2002-08-20 - 8:24 p.m.

We met a woman in a bar the first night, who struck up a conversation with me when the boyfriend was in the bathroom, and we hung out and talked to her for a while. The next morning we were walking to the car from breakfast, and we heard, "Hey you guys!" We turned around, and it was her. She is a gardener, or landscaper, and was doing hot, sweaty work on the grounds of a stately old cape house. We decided that that was an omen, a local befriending us on our first night, and talked about renting a cottage there next summer, for a week.

We ate lobster and steamers, and We11fleet oysters every day, and had Maine blueberry cobbler and salt water taffy, made right there in the shop. I bought a new bathing suit, with the boyfriend in the dressing room with me, getting me sizes and weighing in with his opinion. Which is always loving and positive, even when it isn't. LOVE that. We drank H@rpoon and walked around P-Town and sought out the boyfriends favorite bar in the world. Which was a dank, stinking hellhole, the likes of which I'd never seen. Filled with salty old toothless drunks, every surface coated with grease and dust and the smoke of a million cigarettes. We didn't stay long, though, because you have to be doing tequila shots to spend any time in there, and we had to drive.

Our friends were there, and we went to their house for a barbecue on Saturday night. On Sunday, at the beach, Terry said to me, "You guys seem really, really good." And I said, "Yeah, we are. Really, really good." So what more could I ask for?

A few observations about the C@pe, for your edification.

1. Those grey shingle houses, with white trim and bright shutters. I really, really want one of those. Not a big one, just a little one, with wild flowers growing right up to the sidewalk and an herb garden outside the door, and purple for my shutters. Shiny violet. *sigh*

2. The people on the beach are REAL people. I was beside myself. A far, far cry from the H@mptons or the Jersey shore. No fake tits, no fake tans, no jewelry, no day glo thongs, no puffed up muscle boys with gold chains and hair gel. Regular people, with their regular bodies, swimming and sunbathing. It's a beautiful thing.

3. No one there knows how to drive. The boyfriend was hesitant to send me out alone for coffee on Monday, as my road rage had not abated after 4 days of vacation. 10 minute left turns from the right lane, 10 mph driving morons, people walking and standing around in the MIDDLE OF THE PARKING LOT. A girl can only take so much.

4. The first night there we went to a bar and I felt like M@risa T0mei in My C0usin V1nny. Not that I have big hair and spandex pants, of course. But all the women at the bar had on windbreakers or sweatshirts with embroidered Cape town names on them. Shorts, canvas sneakers, boat shoes. And there I am in khaki capris, a black nylon sleeveless hoody, and my J0@n and D@vids. I made up for it the next night, though, by going to happy hour in my cutoff sweat shorts and a wife beater over my bathing suit.

5. The beach? Beautiful. Fabulous. The hike back up the breathtaking SAND CLIFFS to the car, not so much. The dunes that buttress the beach are huge, sloping solid walls of marbled sand. They look like rock, or maybe solid earth. However, the climb back up is BRUTAL. Hated that.

And I'm tan and relaxed, and I cleaned up the five million emails and messages I had today, and now have three whole days until I head off to Veg@s for a week of work.

Tonight, I MUST make a list.

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