Living on Vashon is the ultimate fishbowl experience. Not only does one have their DNA stuck to everyone else's, one tends to bump into certain minor luminaries as a matter of mundane course.

Tonight, for example, I attended the 7pm performance of the Vashon Chorale, of which I am a member. I did not sing because I was uncertain if I'd be up for it after surgery. The show was beautiful, and afterward, we all went to The Hardware Store for a private dinner and drinks.

In inimitable Vashon style, my table wound up being me, a coworker, someone from the bass section, and Booth Gardner. He brought us an orchid. Later, he left and his wife joined us. She was a lively conversationalist and had many helpful things to say. She wore exquisite handmade leather shoes, baby blue and navy scrollwork patterned and quite lovely.

Affinity diagram, anyone? Six degrees of separation? My former governor goes to my Weight Watchers group and shows up at my after-concert table. It's a small island. Shrink-to-fit Vashon, here for your desport and play.

Ouch, the Pinot hurts! Time for bed, and then to work tomorrow. Jenn probably has a worse headache than me, though. I will laugh at her in the morning.