*insert wavy flashback lines here*
So, bright and early, Friday morning, TP and I packed our bags (me with a single backpack and him with an entire half-suitcase carry-on deal . . . holy role reversal, Batman!), hopped onto the Metro, and flew over jewel-like islands and into Portland, Maine. After short 15 minute cab ride down to the docks later, we trolled the streets for the Italian grocery store to stock up on some vittles, for the famous Amato's (apparently the birthplace of the "Italian sandwich"), for some bubble tea, and for some lohbstah (TP selected an ugly two-pounder). Here's Pinchy getting ready to wash some dishes:
We waited at the docks for the water taxi to pick us up and whisk us away to Cushing's Island. It was a gorgeous day so we didn't mind getting lost and going around half of the island TWICE before finally finding the house. We lugged our luggage out of the wheelbarrow we had been carting around, put our stuff away, and immediately headed out for a walk to the beach (all of 2 minutes away).
Upon our return, we spooked four deer who bounded into the woods at our approach. Two big 'uns, however, stood their ground and glared at us as we passed them by and entered the house. A few minutes later, I peeked outside again and saw that they had not moved. Such bossy deer.
For dinner, TP attempted to wrassle Pinchy who, with his thick, meaty tail, was thrashing violently against the slate sink base any time TP got near him. Except for the fact that Pinchy didn't fall onto the floor, it was a scene right out of Annie Hall. TP managed to scoop Pinchy up into a pot, toss him in a bigger pot, and boil the rascal until he turned from muddy brown to bright red.
Ding ding ding! Dinner is served!