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Abigail turns 11 months old. She meets some cousins, I think.

We went to a wedding somewhere south of Tracy. It was sweet.

Checkin out the ceremony. Momma leery, Abigail squinty.

The bride's momma and stepdad took some time from the celebration to pose with their granddaughter.

Any other granddaughters around? No, just eyeglasses.

Here we surreptitiously got a shot of a guest wearing innappropriate dress. Abigail was not pleased.

Tanktop, shortshorts and flipflops.

She still sits in a little tub for bathing because it's easier to excert our will upon her and it uses less water.

"Your will, huh?"

Abigail and Daddy read before bedtime. Please take note of the lovely children's book library Daddy built of cheap pine, screws and dowels. It's a ripoff of some $400 dollar furniture from Pottery Barn.

Goldilocks read in about 30 seconds. Abigail insists on brevity.

Little beach baby took her parents to Rio Del Mar beach.

Flinging sand, or something.

Beach baby enjoyed fooling around on the shore.

Flinging seaweed.

Lately, beach baby has enjoyed stomping around supported by a parent.
In the background you can see the cement ship. One of only a few constructed, it was built to transport cargo during WWI, when iron was costly enough to make it seem like a good idea. After some trials, the idea was scrapped and the ship was berthed here to become a floating casino in the 20's. The casino burnt down after a while, and the ship subsided onto the seabed. Now it's home to pelicans, gulls, and thousands of broken bottles.
Also, check out my Michael Waltrip hat.
Update: I checked my facts and found them a bit off. A few dozen ships were made, but the war ended before most could be used. The ship was berthed in Oakland (where it was built) until 1929, when it was bought by an entertainment company for the express purpose of making an offshore dance hall and casino. It was intentionaly sunk, and fixed up with the ballroom, etc. It never burned down, but rather was dismantled and sold for scrap after only a couple years of operation (check the date when they opened). The hull has since broken up to some extent due to lashings by winter storm. The white streaks you see are birdshit, which makes the area around the pier fertile ground for fishermen. It's named the Palo Alto, but universally called "the cement ship".

Surf stomp.

One last shot of beach fun. She really enjoyed squishing wet sand.

Bye!

We went to a wedding somewhere south of Tracy. It was sweet.	Checkin out the ceremony. Momma leery, Abigail squinty.
The bride's momma and stepdad took some time from the celebration to pose with their granddaughter.	Any other granddaughters around? No, just eyeglasses.
Here we surreptitiously got a shot of a guest wearing innappropriate dress. Abigail was not pleased.	Tanktop, shortshorts and flipflops.
She still sits in a little tub for bathing because it's easier to excert our will upon her and it uses less water.	"Your will, huh?"
Abigail and Daddy read before bedtime. Please take note of the lovely children's book library Daddy built of cheap pine, screws and dowels. It's a ripoff of some $400 dollar furniture from Pottery Barn.	Goldilocks read in about 30 seconds. Abigail insists on brevity.
Little beach baby took her parents to Rio Del Mar beach.	Flinging sand, or something.
Beach baby enjoyed fooling around on the shore.	Flinging seaweed.
Lately, beach baby has enjoyed stomping around supported by a parent. In the background you can see the cement ship. One of only a few constructed, it was built to transport cargo during WWI, when iron was costly enough to make it seem like a good idea. After some trials, the idea was scrapped and the ship was berthed here to become a floating casino in the 20's. The casino burnt down after a while, and the ship subsided onto the seabed. Now it's home to pelicans, gulls, and thousands of broken bottles. Also, check out my Michael Waltrip hat. Update: I checked my facts and found them a bit off. A few dozen ships were made, but the war ended before most could be used. The ship was berthed in Oakland (where it was built) until 1929, when it was bought by an entertainment company for the express purpose of making an offshore dance hall and casino. It was intentionaly sunk, and fixed up with the ballroom, etc. It never burned down, but rather was dismantled and sold for scrap after only a couple years of operation (check the date when they opened). The hull has since broken up to some extent due to lashings by winter storm. The white streaks you see are birdshit, which makes the area around the pier fertile ground for fishermen. It's named the Palo Alto, but universally called "the cement ship".	Surf stomp.
One last shot of beach fun. She really enjoyed squishing wet sand.	Bye!