Thanks for all the nice comments regarding the book thing. I will definitely be contacting each one of you who offered yourselves up for recipe-testing in the coming months, keeping in mind your geography and any preferences you've noted. I hope to be organized about this. We'll see. And, yes, the recipes will include metric conversions since the book will be distributed internationally. So, to all you Brits who offered help—yes, yes, yes!
The Cape was awesome last week with the family, minus that hideously hot day on Friday. I know I won't get any sympathy from all of you who had to sweat it out in a 105-degree brick oven of a city compared to my scenic-though-breezeless 99-degree coastal getaway. Still, take it from me: don't go to the bay side at low tide during a heat wave and expect any relief. The tidal flats just bake in the sun under those conditions and the shallow tidal pools are as warm as a bathtub, which may sound pleasant on this 69-degree evening, but are absolutely hideous when you're roasting in your own skin.
We waited it out for hours as the tide slowly came in, assuming that all the superheated sand was no match for the cold, cold water rushing in from the Atlantic depths. But no. The water was hot. HOT!!! Like a parched bedouin, I wandered for half an hour over those sandy flats and out to sea, waiting for the water to turn cold and/or reach my chin, preferably both, but it never did. When I finally looked back, I couldn't even see the shore I had walked out so far. I got a little freaked out, I'll admit, simmering in the middle of Cape Cod Bay all by myself like that. What if the water rushed in really fast and I was suddenly in over my head and had to swim the however many miles back to shore? I'm not a very strong swimmer. I probably couldn't do it before the tide went out again, which would then carry me further out to sea with the sharks and the tigers and only my own pee to keep me hydrated and no receptacle in which to capture said pee? (This is what I retained from Life of Pi.) And just when things were starting to go well! My last, dying words bubbling up to the water's surface would be: Curse you, Alanis Morrrrrissssseeetttttte... *bubble* *bubble*
Spoiler alert: I didn't die after all. But despite the fun, my vacation still did nothing to relax me. Apparently.