Tag Archives: photos

Colonial Williamsburg… Shield’s and Wetherburn’s Taverns

 

 

Now don’t get excited food people, these taverns were for touring not eating.

 

 

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Shield’s Tavern was closed, but had something the husband wanted to photograph.

 

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Men. I can’t explain them….

 

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But the gardens out back were lovely.

 

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And I enjoyed a stroll among the well tended shrubbery.

 

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I think Edward Scissorhands would approve.

 

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There were vegetable gardens…

 

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And wreaths…

 

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I even saw an old ball and chain gate closure.

 

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And then down the road, we found Wetherburn’s Tavern.

 

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Where we had a guide give us the history and a tour.

 

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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.

 

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Which rooms you rented depended on your social standing.

 

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Up to 12 men bunked in here.

I like cozy, but not that cozy.

 

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Middle class families might sleep 8 in this room.

 

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A private room? You had serious money.

 

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Business deals were struck and government policies were made in rooms like these.

 

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While the tavern keepers cranked out the meals in here….

 

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That’s one high tech rotisserie right there.

 

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Many taverns had their own smokehouses and livestock.

 

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Which prompted a 30 minute conversation from my husband about being raised on a dairy farm.

 

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An appropriate wreath was decorating their door as well.

 

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We may not have seen any beer…. but it was still a tavern.

Colonial Williamsburg…. the Apothecary Shop, the Capitol and the Gaol.

 

Still strolling Duke of Gloucester Street, we found the apothecary shop and it’s mistress in the middle of recounting some 18th century cures.

 

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Trust me when I say you should be glad you weren’t sick in the 18th century.

 

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Many towns and villages didn’t have doctors and these pseudo pharmacists were as close to modern medicine as many people could get.

 

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There were some interesting drawings….

 

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And a back room were the cures were administered. Though why that fellow in the corner needs a hat, I’m sure I don’t know…

Next up was the reconstructed Capitol building.

 

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The birthplace of American government if you will.

 

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The flag flying at the entrance meant it was open for tours…

 

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So we settled in to wait for the guide.

 

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With the husband admiring the rather odd gutterless drainage system.

 

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Which was really more of a moat.

 

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If you’re interested, the history of the Capitol is here.  I’ll spare you the retelling and just post a few interior shots.

 

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Local representatives met here, first to report to the crown….and then to form a new government.

 

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The speaker had a throne… make of that what you will.

 

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Here are the rooms our founding fathers formed the basis of the country we know today.

 

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One can only imagine how they’d react to our current state of affairs.

 

 

I’d say that’s pretty close.

 

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There was also a court where grievances and victims of crimes were given justice.

 

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To me, the nicest part of the tour was when our guide proudly told us that he had helped officiate over the swearing in of 250 new American citizens on that day…. a 300 year old tradition lovingly continued on site.

 

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Leaving the Capitol, we found the gaol, pronounced jail.

 

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Which didn’t look too bad at first.

 

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Until I realized that wasn’t the gaol.

 

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The history of the gaol is here.

 

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Many men and women were held here awaiting trial, and it doesn’t look like that would have been too comfortable.

 

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The cells reminded me of horse stables.

 

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And yes…

 

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That is what you think it is.

 

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Minus Mr. Whipple and his Charmin.

 

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(We’ll visit the Public Hospital… read, lunatic asylum... another day)

 

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The sound of that large door slamming shut?

Perfectly eerie.

The administration office was much nicer.

 

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And it’s natural wreaths, nicer still.

 

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All it needed was…

 

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The clip clop of the carriage horses hooves to remind me how we could have been traveling.

Bad husband.

Bad.

 

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Strolling Colonial Williamsburg…. The Liberty Lounge and peacocks.

 

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I’m not sure you could find a more charming place to spend the day than Colonial Williamsburg.

 

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History aside….

 

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It’s just a perfectly lovely town.

 

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Did you know the pineapple is a symbol of hospitality?

Learn why here.

