08 May 2014
St. Augustine to DeLand and Daytona Beach, FL

Gina has just thrown an interception so I’d say Russell Wilson has nothing to worry about. She’s out there frolicking in the sea with Terri, and by frolicking I mean playing football with young and possibly drunk college boys. It’s Daytona Beach baby, and these boys are newly-minted graduates from Dayton, Ohio, quickly learning that our girls aren’t your run-of-the-mill girly girls but girls who can actually throw and catch. I’d say their Seattle Warbirds days are on display.

We’ve reached Daytona Beach via a trip to a central Florida town named DeLand. We have a few fans of our blog but if you count those that aren’t related, there is probably no bigger fan than Gina’s friend Bob Barr, who resides in DeLand with his lovely wife Jean. Bob has traveled with us on all of our journeys, reading (and apparently saving) every blog we’ve posted. So a trip to Florida would not have been complete without paying our respects to our Number One Fan.

Bob went to the New York State Merchant Marine Academy with Gina’s father back in the 1940s and their group of schoolmates have stayed in touch since those days, gathering for reunions when possible and sharing updates by email when not. It’s a pretty special thing that Gina still has this connection and even more special when she can reconnect with her father’s classmates in person. So thank you again, Bob, for treating all of us ladies to lunch and stories. It was a lovely afternoon and we enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Naturally after eating it was time to go swim. Well, maybe that’s not the best time to go swim but Daytona Beach was calling. So off we drove to the beach and then onto the beach we drove. My initial I’m-an-environmentalist-and-can’t-support-this superiority attitude was quickly and perhaps a bit shamefully discarded upon realizing how much easier it is to park 10 feet from the surf than schlep all of the requisite beach crap down from the sizzling parking lot to the shore. I still feel a little guilty about it but I promise that next time I see a turtle crossing the road, I’ll stop and give him a hand. Or Gina’s hand. Or better yet, Nicole’s hand, as we know she can round ’em up.