The Cape of Cod

It's come at last, the week to which I look forward all year: Cape Cod week. Writer's Conference week- although I won't be attending that this year because none of the classes appealed too hugely to me. The evening lectures are always surprisingly interesting, however. Last year they had Dennis Lehane for a talk and a reading one night, and although I actually tried to get out of going because I hadn't read or seen Mystic River or any of the rest of his stuff, it ended up being my favorite night of the week due to a rather thrilling reading of his work-in-progress, a novel (or novels, according to Wikipedia) on the Boston Police Strike of 19somethingorother. Which, normally, sounds like a subject that would've had me falling asleep on the painfully hard hardwood benches, except that the man has a gift for building suspense and tension.

It didn't hurt that he's kind of cute in person. Married, of course, but so is everyone else in the entire world.

Anyway, I'll be gone until next Sunday or thereabouts, assuming I'm unable to locate a steady internet connection. The wireless on the green is perfectly fine for posting blogs (sorry!) but I doubt it'd appreciate my attempting to fire up SL, even assuming downloading and running it didn't melt my laptop into a small puddle of plastic and metal and hate.

Therefore, instead of staring longingly at the virtual water as I'm wont to do, I'll be gazing peacefully at this:




...and being generally as happy as an unfried clam.



In Other News: Is it sad when getting hit on during a late night Slushie run at the Quick-E-Mart* makes one's day?



I'll be back in a week, .03% closer to death by skin cancer.











* All convenience stores are Quick-E-Mart to me.