 

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Live Oak trees dominate the landscape, spreading their limbs for decades on end….

 

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And I was seriously enjoying the all natural Christmas decorations.

 

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How clever is that?

And while I was wreath gazing….

 

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The husband spotted the entrance to a lounge reserved for veterans and their families.

 

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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.

 

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But there was free tea, coffee and hot cider…..

 

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And thankfully,  a veteran free room.

 

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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.

 

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An hour later? More decorations…

 

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More wreaths…

 

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Some cleverly trimmed shrubbery ….

 

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And the silversmith’s shop…

 

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We oohed and aahed and chatted with the man who ran it.

 

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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.

 

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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.

 

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So we strolled.

 

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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?

 

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But more importantly…

Where do I find a peacock for next year’s Christmas wreath?

 

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Colonial Williamsburg… Duke of Gloucester Street

 

Done with the Governor’s Palace, we headed to the main thoroughfare.

 

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Colonial Williamsburg is a town, like any other.

 

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If all the other towns were full of beautifully restored 18th century historic buildings that is.

 

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George Wythe was Thomas Jefferson’s mentor.

So, you know…. that kind of town.

 

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At the corner? The Bruton Parish Church, established in 1674…..

 

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Still an active Presbyterian presence…

 

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You can almost see George Washington walking amongst the stately old live oaks.

(Yes, he worshiped here.)

 

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Taking a left put us on Duke of Gloucester Street, the busiest section of town.

 

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Every house and business was decked out for Christmas….

 

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With the traditional natural fruit and greenery it’s become famous for.

Another carriage made it’s way by….

 

 

 

And as much as I wanted to take one…. the husband had no interest whatsoever.

 

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I mean, look at them…

They were just waiting for me to climb aboard.

 

 

But no. The husband had caught sight of this:

 

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And that was where we went next.

 

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Yay. More weapons…

 

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Okay, the collection was impressive as hell.

 

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And filled with various painful ways to kill people.

 

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And yes…

 

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The armory fellow was well versed and full of interesting facts.

 

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But… but…

 

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Horsies….

 

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Are cuter than cannons any ole day.

And you can’t ride a cannon.

(Or maybe you can… but you probably shouldn’t.)

 

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Next up was lunch at Chowning’s Tavern, where it’s wreath spoke volumes.

 

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A reconstructed public house Josiah Chowning operated in 1766…

 

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The menu of Brunswick Stew, Shepherd’s Pye and Welsh Rarebit reflected the fare of the day.

 

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I opted for the hot smoked turkey trencher which was marvelous…. while the husband continued his French Onion soup trend.

Rum cake?

 

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Don’t mind if I do.

Light, rummy and utterly fabulous.

 

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Hot tea and mixed berry crumble for the other half.

 

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Which to be honest, was so God awful sweet he could hardly eat it.

( Lunch photos just for you Martin.)

 

 

Colonial Williamsburg…the Governor’s Palace tour.

 

Finished with out outdoor stroll….

 

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We headed for the interior tour…

 

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Of the Colonial Seat of English rule in early Virginia.

 

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Our guide led us inside…

 

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Where we were immediately surrounded by a large numbers of weapons.

 

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Weapons.

 

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Everywhere.

I won’t bore you with the long history of the place, if you’re interested…. take a peek here.

I’ll just point out that it was home to the Royal Governor pre revolution, and numerous Virginia Governors like Patrick Henry and Thomas Jefferson post revolution.

 

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It was an impressive place.

 

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With an impressive wood stove.

 

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Amazing decorative detail….

 

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And some pretty brightly colored walls.

 

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There was even a separate room for men to powder their wigs.

Maybe that’s what’s wrong with politics today…

Not enough wigs.

 

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The beds were elaborate.

 

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But the only thing I thought of when I saw the red room…

 

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Complete with fancy dress crib to show off the progeny?

 

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Was this:

 

 

It’s in there Rosemary….

 

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Grab your knife.

