I’m beginning to get used to having the husband work from home.
Yes, it’s a little annoying trying to tiptoe around the house and be quiet all day long…. but there are distinct advantages.
Advantage #1?
It’s harder for him to avoid the honey do list that’s been growing exponentially since we moved in 18 years ago.
No more long commutes from the office, no more grumpy, tired of fighting I-95 traffic on the way home husband.
When he clocks out? I can grab him.
This week it was for blind installation in the kitchen.
Which in the tight space over the sink wasn’t as easy as it sounds.
He got quite a workout.
Take that Jane Fonda.
As the hours wore on ( what… you thought it would be minutes? ) the brackets wouldn’t mount properly, and when they did, the blinds wouldn’t click into place.
Serious thought went into why they crashed to the ground every time you pulled them down.
Non OSHA approved climbing apparatus was used.
And curtain rod mounts had to be removed, reinstalled, removed, repositioned, removed again and yes, cursed. Repeatedly.
Want to frustrate your husband? Forget withholding sex…. make him hang curtains.
But finally it was done.
They moved up and down and stayed there.
If you’ve never tried this kind of blind, I highly recommend them. They’re attractive and block the hot sun while allowing filtered light to shine through.
I woke up on our last full day of vacation in Williamsburg, Virginia (Yes, we’re finally there!) cursing our second resort’s small bathrooms.
I mean… come on.
For a girl with big hair this is a very small space to make the magic happen.
And the shower?
One teeny tiny shelf!
I had to put the rest of my things on the floor.
We started the day at the husband’s favorite breakfast spot where he was now greeted with ”The guy who wants two plates of chipped beef on toast is here”.
And seeing that we’d had 2 full weeks of doing everything I wanted to do, I thought it prudent to throw the husband a bone and let him pick our last day’s activities.
As expected, that bit me in the ass.
He chose the Williamsburg Antique Mall… and let me tell you, that’s a whole lotta mall.
I have never in my life seen so much useless crap stuff in one place. It went on forever, aisle after aisle after aisle. The husband was in heaven.
Oh, there were some interesting things.
And some seriously hideous things.
It was hard, but I managed to pass on this quartz rooster head.
And the Christmas tree in a shoe.
But damn, at the one hour mark we’d only managed to cover a little corner of the place.
The building was so huge it had push button call stations for help because it was too damned long a walk back to the front to find a sales clerk.
Twohours in there was a drunken Santa….
And some of the money the husband used during the Vietnam War.
Threehours in there was a pair of wolves on skis…
The ice cube trays I cursed with every breath as a child….
And some questionable artwork complete with psychedelic chickens.
Fourhoursin there were Civil War era hats and a saleslady who gave me a piece of paper to write down the aisle number, the booth number, the case number and a description of each article we had questions about because no one ever remembers what was where. If you look in the upper left hand corner of the picture you’ll see my hand clutching it.
And no, I wasn’t going to give it to the husband …. I’m not stupid.
The husband?
Happier than the proverbial pig in shit.
Rusty tools….
Rusty tools everywhere!
I passed on more vintage chickens.
And wondered who this wide eyed Santa was going to poke with that…. that….
Whatever the heck that was.
At the four and a half hour mark I had to use the rest room.
Where I did indeed flush my hopes and dreams of ever leaving this place down the toilet.
There was definitely something for everyone.
Even if some of the price tags made you gasp.
Five hours in I told the husband I was too hungry to continue and we needed to go get some lunch.
Yeah.
My worst nightmare came true….
They had a cafe.
Where we had tiny overpriced sandwiches and frozen solid fruit to fortify us for more hours of antique shopping.
It was at this point I knew we’d never leave.
I was doomed.
Too late for that warning…. the husband has had it for years.
He was bound and determined to see every last item in this store or die trying.
And by this time I was happily planning his demise.
Yikes.
Paging Morticia Addams….
And holy crap.
Who in their right mind wants that hanging on their wall?
Six hours in I found a bug collection….
Some chicken humor…
And part of the line to check out.
These people took a number…. and have probably been waiting since June 13, 1976.
But the husband was still going strong.
And if I told you how many rusty old pesticide sprayers we have in the barn already? You’d fear for my safety.
