Still at the Vineyard

There's a song called "The Summer Place" by Fountains of Wayne that I like- any song that starts with the lyric "She's been afraid of the Cuisinart since 1977" can't be all bad. The song recounts the ups and downs of the family summer home and ends with the bittersweet line, "The injuries fade but the memories last a lifetime."

I understand this song. It's the morning of our second full day here and my fight or flight reflex is in full gear. I'm not much of a fighter, so I'm trying to flee in some fashion.

I'm not really sure why I feel this way. Nothing bad has happened and I don't anticipate anything awful on the horizon, aside from dinner for twenty tonight, and that can be ameliorated somewhat with the proper application of adult beverages. And yet when I went out for my bike ride this morning, it took nearly 20 miles for my head to clear. I am, I think as much as anyone else, comfortable in my own skin, but not today.

I think there are people my age who are able to be around large family gatherings with no baggage, but I'm not one of them. Blame it on my not being able to articulate what felt bad or on my burying whatever was bothering me instead of dealing with it, but after nearly 40 years of coming here, there's just too much accumulated muck for me to take a step without my foot getting stuck in it.

That being said, it's been quite beautiful here. I went to the beach yesterday and lay out in the full sun from 11AM until 2PM, just the way dermatologists tell to. And of course, because I diligently used sunscreen, most of my skin is fine except for oddly-shaped blobs and patches where I guess I applied less than the circumstances call for.

The biking has been fantastic, in part because the Obamas are down the road and all the traffic is blocked off from the other side of the island. Said roadblock is the main topic of conversation around here, because if there's one thing rich vacationers hate, it's detours. You'd think that having to detour and drive an extra 15 minutes would simply provide a little local color to one's vacation, but no, it's a nightmare.

So we leave tomorrow. Hopefully the Obama's are leaving earlier in the day, because if there's one thing I hate it's having to wait to check in for a flight behind the president. It's just a nightmare.