The Vineyard

One of my good friends in graduate school is a native of Martha's Vineyard-- Edgartown, to be exact. His name is Nick and he wears the original Nantucket reds that very few people understand the origins behind, and can't get enough whale polos, seersucker, or madras anything. I tease him about his undying, exclusive love for blond women. He's an exceptionally social kid and an entertainer at heart, never turning down a drink or an invitation, as it may somehow expand his network. And in line with him keeping this up, several friends and I (at least one of them is blond, probably my all-time grad school favorite-- Kelly-- and she will undoubtedly be our bow-of-the-boat candy) are going to see what it's all about. Tonight we're off to Martha's Vineyard! I haven't ever been, but I grew up on the water-- albeit in a much more humid place-- and am very much looking forward to seeing what experience my pal exchanged in place of meeting Obama last week.

My dear friend Julie is camping out at my apartment to do some language studying for work and watch my sweet little fluffball. It was going to cost a fortune to board him, or be pretty challenging to get him to someone else to take care of for the weekend and then get him back in time to get to obedience class on Monday. Now, everyone wins!

We'll all spend the night in Boston, then ferry over in the morning. Our itinerary includes sailing to Nantucket and having a good ole New England lobster boil and clam bake. We're promised to meet some cool local folks, and I'm told that Meg Ryan shops at the same grocery store. Whatever works!

A photo labeled "MV happy place":