Here’s proof positive there’s a magazine for everything.
And a painting that contains fish bones.
You’re welcome.
SEVEN HOURS in and we weren’t even 2/3’s of the way through.
I knew he wasn’t going to leave without buying something, but by then I’d reached my limit of utterly useless crap antique shopping.
I was on board with the old phone. It could have been fun in the barn…. when he builds that bar he keeps talking about.
You know, the bar he can’t build because he has too much utterly useless crap stuff in the way.
Eight hours in?
I was silently screaming FFS….just pick something and let’s go!
Or maybe I said it out loud, I can’t remember.
So there it is, the result of 8 hours of antique mall shopping.
A giant glass water bottle to add to the other 20 or so giant glass water bottles he currently has collecting cobwebs.
I love him.
I do.
And as long as I keep telling myself that I’ll be fine.
Sunday dawned bright and sunny and our visitors wanted to check out the Manor House at the Historic Powhatan Resort.
The smallest of our group thoroughly enjoyed it.
Especially when she found a pint sized door just her size.
Shame it wouldn’t open.
But the game room was a good second choice.
I had occasion to use the rest room this trip….
And immediately fell in love with a sink.
Is that wrong?
Sadly, it was Sunday….. and that meant it was time to change resorts.
When we time share travel and I’ve never been to the area? I usually choose 2 different resorts for our 2 week stays in case one of them is a dud. Of course we adored this first place and hated to leave….especially when Gracie found this under the bed when we were packing up.
Proof positive there were no dust bunnies.
But, ever onward.
I was slightly appeased when we drove across town, found the road that led to the new resort and saw this on the corner.
Ample tequila in walking distance is never a bad thing.
The Wyndham Kingsgate actually got higher reviews than the Powhatan we’d just left, so I was expecting something special.
On first glance?
It looked like a school.
And their pond was totally goose-less.
Strike one.
The closest thing they had to a Manor House was the activities center which consisted of a few pools, a gym, and numerous video game machines.
Strike two.
The buildings were much closer together with more units per building and though it was empty in this picture…. the parking lots were filled to capacity the whole time we were there and didn’t have reserved spots. We circled and hunted for a place every damned night.
Strike three and we hadn’t even been inside yet.
Thankfully the 2 bedroom/2 bath unit was pleasant…… albeit smaller than the first resort.
But the furniture was nice quality….
The kitchen well stocked….
And though the balcony was the bare minimum….
The king sized beds were comfortable.
I did take issue with the fact the master bathroom was smaller was than the guest…..
And while the shower was attractive it only had that one tiny shelf which barely fit a bar of soap. What’s a girl supposed to do with her shampoo, conditioner, bath gel, loofah, razor etc.?
Piss poor planning if you ask me.
And while the guest bath was also attractive, there wasn’t a heck of a lot more room to move around.
See?
There isn’t even an entire horse in the picture…. that’s small.
But we did get the second floor that my husband always has to have. Which Destiny was actively cursing when she offered to drag my suitcase up to it.
I believe her grimace is in direct proportion to it’s weight.
The girls relaxed while we put the food away…. and Gracie drew me something to put on the refrigerator.
I was thinking something like this would be more appropriate….
Now don’t get excited food people, these taverns were for touring not eating.
Shield’s Tavern was closed, but had something the husband wanted to photograph.
Men. I can’t explain them….
But the gardens out back were lovely.
And I enjoyed a stroll among the well tended shrubbery.
I think Edward Scissorhands would approve.
There were vegetable gardens…
And wreaths…
I even saw an old ball and chain gate closure.
And then down the road, we found Wetherburn’s Tavern.
Where we had a guide give us the history and a tour.
Taverns back in the day were far different from what you might think. Rooms were rented for private parties, balls were held in the great rooms, owners lived behind the kitchen and the upstairs served as a hotel.
Which rooms you rented depended on your social standing.
Up to 12 men bunked in here.
I like cozy, but not thatcozy.
Middle class families might sleep 8 in this room.
A private room? You had serious money.
Business deals were struck and government policies were made in rooms like these.
While the tavern keepers cranked out the meals in here….
That’s one high tech rotisserie right there.
Many taverns had their own smokehouses and livestock.
Which prompted a 30 minute conversation from my husband about being raised on a dairy farm.