(Sorry, but I saw that movie when I was 9 and it still creeps the hell out of me)

The final part of the tour was self guided.

 

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And led us around back…

 

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To the cellar.

 

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Which was basically a whole lotta barrels…

 

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And a whole lotta wine….

 

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So… that done, we emerged.

 

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And caught a charming scene.

 

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A horse drawn carriage.

 

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Adding a little something to the atmosphere of days gone by.

As well as making us watch where we walked… because, well. Horse diapers hadn’t been invented yet.

And yes… they do exist.

Pampers for Mr. Ed

 

 

Are you ready for a vacation smackdown?

 

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.

 

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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?

 

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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:

 

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With buckets of the same for the first few states.

 

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When we were nearing Hartford, Connecticut it let up, but we hit road construction….

 

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And this rather precarious way of shoring up of the highway made me cringe.

 

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I guess I should be glad they didn’t use duct tape, but still.

 

 

Next up was my least favorite part of the trip….

 

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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.

 

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Though I can honestly say it’s the only time in my life I’m thankful for bumper to bumper traffic.

 

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Reduce speed?

 

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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:

 

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But here’s one peek through the fog.

 

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After the bridge? It’s New Jersey…

 

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And the swamps they built the Meadowlands on.

 

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If you’ve ever wondered where Tony Soprano and his boys dumped the bodies?

It would be here.

 

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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:

 

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A Christmas extravaganza house that was blocking traffic.

 

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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.

 

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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…

 

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But it did have some interesting features.

 

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Mainly, the lighting.

 

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Is it me?

 

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Or did this over the bathroom sink fixture look like deer hooves?

 

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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…..

 

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It was these over the bed reading lamps that were a little too proctology/gynecology themed for my taste.

 

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And don’t get me started on the art work.

 

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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!)

 

Cape Cod Day 8…. turkeys, traffic and booze. The way most of our vacations end.

 

Day 8 dawned bright and sunny and it was time to pack up and head for home. Of course packing means different things to men and women. It takes me considerable time…. seeing that I actually unpack my suitcases and put things away.

Remember? Me unpacked…

 

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Husband’s idea of unpacked…

 

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Men.

You really are a separate species.

 

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The local turkey brigade came to wish us farewell.

 

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And soon we were crossing the famous Sagamore Bridge and leaving Cape Cod.

 

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It was a wonderful trip, and we enjoyed every minute of it. So much to see and do…. I’m sure we’ll go back someday.

Next step?

 

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Boston.

 

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And it’s horrible, absolutely inescapable, bumper to bumper traffic. If you can avoid it?

By all means, do so.

Cruising into New Hampshire on I-95 means one thing. The New Hampshire State Liquor store…. no tax!

 

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If we drive to our vacation? We stop here on the way back…. you almost have to. It’s like a rite of passage for New Englanders.

Snow.

Lobster.

And tax free booze.

What’s not to love?

 

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My haul this time included a few Game of Thrones inspired Johnnie Walker Christmas presents.

Ho, Ho, Ho!

And here’s a bone I’ll throw to all my food lovers.

Lunch.

 

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At a riverside restaurant.

 

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With an amazing beer selection.

 

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And a list that went on and on and on…

 

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To heck with the food…

 

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I could just happily sit there and drink all day.

 

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But yes, food.

 

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Homemade chicken tenders and side salad for the husband.

 

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And a massive portion of Truffle fries to accompany my chicken Caesar salad wrap.

So there you have it, the November Cape Cod trip.

The end.

Finito.

Done!

 

 

While I realize it took me until January 20th to finish this series, as I sit here typing this… I still have over 2 weeks worth of Williamsburg, Virginia Christmas vacation photos to sort through and post. So don’t be surprised if you’re seeing Santa and his reindeer right through April….

You’ve been warned.

 

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Cape Cod Day 7…. Woods Hole and the aquarium

 

The tiny village of Woods Hole.

Home to the famous oceanographic institute… where you can visit, but can’t park your car.

