The Shipwrecks of NC

This is a plastic owl.  It sits on the railing of our beach house, Shelburne, and stares.  We tried turning it around so we couldn't see its creepy eyes, but then we kept getting it confused with a cat.

Unfortunately the owl seems to match Shelburne's interior.  If you've ever watched The Gilmore Girls, you'll know what I mean when I say it's like the 'eight o'clock at the oasis' house.  Only a tad more nautical.

Not to mention the living room is somewhat nightmarish.  You walk in the front door and find yourself face-to-face with a poster detailing all the different kinds of shark (it says 'fishes' but they look menacing to me.  And, contrary to what Josh says, all fish are not Marlin).  Then there are the Unperspective Paintings.  We've decided to call them that because, for whatever reason, the person who painted them had no understanding of perspective.  They feature teeny tiny little people in their teeny tiny little worlds, nicely arranged around THE GINORMOUS UMBRELLA (something like 50 feet high to scale), and THE GINORMOUS BOAT (it's like the Titanic, times two, washed up ashore in a fishing village - although the real question is how did it get through that little stream in the first place?).  And this is all topped off by a poster titled The Shipwrecks of NC - Cape Fear and Frying Pan Shoals.  Apparently the owners of Shelburne intend to ensure that the population of The Outer Banks never grows.

So, there's that.

This beach trip has been particularly eventful.  First things first: the wedding.  It was The Most Perfect Beach Wedding.  My sisters and I took 40 million photos using five different cameras; 39 million of them turned out well; the editing may take a decade.  What can I say.  They're an adorable couple so they were basically asking for it.

Tangent: It was then, sadly, that the Kough girls discovered they had an obscure feet-photo fetish. 6000 feet photos of the bride and groom.  Huh.

P.S. At this point I should probably mention that we came to the beach for a wedding. 

After that, it went like this: Dad stepped on a reed that went up his foot; Mom got kidney stones; Josh got some kind of skin infection; Noah got some kind of foot fungus; I got heat rash; Steph's nose ring got infected; Matt got badly sunburnt; Tiffany was eaten by mosquitoes; Sarah twisted her ankle; Peter face-planted while boogie-boarding; Luke turned 14, among various other things involving blood ... and Lydi got stung by a jellyfish. Fortunately we had The Infamous Engel Family here to console us, and Dr. Engel to diagnose all our various issues.

Unrelated: Noah dug his annual 7-ft. hole in the middle of the beach (I don't get it either).  We're hoping to catch a person.  Or something. 

Today is the last day and tomorrow we all head out, so here's to hoping ... nobody dies.

Me and my siblings.  Throughout the years people have asked how we all get along so well, and I've come to the conclusion that it's because we think we are hilarious.  Incidentally, we are.

This is Matt and his girlfriend Tiffany.

 This is Sarah and her boyfriend Josh.  They always look like this.

These are my parents.  My mom will probably say she hates this photo because she is in it, so you should all leave comments about how cute she looks.

I miss my boys.  My stateside trip was a somewhat impromptu surprise visit with a gifted plane ticket (the best gift ever - I love you, you), so the boys couldn't come with.  We've been skyping all week.  Isaac keeps pointing to my photo, pointing to himself, and saying "that one, that one," which means... I need my mommy?

... Oh look, I see some sun. Bye.