An appropriate wreath was decorating their door as well.
We may not have seen any beer…. but it was still a tavern.
Live Oak trees dominate the landscape, spreading their limbs for decades on end….
And I was seriously enjoying the all natural Christmas decorations.
How clever is that?
And while I was wreath gazing….
The husband spotted the entrance to a lounge reserved for veterans and their families.
To be honest I dreaded going inside. My husband has the gift of gab every day of the year, but when surrounded by other servicemen and women? I’ve spent half my married life waiting for him to conclude conversations.
But there was free tea, coffee and hot cider…..
And thankfully, a veteran free room.
Of course he spotted the challenge coin cases which started a 45 minute long convo with the staff of volunteers….. but he added a coin of his own, which admittedly was rather nice.
An hour later? More decorations…
More wreaths…
Some cleverly trimmed shrubbery ….
And the silversmith’s shop…
We oohed and aahed and chatted with the man who ran it.
Did you know the phrase “put your money to work” dates from colonial times before the advent of paper currency? You were normally paid in silver, and instead of having bags of the stuff laying around your home…. you took it to the local silversmith who melted it down and made you a fabulous coffee urn or tea set. Your money was “put to work” and you got to flaunt your wealth to visitors. A win, win situation.
Many of his beautiful pieces were for sale in the shop next door…. but the husband wasn’t thrilled with the idea of me spending his hard earned silver to bring some home.
So we strolled.
And were amazed to learn some of these nice little homes were still privately owned.
Who in the world would want to live in the middle of a tourist attraction?
But more importantly…
Where do I find a peacock for next year’s Christmas wreath?
There aren’t too many timeshare resorts that have a Manor House…
But ours did.
And for guests….
The doors were wide open.
So before even finding our condo, we explored.
She was a charming old girl.
And fully decked out for Christmas.
Yes, there was even some funky chicken portraiture.
Ya gotta love that.
Traditional Williamsburg colors took center stage.
And board games were set up on various tables.
It really was quite lovely.
And I certainly wouldn’t mind having a meal or two here.
But we were burning daylight…
So, needing liquid refreshment….
We left the Manor House and were pleased to find a restaurant/bar on the property.
Not all resorts have this, so it was a plus.
The friendly bartender introduced the husband to a local beer, and we ordered some appetizers to test the menu.
French Onion Soup for the other half…. which was absolutely horrendous. Croutons instead of French Bread, over salted broth and a glob of gelatinous cheese.
Blech.
My margarita was made with cheap mix and even cheaper tequila…. and the cheesy crab dip? Tasteless, as well as crabless. I couldn’t find a single piece.
Needless to say we passed on ordering dinner there. (Sorry Martin, that’s all the food pics you’ll get today.)
You had 2 days off in between trips… and I threw in some Bambi pics as well. Are we good?
Good!
I admit I might have gone a little overboard with the Williamsburg, Virginia vacation photos this time…. like 3,089 pics overboard.
So sue me.
It was a fabulous trip, a marvelous Christmas and a wonderful place to explore. What can I say? When I’m old and feeble I’ll enjoy looking back on them all. (If I can remember why there are so many pictures of rocks…. and who that strange man is of course.)
Time to fasten your seat belts and loosen your pants!
The trip starts now.
Okay… but fair warning, that may not be until June.
Not wanting to put the miles and wear and tear on my car, we rented one. Well, I rented one. A mid size SUV like I always do… but when we arrived at the lot, they didn’t have any and had to upgrade us to luxury.
Cool beans!
We could pick the Audi or the Infiniti.
So what did my husband pick?
The Chevy Suburban.
Which happens to be the biggest, thirstiest, most annoying lumbering behemoth vehicle ever made. A nightmare to park. A horror show for short people like me to board. A useless third row seat we didn’t need and couldn’t figure out how to fold down. Gas stations? We dreaded the mere sight of them after a few days. So why did my spouse choose it?
Because it was big.
And he’s a man.
Enough said.
Our trip from Maine started out like this:
With buckets of the same for the first few states.
When we were nearing Hartford, Connecticut it let up, but we hit road construction….
And this rather precarious way of shoring up of the highway made me cringe.
I guess I should be glad they didn’t use duct tape, but still.
