I try not copy and paste things from Facebook very often….
And I know pandemics shouldn’t be taken lightly, but damn.
These reactions from the CDC to popular music lyrics made me laugh so hard I actually snorted.
Monthly Archives: March 2020
Colonial Williamsburg…. where River visits the insane asylum and is lucky to get out alive.
On my list of must see places was the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum. She was an early collector of the form and I’d heard tell the place was filled to the brim with treasures.
What I didn’t know was the building’s original use.
Half museum, half insane asylum.
Color me intrigued.
Well, that doesn’t look at all comfortable.
But at least there’s a cushion.
*gulp*
This certainly gives new meaning to the term “time out”.
While revolting….
I have to say the peek into early treatment of mental illness was fascinating.
Yikes.
Seems like there was a whole lot of restraint … and not much actual treatment.
It was about this time the husband told me he read about men committing their misbehaving wives for little more than disagreeing with their authority.
Uh oh.
Early shock therapy looked rather primitive.
Am I the only one who’s reading “restored” as irreparably brain damaged?
One can only imagine the horrors those poor people suffered at the hands of their supposed healers.
Though they did have some pretty snazzy syringes.
On a lighter note, the husband was tickled to see one of these on display.
He bought a whole box of these slides at a yard sale years ago. They’re pretty valuable as a few of them show pre Civil War life with slaves… but he’s never found the actual lantern for sale.
If you ever see one? Let me know….
It would make a great birthday gift and rise above his usual level of rusty crap.
Day 13….. Colonial Williamsburg, the Rockefellers and Bassett Hall
The day started with biscuits and gravy for me and two plates of chipped beef on toast for the husband. The waitress thought he was kidding when he asked for a second helping… but no, he was serious.
Technically no, that’s made with hamburger.
But I digress…
Since the weather was beautiful that day we headed back over to Colonial Williamsburg to finish exploring.
First up, Bassett Hall. Home to John D. Rockefeller Jr and his wife Abby Aldrich Rockefeller. I was completely unaware that the Rockefellers were the ones responsible for the restoration of Colonial Williamsburg and the idea of opening it to the public.
For a wonderful history of how and why, watch this:
Seeing the interior of the house meant taking the tour…
And this distinguished gentleman was our guide. He was a font of knowledge as well as legally blind.
It was a lovely home.
Comfortable….
And not nearly as grand as their other residences.
They relaxed here.
Didn’t entertain socially.
And enjoyed time with family.
In their eyes it was a country home.
And hey….. there was a chicken over the mantle, so maybe it was.
I’m sure Abby didn’t spend much time in here….
But I liked the funky sinks….
And the high tech for the time fridge.
Next to the kitchen was the servants quarters…
Which didn’t look too bad either.
Done with the tour….
We began to roam the grounds….
But not before my husband managed to start a political discussion with our guide. I imagine they’re instructed not to engage…. and he remained as neutral as Switzerland. Very diplomatic.
The gardens were a bit bare since it was December.
But the shrubbery was impressive.
And who wouldn’t love a private tea house in their backyard?
How sweet is that!
We happily strolled around….
Enjoying the beautiful day…
And felt like Rockefellers.
Minus the large sums of cash and thinking hey…
That garage would make a pretty nice house in itself.
Day 12…. otherwise known as Christmas.
So we got up bright and early to make the almost 5 hour drive down to North Carolina.
Required Christmas selfie.
And as we were walking down the sidewalk of our resort it struck me…..
I might not be the only one who cursed my husband’s choice of the behemoth rental car.
It was an uneventful trip.
But we saw lots of cotton.
Really, a whole lot of cotton.
And absolutely nothing else. Nothing for miles and miles… except cotton… and I was starting to sweat the steadily dropping level of gasoline.
Behemoths be thirsty.
I also took issue with Apple maps when the GPS put us in the middle of a National Forest and told us to turn around.
WTF?
