When you’re searching for a new home, there are no perfect houses. Some don’t have enough closets. Some have hot pink bathtubs. Some are in Alabama. ( A joke. No hate mail necessary. Roll Tide! )
Here’s one in a very nice section of Virginia. Homes of this size in that area go for a million plus… but it just sold for $200,000 less. And the reason wasn’t a lack of a wood burning fireplace.
.
.
Small garage? You can enlarge it.
Out of date kitchen? You can remodel it.
But people living in the basement? That’s got to be a hard spin for even the most talented of realtors.
.
.
Someone is living in your basement for three years, brings a friend… and you couldn’t be bothered to kick them out?
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….
Toward the end of our tour of the Jamestown re-creation settlement, we were startled by a loud noise.
It was the Lord of Misrule and his motley crew.
During his reign, which lasted anywhere from 12 days to 3 months, the Lord of Misrule was responsible for arranging and directing all Christmas entertainment, including elaborate processions, plays, and feasts.
He was generally a peasant or sub-deacon appointed to be in charge of holiday revelries, which often included drunkenness and wild partying.
In other words, my people.
In the 17th Century they went door to door, and if not given appropriate amounts of alcohol? They caused a lot of mischief.
*Note to self – this might be a great way to score free booze next Christmas*
So these characters staged their little show and we watched. Naturally I took pictures and videos like everyone else.
So why did this happen?
Why was I singled out and dragged into the middle of the square for punishment?
Because I’m lucky that way.
Yes, they made an example of me and if the husband had been able to work his cell phone properly….. you might have seen video of me dancing with the Lord of Misrule.
But he didn’t and you won’t.
All you’ll get is a few more pictures of the boardwalk to nowhere…..
And a few stolen shots of the museum I wasn’t supposed to photograph.
On the way to dinner?
We passed a van of what I first read as ‘Hippie’ Christians and I thought, huh. That could be interesting.
But when we got closer I realized there were only happy.
Which in the long run is probably easier on your liver.
The first settlement in America looked something like this.
And I have to admit the buildings were larger than I thought they’d be.
This was the church.
And I swear it’s bigger than the one in my town today.
I loved the thatched roofs on the cottages.
And we enjoyed poking around inside them.
Some of them were simple.
Some a little more grand.
Check out the armor on top of the cupboard.
Nothing like some weaponry over the dining room table to get the gastric juices flowing.
Speaking of that…. there was an armory.
And it doesn’t matter how many times I see these, I still can’t imagine having to wear them into battle. I mean damn, they make my underwire bra look positively comfortable in comparison.
Needless to say the husband was loving all the old tools and farm implements.
Yes dear….
Rusty metal…. I see it.
The last building we checked out was a communal kitchen.
And you know what I found… right?
Wandering at will….
Hoping something would fall off the table.
There were also fake cocktails, which is a rude tease to those of us who happened to be thirsty.
This was the day we explored the Jamestown Settlement which is part museum and part living history re-creation.
The museum section was large….
But immediately pissed me off with the no photography allowed rule. (I took this one just because I’m ornery.)
We’d spent the last 2 weeks visiting museums filled with amazing artifacts and fine art, but this…. fake trees and cheesy dioramas…. was off limits? Go figure.
Okay….
Fast forward to the full immersion cinema we were learning were common in these parts.
Admittedly, when you’re there?
It’s pretty cool.
Especially when the smoke starts rolling along the floor.
Finished with the film, we headed outside.
Past whatever this was.
And into a Native American village.
It was basically the same thing we’d seen at Plymouth Plantation earlier this year.
Except there were no bare chested young Indian men to chat with.
Boo to that.
There were more huts.
And a couple of people making baskets.
And of course, because I find them everywhere…
Chickens.
Aggravated roosters…
And fluffy butted hens.
Next up was the harbor…
And the reconstructed vessels that brought the first settlers from England.
We toured the deck.
The husband chatted up a crew member.
We toured down below.
Where accommodations were small….
And pretty basic.
Unless you were the cook.
Who got his own room.
Of course it was also the kitchen, so there is that.
The husband chatted up another crew member.
And we enjoyed the views.
While marveling at how more than a hundred people could travel together for months on end in these small spaces.
Crossing back over to the DeWitt side of the museum, things got a bit more formal.
And a trifle bizarre.
I think a little 18th Century photoshopping was in order here.
Okay then.
I saw the portrait of the gentleman on the left and thought, “What’s with the hair?”
And apparently I wasn’t the only one who asked.
It was an extensive gallery.
And according to George…. will be even more extensive soon.
Another sad statement of the times.
This couple struck me as a little odd.
Is it me or does the wife’s right arm look a wee bit…. off? As in, did the creepy husband chop it off and line it back up for the portrait?
We’ll never know.
At the far end of the gallery there was a video that was oddly mesmerizing.
And then on the way out there was a chair, which I forgot to photograph.
But George didn’t like it.
Chairs that were no good for sitting.
Excellent.
Through with the museum, we realized we’d not only skipped lunch but were now ready for dinner.
When I asked the husband what he was in the mood for, he said anything… so I picked a well reviewed barbecue restaurant in Williamsburg.
And the husband didn’t like it from the minute we stepped through the door.
Why?
Who knows.
They brought us yummy cornbread to munch while we looked at the menu.
Which he also didn’t like.
Pulled pork sundae? Come on… what’s wrong with that!
I managed to talk him into staying for appetizers.
So he had a chili he didn’t like either.
I went with some spicy steamed shrimp.
And while the rest of the customers were enjoying large platters of succulent looking food, he told me to pick another place because all they had on the menu was barbecue.
Gee. Who woulda thunk it?
People always think I’m the picky one, but when it comes to eating out my husband will drive you to drink.
Which in my case isn’t necessarily a negative…. but still.
The second restaurant that night was Italian.
Everyone raved about Sal’s, so I figured, why not?
He couldn’t complain about the menu being small.
It went on for multiple pages.
The garlic knots were perfect.
(Okay, I ate 4. Don’t judge.)
The salads were fresh and tasty.
My veal Marsala was tender, perfectly cooked and filled with wine soaked mushrooms.
He certainly couldn’t complain his chicken parmigiana was a small portion.
Good God, it was huge.
But you know what? He didn’t like this place either.
And heck, I’m the one who should have been complaining….there were no cocktails!
The portrait gallery was large…. and filled with strange and marvelous things.
Can’t say I’d enjoy having her as a Mother in Law.
They are smiling?
Perhaps the weight of that elaborate hair is pulling their lips down.
Oh my.
They say all babies are cute, but I beg to differ.
This is a girl.
And this is a boy.
No, I haven’t had too many margaritas.
It was explained to me that folk art paintings of little girls have cats… and folk art paintings of little boys have dogs. The hoop is also a boy’s toy, never played with by girls.
Yes, another boy.
Could have fooled me.
There were a few sad paintings, like this one….
Since all the family members in black are dead.
But there’s a chicken, so it’s not all bad.
And while these two portraits aren’t the most skillful, they had the saddest story of all.
Jonathan Bartlett was a black man who chose to portray himself as white…. in a heartbreaking statement of life in his time.
Lightening the mood, there was George again….
And whatever this was –
I can’t even do a Name That Crap because I have no idea…
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.
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.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 