I took this photo of my nephew Ty last week on the final evening of our vacation to Florida. Tomorrow, I start my new job. And so tonight, the sun sets (get it?!) on a brief era of copious free time.

Prior to the vacation, I complained semi-openly that for the price of seeing fake Germany at Disney's Epcot, I could go see the real Germany in... well, Germany. That may well be true, but there's absolutely nothing like riding Tower of Terror or Rockin' Roller Coaster with 10+ family members. (And I doubt my 8 and 10-year-old nephews would get a kick out of Bavaria.) We rounded out the Disney half of the trip with a few relaxing days at Siesta Key, and now I'm refreshed and ready to go tomorrow.

My bike pannier is packed to the brim with office necessities, including an assortment of toiletries, my Bloodshot Records mug, a spare rain jacket and, of course, salt and peanut butter. Lunch for the week is cooked and in the fridge. Snacks are aplenty in the pantry. And Spencer is scheduled with a dog walker on most days.

Is that everything? Perhaps I've gone overboard, but that's sometimes where excitement leads. Having spent the last few months essentially working from home, the thought of not having constant access to my fridge and bathroom made me nervous. Thus, I feel like I must have everything.

Let's do this thing.

When a friend invited me to her house in New Jersey for a weekend trip, I accepted without much thought. I needed a break from my 60-hour work week, and New Jersey was the excuse I needed. But who knew that the Garden State would turn out to be my summer paradise? I'm just as surprised as you are. I've driven through New Jersey a dozen times or more but have never noticed anything worth stopping for on the Turnpike. It's not surprising considering my New Jersey knowledge consisted of the following:

1. New Jersey music obsessions include Bon Jovi. 2. It's Guido central. See "My New Haircut." 3. There is a disproportionate amount of Georgetown students from New Jersey. 4. New York is better.

And the list goes on. Still, the allure of a break from DC life was stronger than my half-joking prejudices.

Being far from home and family, I am easily won over by any situation involving a.) family togetherness or b.) motherly love, so spending time with not one but TWO Italian families was a micro paradise. I was showered with love and attention from heavily accented and heavily tanned women while their own children, my friends, looked on. Is it strange that this is part of what made my vacation great?

I also adored the beach. I grew up in Northern California where the beaches are plentiful but hard to access. Drive over a mountain to a cliff, find parking, descend cliff via shoddy stairs, sheepishly remove sweatshirt, and boldly enter frigid waters. When we went to the beaches of the Jersey Shore, we drove on FLAT terrain, pulled into a parking lot, and walked on FLAT ground to the sand only seconds away. My preference for the East Coast just keeps growing...

Seaside Heights boardwalk

The nearby Seaside Heights boardwalk was a scene straight from the 1980s. The signs, the colors, and sometimes even the fashion. Everyone, young and old, had tattoos. And more importantly, everyone had a pack of cigarettes next to their SPF 4 sun tan lotion. I had my SPF 50 ready to go.

I'm back from Jersey now with a new appreciation for the so-called Armpit of America. "When in Rome, do as the Romans do." I didn't get a tattoo, but I got a decent tan, smoked a cigar, and hung out with Italian Americans. That's a great vacation, even if it was only a weekend.