3: Popped collars at our "Yacht Rock" party.
36: Number of hours spent on the road. Only truly horrible during the last five or so.
1: Bushel of crabs eaten. This was the cause of one super-deep cut on my finger, which we have dubbed a "white person injury." "Oh, this? I got it eating Jimmies in the surf."
50: SPF needed to protect our Midwestern winter skin. I packed SPF 15, which may have been optimistic. I never did get to step down.
24: Bottles of wine consumed. This figure does not include champagne, which I would estimate at another ten bottles.
3: Pieces of sea-glass found. To be fair, my mom wasn't there to help me.
20: Pounds of pork shoulder devoured. In hindsight, this makes me a little sick.
2: Number of skinny dippers. None of which were me.
3 Million: Number of stars we saw when the electricity on the island went out one night. My favorite hour of the trip.
Until next time, OBX.