Next up was my least favorite part of the trip….
New York City.
Don’t get me wrong, I was born and raised in New Jersey… I can hang. But riding shotgun with my (leadfooted, 2 centimeters from the car in front of us, switch lanes like it’s the Indy 500) husband…. in the Black Brontosaurus?
Would test Ironman’s nerves.
Though I can honestly say it’s the only time in my life I’m thankful for bumper to bumper traffic.
Reduce speed?
I don’t think that’s possible.
I’d post some great pics of our trip over the famous George Washington bridge, but the husband always takes the upper truck level…. so basically this was my view:
But here’s one peek through the fog.
After the bridge? It’s New Jersey…
And the swamps they built the Meadowlands on.
If you’ve ever wondered where Tony Soprano and his boys dumped the bodies?
It would be here.
Oil refineries aside, you have to admit that the foul, smoggy New Jersey air does make for a dramatic sky.
Onward through the evening we drove, with the husband choosing our route. If you know me…. you know I’m type A and like to plan. Letting him pick a spot for us to spend the night was torture, but I sucked it up and endured.
I endured him picking a random town in Delaware because he liked the name, Red Lion.
Did Red Lion, Delaware have any hotels you ask?
No.
It did not.
And trust me, we drove around for almost an hour trying to find one even though I Googled it and came up empty. We did however find this:
A Christmas extravaganza house that was blocking traffic.
I can barely keep 2 reindeer lit… WTH?
After admitting defeat, the husband drove another 40 minutes to Dover, Delaware and pulled into the first Holiday Inn he saw.
I had my doubts when I saw the lounge was decorated in early bordello. Yes… satin furniture and rhinestone encrusted mirrors.
Thankfully our room was toned down from that…
But it did have some interesting features.
Mainly, the lighting.
Is it me?
Or did this over the bathroom sink fixture look like deer hooves?
Come on…
There’s no reasonable Martha Stewart explanation for that.
And while this corner lamp reminded me of my mother and her pull down hair dryer of the 1960’s…..
It was these over the bed reading lamps that were a little too proctology/gynecology themed for my taste.
And don’t get me started on the art work.
Really, don’t.
What the…. what?
So ends day one.
(And before you start screaming Martin…. road trips with my husband consist of a McDonalds lunch eaten in the car doing 90 mph and a perfectly horrible turkey dinner at a Bob Evans next to the hotel late that night. Neither were photo worthy!)
As you’ve probably guessed… (Or if you hadn’t? You should have.) we’re currently off on another adventure.
And have been for the last 11 days.
Yes, our annual Christmas vacation.
No holiday stress. No decorating. No cooking. No family drama. We leave it all behind, and have since December 2015.
Why?
Because I used to be Christmas crazy.
I spent a fortune, I decorated everything that stood still…. (yes, I’m ashamed to say there was even a tree on my toilet.)
I drove myself nuts finding the absolutely perfect gifts for people who didn’t appreciate it and cooked the absolutely perfect meal for family who couldn’t care less and always complained.
Maybe my mother dying was the catalyst. But in 2015 we took a trip to the Poconos…. had a blast, and never looked back.
Do I miss the beautiful live fir tree in the living room?
Yes.
I also miss all the crazy outside lights.
The well house…
The stone wall…
The funky alligator….
And reindeer who were annually buried up to their butts in white stuff.
The lights in the windows…
And on the bushes.
The sparkling balls on the table…
That caught the sun and turned our living room into a Christmas disco.
The running reindeer on the garage.
The ribboned garlands….
Yes, I miss it all.
But do I miss the 2 solid weeks of work it took to get everything set up (in the snow , ice and wind) and the solid week of work it took to take it all down (in sub zero temperatures with ice and wind) ?
No. I most definitely do not.
But rest assured I’m not totally Grinchy this year, I did put up a tree.
This trip? Williamsburg, Virginia until Dec. 30th. Meeting old friends and getting our geek on in a marvelous area filled with American history.
Colonial settlements? Check.
Revolutionary War? Check.
Civil War? Check.
I just hope 2 weeks is enough time.
And I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess there might be a few pictures to post when we get back.
Oh, don’t be so dramatic.
I should be done by …. June.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
