On Saturday morning, RP and I went down with MH to his family's mostly-non-working farm situated some 30 minutes north of Princeton, NJ. Along the way, we stopped at a grocery store to get some seafood, and then purchased amazing Jersey sweetcorn from a pickup truck parked by the side of the road. At the farm, we lounged in inflatable floaty donut things inside the pool, played bocce and horseshoes (see above!), napped, chilled out with a lively 22-month-old wunderkind, grilled the seafood and corn, and just generally had a low-key, perfect Saturday afternoon, seemingly a gazillion miles away from the city. Somewhere in there I even very gamely tried my first egg salad sandwich (do not get me started on my long-standing fear of mayonnaise). Maybe it was because of the day in general, but man, that was tasty.
The three of us had had something of a bender-y Friday, and so before we set off for Jersey, I steered us towards a nearby McDonalds. (I know, I know. I'm a terrible person.) There, McMuffin sandwiches were consumed with reckless abandon -- or at least as reckless and abandon-filled as three hungover people can muster at 10 on a Saturday morning in Chelsea. It gave us the necessary energy to start the trip, such that afterwards I felt compelled to proclaim, "I believe in hand-held sausage!"
Oh yeah. Mild sunburn aside, I'm going to sleep very well tonight. Back to ironic, detached judgment tomorrow.