Paint the town: BYO Flounce.

by goatlove

Kate, Morgan, and I decided to have a dance party a week and a bit ago.  The dress code: flouncy (naturally).  So I grabbed my dancin’ shoes and flounciest flounce and headed to the Island.  Got to meet Kate’s bees when I got there!

Kate whipped up some oh-so-mouth-watering brownies… FROM SCRATCH.

Morgan made pizza!  This was the third time I’ve encountered anchovies in my life, the second time I’ve seen them since moving to Maine, and the first time I have actually put one in my mouth.

And, of course, there was Prince and dancing and whiskey and general shenanigans (including a brief but heartfelt Chi-burber Sox vs. Cubs show-down).  And ALRIGHT, Shak has got it goin’ on.  There, I’ve said it.  I’m not ready to admit to being converted, though, and I still stand behind Lady Gaga any day of the week.

All in all, it was one helluva night.  Goal for next time: get more butts in the seats… or since it’s a dance party, tootsies on the floor boards.  AKA: we need more friends!

I spent the next day relaxing on the island.  Maybe it was the intoxicating and salty smell of dried dancing-sweat on my body, or the warm and fuzzy taste of night-before whiskey on my tongue.  Or chocolate-chip-cherry-walnut pancakes.  Or having a hug quota so filled up that I had to put some in storage.  Whatever it was, I was having one of those mornings where everything just felt… right.

I drove up Cadillac Mountain and had a difficult time taking in the view without screaming and laughing with the release of emotions I can’t articulate (I’ll admit I was crying too… but only because of the ghastly wind!).  Is this truly where I’m living?!

Heart filled with ocean views… check.

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