Je suis ICI! Egats! Lord knows I need it. Non-manhattan, that is, for a minute.
So far, so good. I came here once in – say – seventh gradish? But little do I remember of those forced bus journies to where. So I’m pretty much seeing this place for the first time. People, it’s pretty great. 4 hours of a sleep, boxer dogs, fried oysters, three margaritas to the wind, one windy beach, one ms. carrie cottingham, an only HALF maxed out credit card.
Cott has lots to say about the law and ancient cases concerning fox hunting, and I am one eager listener. Barbecue has some mysterious vomit problem and might not join us. I smell, for some reason, like cheese. I blog so I don’t pass out. Tonight, we take a ghost tour.