When the rental beast was pretty much running on fumes, we finally found a service station to fill it…. and us, since we skipped breakfast. The only choice was Subway, where I ordered a rotisserie chicken wrap and managed to leak half of the sauce on my blouse resulting in a large greasy stain.
My first words upon arrival in N.C. weren’t “Merry Christmas!” but….. “Let me raid your closet.”
My second words were “What you would like to drink?” as I unpacked my carton of holiday cheer.
Destiny chose a bottle to match her sweater, because coordination is everything.
We gave them our gifts…. and Gracie liked the books.
Though I think she liked the pig a little bit more.
We spent time with our daughter of the heart’s step children, John being home on leave from the Army.
As you can see they aren’t young enough to be hers…. because like me, she married an older man. Which her mother thinks I’m responsible for and never lets me forget, but hey.
It worked for me.
An old Marine Corps buddy of the husband’s came with us…. and it was a laid back country Christmas with lots of love and laughter.
A few highlights:
My bartending skills were highly rated.
And strange toys were questioned.
Does a llama really need to shake her booty?
But more importantly, why was this horror voted toy of the year in Australia?
Watch the bizarre commercial that looks like a Saturday Night Live skit and decide for yourself.
Numerous pictures were taken.
Some with prominently placed bows. (These may have been alcohol induced)
Rick posed with his namesake shirt.
Dogs with serious underbites begged for treats from a wonderful brown sugar glazed ham dinner I completely devoured and forgot to photograph.
Sorry Martin.
Blame the carton of alcohol, not me.
Animated discussions of politics took place….. (Which might also have been alcohol induced)
But my husband smiled wider and laughed more than he has in a while, and that made my heart full.
Then before we were ready, it was time to say goodbye.
Hugs and tears….
And we were back on the road.
For the longest almost 5 hour trip ever.
The only bright spot?
This house…
That gave new meaning to the term holiday decorating.
Truly an extravaganza.
I love my town…. Part 6.
Time for an update on the stories making the news on my town’s Facebook page.
Traffic jams are awful, no two ways about it…..
But in my town?
They’re not always bumper to bumper.
And then there was this:
No, damn it! I did not.
We’ve lived here over 17 years and the only moose I’ve seen was a dead one on I-95.
Trotting right down Main Street?
Another missed opportunity.
And finally, there was this:
My first thought was the zombie fish apocalypse had begun… and I started to get a little nervous.
But it turns out a bald eagle was fishing the river, dropped his sturgeon while flying and decided to munch on it in situ.
Because the thought of zombie fish taking over my blog?
Not cool.
Yorktown waterfront…. a pub, good food, some feral cats and a view.
In case you haven’t already guessed, there was not a single wine filter gift to be had in the entire state of Virginia…. so the only thing left to do was drown my sorrows at the Yorktown Pub.
This unassuming little place got great reviews and had been recommended to us by numerous people so we gave it a try.
While it’s definitely a no frills local hangout….
The riverfront views were lovely.
The feral cats were friendly….
Plentiful, and well fed by the bar owners and staff.
And while the cocktail list was basic?
The drinks were tasty, potent and cheap.
What more can a girl ask?
Good food.
The husband’s weird combination of chicken fingers and mixed veggies looked odd but he was happy with it…. and my fried shrimp were quite honestly the best I’ve had in years. Fresh, juicy, and perfectly cooked with a light crisp batter. Add homemade tartar sauce, some marvelous fries and another cocktail?
And River was a happy camper.
Long live beer diversity!
And cheap meals.
Since the sun was setting…
We took a stroll along the water.
Hand in hand…
Enjoying the scenery…
And the non traditional ways we choose to spend the holidays.
Different places.
Different sights.
Different sounds.
Different experiences.
And never a dull moment.
Random ridiculousness.
I live in Maine.
We have terrible roads due to the high water content underneath and a never ending cycle of freezing and melting.
Frost heave is a separate season here….
