Tag Archives: vacation

John Wayne and $40 text messages.

 

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This cute little building was next up on our tour of the Sedona Heritage Museum.

 

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Admittedly it didn’t look like much upon entry.

But then the husband saw this…

 

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And I can’t swear to it, but I think he might have orgasmed right then and there.

Me?

 

 

Because as much as I love history, including that of the old west… I despise the old Hollywood westerns. The inaccuracies, the one dimensional characters, the predictable plots? You can have them.

 

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Yes, I know… it’s unAmerican. So sue me. But the soundtrack to my 35 year marriage has been Rio Bravo, Eldorado, and The Sons of Katie Elder.  If  I never see another John Wayne movie?  I will die a happy woman.

 

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But for the husband to be standing in the actual telegraph office building that was used to shoot The Angel and the Badman?

To walk where Wayne walked?

 

 

Yeah, that looks about right.

 

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The studios made a lot of movies in Sedona back in the day, and while the husband was happily reading about the fake west….

 

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I found an early Xerox machine from the real one.

Dare ya to print a copy of your butt on that!

 

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And being a telegraph office, naturally there was telegraph machine.

 

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But holy crap!

I never realized it was so expensive to send a message back then. $40 for a 10 word text? I’d be on the streets in no time flat.

And speaking of the old days…

 

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Yes sir.

You really had to want it.

We’re finally there….

 

Yes, it’s the last full day of the Arizona vacation.

 

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And to think it only took me 43 blog posts to get here.

 

 

Hey, don’t blame me. You’re the ones reading them.

Our day started in an arts and crafts gallery.  Sedona is full of them and not one will allow you take pictures.

So here’s a picture.

 

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I saw the framed blessing below and wished I knew someone who was getting married. It would have made a great gift.

 

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Next stop was the Sedona Heritage Museum.

 

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An unassuming little place tucked away in the canyon…

 

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Do ya see the red rocks in the background?

Huh?

Do ya?

 

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The husband happily strolled around outside and examined rusty things.

 

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There were lots of them.

 

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Including one I could identify but he couldn’t.

 

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Name That Crap.

Go….!

 

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The museum building itself began as a one room cabin and eventually morphed into an early settler’s ranch. It was filled with antiques original to the house, memorabilia and history of a bygone age.

Naturally they wouldn’t let you take pictures.

 

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So here are some pictures.

 

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Yes, that’s part of an authentic chuck wagon from the old west. A piece of tin was folded down from the back and held up by a timber. This acted as the kitchen counter for the camp cook… because really, how much space do you need to make beans?

 

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There were numerous out buildings to tour including this one that was filled with,

Well…

 

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Rusty crap.

But then in the back I saw…

 

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What?

 

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Yes.

The world’s only teal arches.

 

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I know.

Teal arches.

Remember, you saw it here first.

Funky trees, metal warrior women and some dinosaur dung.

 

Tlaquepaque – the sequel.

Trees.

 

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They were everywhere in this quaint shopping village.

 

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And allowed to go pretty much anywhere…

 

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Which was environmentally friendly…

 

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And at times, down right comical.

 

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There was a strange bird with red peppers on it’s head…

 

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And naked warrior women made out of metal.

 

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Also with birds.

Tell the truth…. how many of you men actually noticed the bird?

 

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We walked by Albert again…

 

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And into a store that sold dinosaur poo.

 

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Supposedly authentic… which caused my husband to snort.

Like you could you tell?

 

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The village was lovely.

 

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With a distinct Spanish flavor.

 

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Which probably explains why the French cafe where we had lunch was so absolutely un-French.

 

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It had a slight Gallic atmosphere.

 

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And yes, French Onion soup.

 

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But the closest the menu came to French cuisine was my uninspired, build it yourself chicken salad sandwich on a croissant.

 

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The husband’s?

 

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Might have had Grey Poupon.

Ooh La La Lame.

 

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Finishing our circuit, we stopped at a Native American jewelry store. The prices were high, and though tempted…. I was going to walk out empty handed until the husband started talking.

When the husband starts talking? I know we’re going to be there a while and resumed shopping. Seriously this time.

So it really was his fault I spent a large chunk of change on this bracelet.

 

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Yup.

His fault.

 

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On our way out, a giant aloe vera plant threatened to swallow him whole while he gazed at a statue…

 

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No. Not really…

But I totally would have posted that video to YouTube if it had.

 

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Said statue.

 

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Fountain.

Or tiny public bathtub, tough call.

 

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Cat statue, directly opposite a pot filled with….

 

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That can’t be a coincidence.

Mark Twain, Albert Einstein and an amethyst trouser snake.

 

Tlaquepaque.

No, I didn’t sneeze…. it’s a place.

 

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Granted it’s designed for tourists with money to burn.

 

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But it’s also a lovely warren of shops and cafes…

 

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And a pleasant place to stroll the day away.

 

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(I think this elk was complaining about his decided lack of fluffy butt.)

 

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I could easily have seen that skull on my living room coffee table…

But no.

 

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We saw Mark Twain.

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And a very relaxed Albert Einstein.

 

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(I wanted my other half to take my picture sitting on his lap and giving him a smooch, but again… uncooperative husband.)

 

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Most of the shops were outrageously expensive…

And some of them were down right weird.

 

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This one had fake pink stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

As well as …..

This.

