I Had Walked Nearly Five Miles (Or Something Like That)

And I could not walk just one more!  That was the song (or at least it was a version of that Proclaimers song popularized by Benny and Joon) playing in my head the day I took these pictures.  You see, the day before Christmas Eve I decided to take a walk on the beach.  The sun was bright and the air was less cold than one would expect on December 23, and I though it was a good time to do some thinking and sneak in some exercise.  So, when I reached my usual quitting point I kept going.  I passed a man with a kite and some people with dogs, and it being Brigantine, some people in trucks passed me.  I saw the Emerald City of casinos glinting in the distance and couldn't help but wonder how long it would take to reach them.  Not unlike our friend Forrest, I figured that I'd walked this far, so why not walk some more?
 

An hour or so later I slid onto the cool, smooth seat of the jetty that borders the water barricading the Revel.  It was strange seeing that (to me) unexplored stretch of beach up close and personal, and I spent a  few minutes taking some pictures and taking it all in.

And then it was time to turn back.

I took my time on the return journey, stopping to collect seashells, both in celebration and in deference to my protesting legs.

Then, once back on concrete land, I came upon this less picturesque but nonetheless much-loved Brigantine landmark:

Naturally, once back at home base I made a necklace from the seashells I'd gathered.

I call it the Mermaid Magic Necklace, and Tammy, minx that she is, models it here in her Venus swimsuit.  "That's one must-have mollusk," the fiance said as he was passing through.

I can only hope he was talking about the necklace.