We're hanging out in our fog shrouded home on the hill, waiting for Earl or the remnants thereof.
The other night, a school night I might add, we took a quick after dinner trip to the beach. We arrived just as the sun was setting, around 7:20, and stayed for about an hour. We crossed the wooden bridge and drove down the bumpy, sandy road to the second crossover. There are always signs at the crossovers. Usually they say 'Closes at 8pm' or 'Caution: Soft Sand' or even 'Danger: Flood Tide'. On Wednesday night this is the sign that greeted us: 
More than 48 hours ahead of Earl. Go figure.
Of course 'No Swimming' could be open for interpretation by some. Some as in Bobby Law.
Is this considered swimming? 
How about this? 
Hmmm, this seems pretty undeniable...Even if it is blurry. 
Cuyler couldn't bear to watch. 
The swimming portion of the evening last about 90 seconds and ended without incident. We spent the rest of our visit beachcombing and battling gnats. 
Next time, we bring fire--even if we aren't cooking.