 

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I’m sorry.

 

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But any way you look at it?

 

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That’s an amethyst penis.

(And a very large one at that.)

And if you think my husband was mortified at the thought of me kissing dear old Albert?

You should have seen his face when I made a point of photographing that semi precious love dart.

 

Washouts, floating snakes and a giant potato.

Leaving Winslow, Arizona you see a lot of….

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Until you see these…

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And start looking for a restaurant here…

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We’d heard there was a wonderful place to eat dinner at the Orchard.

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Unfortunately…

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We didn’t bring our white water landing craft.

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This is what happens in Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona when it rains.

And mind you, I’m not talking about torrential downpours. The rain we’d had the night before wouldn’t have been enough to properly soak my garden back home in Maine.

But road after road, and driveway after driveway were impassable.

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Except for snakes.

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Apparently those suckers float right on by.

By the time we got back to Sedona it was dark, and we ended up here.

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A well reviewed steakhouse.

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It was pleasant…

And I was thirsty.

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To hell with doctors orders, I’d been a good girl and was feeling fine.

Prickly pear pomegranite cosmo?

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Come to momma!

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The salads were lovely with fresh local greens, candied pecans, goat cheese and pears with a tangy citrus vinaigrette.

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The yeast rolls with sea salt cultured butter? Light as air…

And yes, I ate 3.

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But the steaks?

Ooh la la!

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My filet mignon with truffle butter was everything you want a steak to be.

Of course for $52 it should be.

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And my baked potato was huge.

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Well, not quite.

But damn…

Now I totally want to go to the potato museum!

Canadian Potato Museum PEI

The Canadian Potato Museum is a living testament to the humble tuber and those who have tilled the soil in its evolution. 

We celebrate all things “potato”.

Highlights include the world’s largest exhibits of potato-related farm machinery, agricultural and Community artifacts and the world’s largest potato sculpture.

The world’s largest potato sculpture?

It doesn’t get much better than that!

Who’s with me?

Great!

B.Y.O.P.

(Bring your own peeler)

A hotel, a rusted camel and some death spoons.

 

When you visit Winslow, Arizona you have to stand on the corner.

But you also have to visit La Posada…

 

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It’s a sprawling old place, rich with history.

 

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Abandoned for years but now lovingly restored and brought back to life.

 

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Southwest colors and Spanish touches abound.

 

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Including some lovely wrought iron…

 

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And a rusted camel.

 

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The interior is a bit of a maze…

 

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With arches….

 

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Bright colors…

 

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Elaborate entrance ways…

 

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And room upon room….

 

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Of antiques…

 

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And funky art.

As well as a giant angry chicken.

 

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Because really, what hotel is complete without one?

 

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The owner is an artist named Tina Mion and her works are scattered throughout the hotel.

 

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Including this mural of suicides.

Yes, you read that correctly.

Take a closer look…

 

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Thinking this was a little odd….

I walked on.

 

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And found these.

 

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Death spoons!

 

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Now you have to admit…

These beat grandma’s Florida gator and Liberty Bell spoons all to Hell!

 

Armadillo eggs, mammoth bones… and shoes.

 

After our disappointing visit to the  (guess I’m not so clever after all)  corner in Winslow, we noticed there was a local museum down the road. Small town museums are usually a hoot, filled with ridiculous stuff only the locals care about… and we try never to miss one.

But first, lunch.

Because otherwise Martin will unfriend me.

 

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There weren’t a lot of choices in dear old Winslow, so we picked the one that said beer.

 

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Not that I could drink since my no alcohol order was still in place…but it was probably a good thing, because the beer list was annoying.

 

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Instead of… what?

The beer gets… what?

 

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Fresh orchard like …  what?

Open ended sentences do not make me want to order your beer, they make me want to bounce your menu writer’s face off the bar a few times and then force him to finish his description.

And don’t get me started on naming the beers piehole and sex panther. There’s such a thing as trying too hard.

The decor? Early junkyard.

 

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Our hightop table was an upended road sign.

Chipping paint no extra charge.

 

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The menu?

It had the required Eagle references, and some truly awful sounding food.

 

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Armadillo eggs?

Thank you…. No.

 

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The southwest burger I ordered rare was a well done hockey puck… and just about as tender.

 

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The husband’s Caesar salad? A giant bowl of husks.

 

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Thankfully the museum turned out to be much more palatable.

 

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We were greeted by a local woman who gave us the entire history of the town, whether we wanted it or not.

Once a booming Santa Fe railroad stop, and then a profitable Route 66 destination… the town fell on hard times when families stopped piling the kids in station wagons and hitting the road in search of the World’s Largest Ball of Twine. If it weren’t for the Eagles and their silly song, the place would have dried up and blown away long ago.

 

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Mammoth bone.

Because I promised.

 

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Native American beaded shoes.

Because… shoes!

 

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There was a still.

 

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And a box.

I told you this would be fascinating stuff….

 

 

Have you ever heard of the Harvey Girls?

 

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I admit I hadn’t, and my mind is full of  perfectly useless nonsense  trivia so that’s saying something.

(Pay attention… tomorrow’s post will include an actual Harvey House.)

 

 

Naturally, there was a locally famous Harvey girl.

 

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And some of her dresses.

 

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There was also an advertisement that pretty much says all you need to know about Winslow, Arizona.

 

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What’s not to love?