You know those stickers that some people have on their cars, that give them parking privileges at clubs or beaches? I’ve always coveted those—like, wouldn’t it be great to live in a place where you needed one of those stickers, and, better, wouldn’t it be great to have one of those stickers, and an old car to put it on, and a dog or two, and a beach to take them too? This is a city kid talking.
L.B. came back from the town hall today with two of those stickers—one for her and one for me, Deitch. I am now the official bearer of a sticker that allows the Volvo to park at several beaches up and down the North Fork. How did this happen? L.B. rocks. And so does Scout and Jotto. The beach rocks. You rock. Life is good. You should come.