I could not make this up: we live on the latitude of Moscow. Walker’s embracing it; he likes being inside early with lots of lamps. I’m swallowing hard. At 3:50, my friends, we were already losing light.

I was out yesterday afternoon thanks to this lovely, lovely surprise wedding present (to be disclosed later) that needed to be hung. Coinkidink of the century: I saw some friends in the hardware and, of the thousands of items in that crammed smorgasbord of household items, you could never guess what they were there to buy. Picture hangers. I know, freaky.

East Sands may not be as massive, as 1950's-soundtrack dramatic, or as invigorating as West Sands, but it is our little polar Bahamas with still, blue water. West Sands, you are not that. And East Sands pulls ahead . . . 1-0.

Nor do you smell fish-salty.

(who knows what this is, but it looks pretty sweet.)
East Sands is more hospitable to sleepy boats. And it's all East, folks. They're positively pulling away. West better crank it up.

But they both have the same even fringe of rock. West is poised for a comeback, folks.

If your shoes are fussy about sand, there are walkways above both beaches. East Sands' walk has a simple, cleaner view, although West Sands is so much grander. And West Sands makes a mammoth leap forward to tie the game at 4.

Whistle! And, with a host of extra points for nostalgia (this wasn't a fair game from the start) we end with West Sands crushing East Sands.

Promise that's not a bad word; I checked on urbandictionary.