I see seashells by the seashore.

I recently returned from Cape May, NJ, for a week down the shore. Not at the beach, down the shore. It's a peculiarity of the New Jersey dialect that we say this, but this is the way things are said. And we wait on line, thank you.

It's been a busy week; the other day my cousin and I went to the New York Renaissance Faire, where we frolicked about in costume for a day, showing off our shoddy british accents. I had a ball, there, as I always do, because being a history nerd and a lover of fun clothing, RenFaires (as they are known) combine all that I love in the world. In fact I wrote an essay or two about the experience.

The next day, cuz and I drove down to Cape May and began the beach extravaganza. It was nice out for the first few days, with beautiful sunsets and great sunshine. Cape May is lovely because it has so much history (it was like America's first resort) and it isn't as sketchy as other bits of the shore, like, say, Seaside Heights. I also enjoy Cape May because it has an old fashioned boardwalk and is a throwback to the romanticized mental images of a true shore vacation.

The best part of my trip, though, was PARASAILING. We went through East Coast Parasail and my cousins and I were brought aloft. It's amazing how quiet it is when one is up there; it's like there's nothing at all around, 350 feet up. At one point, a dolphin was sighted underneath us, meandering its way, oblivious to the two girls suspended high above.

And now I shall go collapse and start packing for school tomorrow!

Parasailing: as awesome as it looks.