And the potholes can be large enough to swallow your car.
So this made me chuckle the other day….
Mainers.
We’re an odd bunch.
With funny license plates.
I also ran across a strange product:
Are slipping nerd glasses really that much of a problem?
Apparently it is.
Day 11….love notes, breakfast, a liquor store and last minute Christmas shopping in Colonial Williamsburg.
The eleventh day of our vacation started at our timeshare resort condo…
Where I found this:
A note from the grandchild of our hearts.
Sorry… but there’s no way better way to start the day than that.
Although biscuits and gravy with home fries comes close.
We had a full day of Christmas gift shopping ahead of us and needed hearty sustenance. And in the south?
That includes the options of scrapple, fried catfish, grits or bologna and eggs.
The husband’s utterly favorite breakfast is chipped beef on toast and he rarely finds it in Maine… so when we stumbled on the Southern Pancake and Waffle House in Williamsburg?
He wanted to go every morning…. which we pretty much did from then on.
But hey, there were chickens in every window so how could we lose?
Our first stop that day was a liquor store in anticipation of our upcoming Christmas Day in North Carolina.
For future reference…. the first way to tell you’re in a liquor store in the south?
There’s a still.
Still searching for that silly wine filter, I thought we could try Merchant’s Square…. which is the shopping section of Colonial Williamsburg I couldn’t get the husband to check out the previous week.
As with all areas there, it was lovely.
Filled with interesting high end shops… like this interior design place.
Giant double diamond ring light fixture anyone…?
We happily strolled aroiund, ducking in and out of the stores with all the other desperate Holy crap it’s Christmas Eve and I don’t have a gift! shoppers.
Naturally I had to buy a souvenir tee shirt –
Truer words were ne’er spoke.
And towards late afternoon when my stomach started grumbling?
This happened.
Someone saw the husband’s Marine Corps hat, said Semper Fi, and they were off….
On a 38 minute long conversation about who was stationed where, when and with whom.
Yes. I timed it….
While he talked?
I walked.
Agreed wholeheartedly with a sign.
And explored a little more…
Of the colonial town.
And hey, if you’re going to dress up in period costume and stand on the sidewalk?
Don’t give me the stink eye when I take your picture.
Turning back around hoping the other half had finished talking…
I saw snow.
Granted it wasn’t very much, but it surprised me to see any at all.
The ice skating rink surprised me as well.
In Maine we wait for ponds to freeze over.
In Virginia they just build one… and how they keep it frozen in 60 degree temperatures is a mystery to me.
A little drip now and then….
Leaking roof saga continued.
Winter is the worst possible time in Maine for your roof to spring a leak … so of course, that’s exactly what’s happened.
Remember when I said I’d cringe every time it rains?
That’s the sound of me cringing.
It poured the other day… and so did our ceiling.
So much so I had to add another pan.
Which drove the husband nuts when he came home…. and because he’s a man and had to do something?
Yeah. He decided to climb up into the attic to see where it was leaking.
Naturally this isn’t as easy as climbing a set of stairs… because no.
Here at Casa River, we like a challenge.
The den closet, home to an overflow of the husband’s useless crap treasure.
(Yes, he collects old wooden hangers. Don’t you?)
Half of one side had to be emptied and strewn all over the room….
Because the only way to access the crawl space we call an attic is to remove all the shelving and climb up a hole at the top of the closet.
A design paradigm we curse the builders for quite often.
It’s a bit of a nightmare getting up there.
And no, the husband didn’t appreciate me making a Kodak moment out of the experience.
He wasn’t thrilled that I stuck my head up through the hole to offer advice either.
Men. There’s no pleasing you.
But look… I found an antenna from the 1970’s!
Did I mention there’s no actual floor up there? Just a few scattered pieces of particle board that break when you kneel on them.
