforts more on the door of our tent, sparing the screened ceiling area (and our faces).
ATATT News Insert: Tom was the unfortunate tent de-pooper, which probably triggered flashbacks... Because he also de-pooped our picnic table the day before. No wonder he has so many fans... It takes a real man to let his woman remain free of such duties. Other duties I have been spared from this ENTIRE trip include, but may not be limited to: setting up the tent, taking down the tent, dealing with bugs, dealing with animal feces, and heavy lifting. Also, I don't drive. I mean, in general I do, but if I can help it, I won't. I haven't drive once in almost 3 weeks. On the other hand, I do all the cooking (except coffee, I make horrible coffee. Just can't get that ratio right.) I also manage roughly 1,350 ziplock bags full of clothes, socks, shoes, pajamas, rain gear, toiletries, cold-weather clothing, etc. For all six of us.). If Tom didn't come, we'd eat well, but sleep outside... But, we'd get mad dehydrated because I can't open the water bottle caps he twists on so tightly. Bad wrists, you know. If Tom did this without me, he would only eat marshmallows, which he would have to roast naked, but he'd have a tent and no animal poop anywhere. So, it's probably good we are a package deal.
This afternoon we did some of Cliff Walk, which is a 3 mile stretch along the coast of Newport, RI. The gorgeous mansions were incredible, and bad for my self-esteem. Then we hit a matinee showing of the new Winnie the Pooh movie. The kids were loving it, and I was loving the AC. I stopped loving the experience when a wrestling match between London and I (over who was at the helm of the juice box holding) left one of my legs juice-soaked and sticky.
We are now headed to our last campsite, Devil's Hopyard State Park near Salem, Connecticut, where we will spend our last two nights. My dad is flying in tonight from Michigan and spending the next two nights with us before we head home.
I am sure that he is in for quite an experience. I think he will particularly enjoy the post-dinner Beatboxing Hour, featuring "DJ Harper and all the Saliva He can Muster."
More on that to come, I'm sure.