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It's fine. Everything's fine.[/caption]It doesn't start out that way. It never does. I'm almost always oblivious first. Greedily sucking down lovely experiences with the verve of someone half my age, once again assured that since everything is beautiful and nothing hurts for a whole three seconds, surely this will be forever. Totally sensible during a pandemic, right? I mean what could possibly happen?
The lovely part is just so lovely though. My contract for my next book is in my hot little paws. Jow and I take off for Jamestown for a week where we see our New Englanders. We always stay at the same place, a little townhouse where you can hear the ocean from the bedroom. It has a porch for our people to lounge on, which has become way more important than it was before. We're talking all the cliff side ocean walks. We've perving on all the sprawling shingled houses hidden behind hedges. We're eating charcuterie plates on the cliff over the ocean while drinking cups of Babablon tea. The same bluegrass band that stays when we stay often is there, playing and gossiping in our backyard. We get to go to our favorite oyster farm for big plates of oysters and soup, sitting outside overlooking the beds in the pond (twice!). We're eating every sea creature who does not have the sense to hide from us, some of which we've obtained from a nearby town that resembles Stars Hollow. I'm drinking aviations at my favorite place outside before noon (twice! In one week!). I had plans for elaborate drinks, but our signature cocktail became melted chocolate gelato with cafe Patron and smoked bourbon. The fog is romantic, there are days we read and sun outside. We walk Trash Beach (A2 has a Trash Beach in New Jersey she likes. I like calling this beach Trash Beach because it's a beautiful private beach but after season, dogs are allowed on it and me and Jow too). There are middle aged surfers and paddle boarders. We watch children learning to sail on teeny tiny schooners, with lots of angry whistling from the coach. Jow and I slow dance on our back porch to Autumn Love (Deathcab for Cutie), my phone dangles in one hand and a s'more beer in the other, the bridge twinkling in front of us. We see Mx Spice, we see MFHG. We see Alx and go on a wild adventure, tearing around the Elms and The Breakers because they have allowed us to get tickets to both for just the grounds (which they never do). I pick the fanciest garden at The Breakers and we take our picnic there, much to Jow's everlasting shame. I'm loving trashing it up since we would likely be lucky to work in service there back in the day, let alone picnic on the lawn. We eat brie with apples and lie on the lawn. Alx and I play beer pong with rosé cider and tiny solo cups and tiny pingpong balls on the marble porch which makes Jow want to die more, making it that much more fun. We go to the Elms and climb the trees, looking at the goddess statues and tromping through all the gardens on the grounds.