Looks like the tourists are still here…

[Getting ready for dinner.]

[Wearing my most favorite Karen Zambos dress Rob bought me that the ferry bag handlers somehow managed to spear a hole through, on both sides.]

Today at lunch in Centre Street Bistro, a couple of grey-haired locals came in and did well to seriously ruin my mood. Rob was trying to take a sneaky picture of me when the man said, loudly, “Well. Looks like the tourists are still here.”

Seriously?

[Rob enjoying lunch nonetheless.]

After the lady sent her Diet Coke back because the straw still had some paper wrapper on it (“Whattooyou suppose this is? Mmmnnyyaw, yes, hm, doesn’t have legs, but you can never be too sure.”) and wasted too much energy glaring at me and my offensive boots, we left. But not before I stopped, turned, and waved back at them at the door.

Aside from Satan in the blue sweater, my chicken, avocado and pepper jack quesadilla might have been the best thing I’ve ever tasted. And the girl next to us eating alone while reading Sedaris totally rectified the situation.

[The fern jar Radigan tipped and drank out of during our wedding weekend.]

Rob claims he’s “resting his eyes” but I just heard him snore. Better go take that walk before it’s too late.

Touristly yours,

Carey + Robby