So after scuttling around like a crab and lying on his back…
And pointing his flashlight near the section of the roof of the addition you can’t access from the crawl space, he did find where the water was coming in. Halfway up the peak, and running down the beams…. which we can find absolutely no reason for.
Doesn’t this look like fun?
Especially since there’s not a damned thing you can do about it until spring when you can rip off the shingles to find the bad spot.
Meanwhile I’ll have this lovely and ever expanding wart to look at.
And every time I do?
I hear a cash register.
Ka-ching!
Tail end of the Yorktown driving tour, some fluffy butts, an elusive Christmas gift…. and late night food.
The driving tour of the Yorktown, Virginia battlefield was a strange one and meandered all over the place.
Through the woods.
And past open fields with miles of split rail fencing.
Seriously, it went on forever.
There were creeks and swamps.
And every now and then, a sign.
We saw plenty of fluffy white butts.
And they roamed at will.
We even made friends with a few.
This little beauty had no fear and sidled right up next to my window.
Up our way that would be dangerous.
But this was protected land and they knew it.
Near the end of the tour we saw something a bit odd.
A buck with a funky horn.
And while I can’t say I’ve ever had to tote a rack around (on my head anyway) this did look a little strange.
So this was December 23rd and the husband had spent the last 48 hours trying to talk me into driving down to North Carolina for Christmas Day. When we’re on a trip for the holidays? We usually let it pass without much fanfare. No exchange of gifts, maybe just a special meal. But since our daughter of the heart came to visit with us those few days… he was bound and determined we would celebrate with her this time.
While I normally would have agreed, she had a slew of family members staying the night in a one bathroom house and I didn’t want to stress her anymore than necessary. We checked a few hotels in the area but all of them were full. Husband wanted to go for the day…. but it was a 4+ hour ride down and a 4+ hour ride back. Almost 9 hours on the road is not my idea of a fun Christmas… but he wore me down. Which meant we had to spend the rest of that day (and night) shopping for gifts because I wouldn’t go empty handed.
And leave it to me to decide on the one gift that was utterly unfindable on the 23rd of December. And believe me we tried.
Yup.
I had to give her this.
Because she loves wine…. but can no longer drink it because it gives her headaches.
I was going to give her the gift of wine back! Or die trying.
Which we nearly did.
We tried every single freakin’ store for 150 miles. Large malls and small gift shops. Specialty stores and wine outlets. Big chains and obscure holes in the hall. We walked, we searched, we cursed. (Okay, maybe that was just me.) We shopped until we almost dropped. Everyone had heard of it… very few carried it. And if they did carry it? They were sold out by the time we got there.
Do you know how aggravating it is to look for something for 7 hours straight and then be told by a laughing salesclerk, “Oh, we just sold the last one 10 minutes ago. You should have been quicker.” That woman is lucky she still has her tongue…. because if I could have reached the butcher knife on the other side of the counter? She’d be laughing with a bloody stump right now.
And if that isn’t bad enough?
I didn’t find the perfect gift, but I did find this:
No.
No…
Noooo!
This is wrong on so many levels … I can’t even. What twisted soul thought, “How can I take a perfectly good candy and ruin it beyond all measure? I know… I’ll add Kale!”
All over the world children are weeping. I hope you’re satisfied Archie.
At 9:30 that night the husband was screaming Uncle…. and grumbling about food. We were both too exhausted to care at that point and stopped at the first place on the way back to the resort. An Outback Steakhouse.
I’m not a lover of chain restaurants and hadn’t been to one of these in 20 years.
But $5 Boozy Cherry Limeades sounded pretty good….
And for that price? I had 3.
Their Blue Cheese Wedge salad left a lot to be desired…. and the husband’s French Onion soup was only fair.
But his filet was blood rare and he made short work of it.
My grilled filet and shrimp skewer combo was filling…. and I’ll leave it at that.
There’s a reason we’re not chain restaurant fans, and if we don’t go back for another 20 years?
I’m okay with that.
River's world..... 