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Part two of Mother Nature’s amazing foliage display along the Kancamagus Highway.
No narrative required.
( And if you’ve never experienced autumn in New England? What the hell are you waiting for! )
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Now tell me your blood pressure didn’t just drop.
😉
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Consisting of 450 oceanfront acres , there are ample opportunities for strolling.
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The resort itself spreads out in various areas with various types of buildings… and gives you a feeling of stepping back in time.
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Individual cottages straight out the 1950’s are across the road from modern condos.
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And everywhere you look there’s something photo worthy.
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The rugged Maine coast is on full display. No wide sandy beaches in this neck of the woods.
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The resort has their own cruise boat and offers scenic tours of the area.
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And naturally my husband had to strike up an hour long conversation with the boat’s captain.
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Ever spent the night in a lighthouse inspired suite? You can here.
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And it’s right across from a moonlit dancing lobster. What more could you want?
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Low tide.
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Another cottage.
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The cove.
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Ahhh…. Maine.
It never fails to lower my blood pressure.
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No, I’m not kidding. Hugh Hefner used to own this.
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And now you can spend the night in it as well. Smoking jacket optional.
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I can’t say this would be my resort destination of choice.
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But it would definitely be different.
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Heck, that pillow alone is blog worthy.
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And the night time pics are pretty dramatic.
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Meet Frankie Rae.
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Apparently he’s becoming a rather famous goat.
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How pathetic is it that a goat has more fans than I do?
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On second thought, he’s more photogenic, so it might make sense.
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So maybe the husband and I should get a wombat, and when we feel comfortable traveling again… I can feature the cuddly creature in my posts.
Could I share my dinner with a wombat?
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Sure.
Could I share my bed with a wombat?
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I don’t see why not.
Could I stage wombat-centric wilderness pictures?
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Of course.
Granted, the goat will one up us during the holidays …
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But uniqueness is key. And I dare you to find you another blogger who has a traveling wombat.
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Milton Berle said laughter is an instant vacation.
So you might as well laugh, because no one’s going to Cabo anytime soon.
This week’s selections have a theme….
Which is basically 2020 bites….
And we’re over it.
Never has there been such a crazy, utterly wasted year.
Yes….
That pretty much says it all.
Because we all still need a laugh.
Now that’s just rude.
This looks like a great idea since I always whup the husband at gin rummy and he won’t play with me anymore.
*Note to self – borrow neighbor’s rooster*
I really do miss traveling.
Even if it’s just to the next town.
Indeed.
Yeah.
Gwyneth (correct spelling) can bite me.
( Did I already post this one? Maybe… but the sentiment holds true. )
Cats.
They think they know everything. It happens to be tequila.
Stuff it Mittens.
Jesus… neither do I!
We’re doomed.
Tell me….
Do you see it?
I look at it everyday and think, damn…. that’s just cruel.
Yes.
It’s the magazine bucket.
It’s mocking me.
As we were leaving the resort for the 12 hour plus drive home, I found this behind a door.
Clearly the previous tenants vacationed in the coat closet and didn’t want to be disturbed.
And yes, you read that correctly. This will be my last blog about the Williamsburg, Virginia vacation.
To think it only took me 60 posts to get here!
So…. it was a grey overcast morning the day we left.
And I have absolutely no idea what this was.
But here’s the Washington Monument….
And the entrance to a tunnel.
Was my husband obeying the speed limit?
No.
He never does, but when you’re riding in a rental Brontosaurus and the lanes get smaller due to construction? My blood pressure ruses when he approaches 100 mph.
I also look out the side window a lot.
Although it’s hard to focus properly at that speed.
Playing with my phone helps…
As does laughing at some slightly painful road names.
Here’s the Delaware Memorial Bridge.
And the toll ticket that cut off our George Washington Bridge exit price on the bottom.
For those of you who have never seen the New York City skyline on an overcast day from the New Jersey Turnpike at 90 mph?
Here you go.
Next up was the George Washington Bridge, where I usually close my eyes and pray to the God of Tequila that I’ll live to see another margarita.
Ironically… as soon as I started filming, the husband slowed down. Which is a good thing since the roads were potholed and in horrible shape.
Traffic was a nightmare.
But it always is.
And every time we pass these massive apartment complexes….
I realize how blessed we are to live in the country.
Was this water blowing off the top of that truck?
No. It was smoke, because something was probably on fire. When we crept up next to it and signaled the driver there was a problem?
He flipped us off.
Ya gotta love New Yorkers.
The rest of the trip was long, traffic laden and uneventful.
We were even too pooped to make our normal pit stop at the tax free New Hampshire liquor store.
Technically I took a few more…. but still.
Why is sitting in car doing absolutely nothing for 13 hours so damn tiring?
This is for the food (and drink) people.
An entire post devoted to our final meal in Virginia. (That’s 2 in 3 days so no more complaining!)
(On a side note, it was Bogart day last Sunday and the husband and I did nothing but eat, drink and watch the classics.
The Maltese Falcon. Key Largo. The Caine Mutiny. African Queen. And my all time favorite movie … Casablanca. I cry at the nightclub scene when they drown out the Germans by singing La Marseillaise… every damn time! Good stuff.)
But back to food.
After spending 8 hours in an antique store that day I was in dire need of a cocktail.
Or eight.
And when I saw a sign for Eddie Romanelli’s?
I may have squealed.
I didn’t think this was a chain, but there was one in Wilmington, North Carolina we used to make a pilgrimage to every other month when we lived down south. Their Crabmeat Cannelloni in Carolina Shrimp Sauce?
To die for.
We sat at a high top in the bar area because of it’s… ya know.
Proximity to the cocktails.
Prickly pear margarita?
Come to mama….
Sadly the crabmeat wasn’t on the menu, but the fresh baked bread with herbed olive oil was wonderful.
As was the Caesar salad.
And the sparkling Tuscan lemonade. Fresh, crisp and quite delightful.
Husband had a juicy charbroiled steak with garlic sauteed spinach…
While I indulged my inner Italian with some pasta…. drenched in garlic Parmesan cream and loaded with grilled chicken, mushrooms and peas.
Were there more cocktails?
Maybe….
And damn that waitress for not clearing them as fast as I could drink them.
I’m going to blame the cocktail consumption for this last picture I took on the way back to the resort….
Because I have no idea what it is…
Or what it was supposed to be….
But trust me, it was fabulous.
If if it wasn’t for this nasty Coronavirus:
I could have been spending a nice long weekend here.
A beautiful and rather expensive resort on the Maine coast.
I would have been walking these vast halls….
On the way to our timeshare condo (which go for up to $700 a night in the summer, but which I snagged at the bargain basement off season price of $300 for 4 nights as a surprise for the husband’s birthday) ….
I should have been sitting here…
Fresh out of the hot tub with a cocktail and an ocean view.
I could have, would have, and should have been doing all of those things. But instead I’m stuck inside the house blogging while hiding from an invisible bug that wants to kill us all.
That’s just wrong.
It’s supposed to be almost 60 degrees today, a rarity for March in Maine.
I could have been walking here :
The Rockport breakwater, which leads to….
It’s very own teeny tiny lighthouse.
It’s cute damn it! And I should have been taking photographs for a future blog.
But no.
I won’t be eating at one of the resort’s 2 restaurants.
Or having a cocktail at the ice bar.
Granted, that would probably have been slush by tonight… but still!
I could have, should have, would have been enjoying it all.
But I did the right thing and cancelled the trip so I can social distance, or shelter in place, or avoid the plague…. whatever they’re calling it these days.
But that doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.
