To restore (or, at least preserve) my sanity, I am trying to get into the habit of talking walk-jogs on the beach in the mornings. I follow the tide calendar to see when the tide is low, so the sand is compacted but still requires some effort, and I try to get in a few miles a day, a few days a week. When the tide is really low, like today, I get a bit distracted by wonderful creepy crawlies in the tide pools. Sometimes it's just hundreds of hermit crabs, but they're still pretty interesting.
I saw a dead jellyfish on the beach this morning during my walk. It wasn't even in a tide pool, it was trapped far up on the sand, left there by last night's extremely high tide, stranded and asphyxiated. It looked like a giant glob of mucus, at least a foot across. Huge. Soft. Wet. Squishy-looking. I really, really wanted to poke it, but I restrained myself. I don't trust rural Mexican emergency response to make the connection between a writhing poisoning victim on the beach and the venomous animal lying at her side.
Lola needs a long poking stick.