Back when Matt and I were living in Corpus Christi we dreamt of a fictional time when we'd be at an Ivy League cocktail party, wearing ties, drinking punch out of a bowl that had floating orange slices in it. Tonight we did just that. Unfortunately, we brought ourselves to the island, and life is not nearly as easy and breezy as we'd imagined (it's not all squash matches and pipe tobacco ... in fact, it's not even a little of either of those things). But at least we had the punch.
Good party. I sang.
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