Where’s Carolyn?

So Peter says to me a couple of months ago, “Carolyn,” he says, “it’s been like three years since we took a vacation that didn’t involve motorcycles.”

I had no problem with this logic, but apparently my cutie wanted to lounge around and get sunburned and drink too much and see way too many people with ill-fitting swimsuits.

Thus, because I am oh so accommodating, we’re spending the week in Sarasota, Florida, on Siesta Key.

Though I’m already scoping out places to rent a bike or scooter for the day. šŸ˜‰

(Isn’t Peter the cutest ubernerd evaar? He says I can’t poke fun, though, since I’m blogging from my hiptop šŸ˜‰ )

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