 

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Also home to a drawbridge….

 

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And some wonderfully odd ships popping out of nowhere.

Our original plan was to visit the institute but when we realized we’d have to park downtown and walk ( in a 20 degree wind chill, after just hiking the Knob in a 20 degree wind chill)  we opted for the aquarium instead.

 

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I’d read it was small and didn’t get my hopes up…

 

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But they actually had a large diversity of  marine life….

 

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As well as some fascinating exhibits.

 

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No, not all the fish were pretty.

 

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But it’s the weirdos I like best anyway.

Like this fellow….

 

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And his large friend.

 

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Pardon all the background noise, it was rather crowded the day we went.

 

 

 

Did anyone else realize loggerhead turtles were so freakin’ big?

 

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Here’s someone you don’t want to step on accidentally.

 

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This next guy looks my husband’s grumpy uncle.

 

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Imagine having that stare at you across the Christmas dinner table every year.

 

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Fish scales can be counted like tree rings?

Another thing I didn’t know.

 

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I was beyond thrilled they had Lion Fish.

 

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They’re my favorite!

 

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Okay, yes.

They’re poisonous as hell and would just as soon kill you as look at you…

But aren’t they grand?

 

 

 

 

I mean come on…

 

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Wouldn’t you risk a little venom…

 

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To sidle up next to one of these beauties?

 

Cape Cod Day 5…. P’town in the rain.

 

Done with our climbing for the day, we explored Provincetown.

 

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In the rain…

 

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From our car.

 

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If I’d had foul weather gear like this fellow…

 

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I might have been more inclined to wander.

 

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P’town is tourist mecca in the summer.

 

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Jam packed with people and bumper to bumper traffic.

 

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On a rainy day in early November?

 

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A veritable ghost town.

 

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Oh well…

 

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At least we didn’t have trouble finding a parking spot for lunch.

 

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At the Squealing Pig.

 

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Good drinks…

 

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Great clams…

 

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What more do you need?

 

 

 

 

Cape Cod Day 4. Farewell to Martha’s Vineyard, hello to Bad Martha’s beer. And then some Italian.

 

While we’d planned on taking the 8:30pm ferry back to Woods Hole…

 

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We arrived early and were put on an earlier freight run.

 

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Yay! Third car on, I figured we’d be the third car off.

I was wrong.

So very wrong…

 

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But it was a gorgeous night for a boat ride.

 

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And for some full moon photography.

 

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Even if some of the shots went a little wonky.

 

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Before we knew it we were pulling into port.

 

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And the doors were opening…

 

 

 

Damn.

Do I take fascinating videos or what?

 

 

Naturally, we were almost the last to leave.

 

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But that’s alright, it was a wonderful day and a memorable adventure of a fabulous place.

Next stop?

Beer.

 

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We’d passed this place in Falmouth a few times during our trip and decided that night we’d stop.

 

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Bad Martha’s, a brewery from Edgartown on the Vineyard… from whence we just came, but managed to miss while we were there.

 

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It was a fun space.

Loud and exuberant…. probably like Martha herself.

 

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We did a flight.

 

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And sadly weren’t impressed with the beer, the really uncomfortable metal tractor seats or the small menu. Basically a few pizzas or a cheese plate.

So we moved on to Mashpee and found a great little Italian restaurant.

 

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Cranberry margarita in hand..

 

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We drooled over the menu.

 

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Veal Portofino for me…

 

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(Okay, 2 cranberry margaritas in… I admit the quality of photography tends to decline.)

 

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Chicken Florentine for the husband.

 

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And a classic on the television at the bar.

(I still have my original album, which shouldn’t surprise anyone. Hey Bartender!)

 

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Dessert was a shared Limonatta cream cake. Husband said he didn’t want any and ended up eating 2/3rds of it.

Light as air and positively delicious, how could he not?

One more slightly inebriated photo later…

 

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(It was a nice looking place, you’ll just have to take my word for it.)

Day 4… over and out.