The Outer Banks feel a bit more wild than the serene scapes of Charleston, and that wildness reaches its peak during the off-season. The Sound is choppy with whitecaps and the wind is fierce (our house on stilts sways a bit) -- but when you have a cozy place to run back to, that crazy-cold wind is invigorating. Frankie and I ran many-a-lap around the house to expend some energy.
Thanksgiving, as always in our family, was super low-key. My mom insists that it's an easy meal to pull off and she does so with little to no planning or help. For the rest of us, Thanksgiving means pure R&R. We don't know anybody in the vicinity, there's not much to go out and see -- it comes down to reading, walking, and eating -- and when my sister and I have nothing to do is when the magic happens. I love the time with her to be unapologetically goofy and unproductive. Now the problem is getting through these next few weeks because after decorating our mini tree last night while listening to Charlie Brown Christmas music, I am in full-blown holiday mode.
Isabel, Sullivan's Island.
