Well, we're back from our quick jaunt. Let's see:
The Hamptons were gorgeous. I think they must install some sort of Manchurian Candidate like chip as soon as you cross the Village line, because I swear everytime I am out there the weather is ethereal.
Our hosts were wonderful -- as usual. And the Rabbit feasted on the clean air, trees, grass and beach. In fact, she cried terribly when we left this afternoon -- these terrible city parents dragging our kid back to the smog and soot of Gotham. We're now ensconced in our apartment, air conditioner roaring, sky grey, the streets reaking that special summer stink.
I had one celebrity sighting: Diane von Furstenberg and her hubbie Barry Diller in shorts, ratty T-shirt and walking some big dog. When you're worth a gazzilion dollars, you can dress this way in the Hamptons.
Now before you get too jealous -- let me describe the ride home on the train. Or the four trains -- the Rabbit refused to nap, kicked the chair (and the rainbow-attired man) in front of us for about 53 minutes. Whined. Cried because she was hungry. Cried because she was thirsty. Banged her head on the window. Three times. Licked The Prince's hands just after he returned to the bathroom on train one. Licked the platform while waiting for train two. No, she's not suffering from any kind of "special" condition.
But who cares. We picked blue fluffy flowers. Made sand castles. Drank fizzy lemonade in a garden near a fountain and white flowering bushes. Rode our bikes at dusk on a car-less road past windmills to get ice cream cones while fireworks roared overhead. An A+ weekend.
Now back to reality.