Today is my last day at this job! Woohoo! I actually woo-hooed in the street yesterday. Before my two brief days of freedom, let me tell you the story of my happy time in Maine. There are many foreshadowing moments from our trip to Maine. If it were a novel, you'd think it was heavy-handed. See if you can spot them all.
We didn't want to waste a day of vacation so we left Wednesday right after work. Well, we would have if the dude had packed Tuesday night. So we left at 7pm for our 7-8 hour drive to my mother's beach house. On Tuesday, I told my mother that we'd arrive around 2:00 am
for the third time. "I'll leave the door open," she assures us. So we drive and drive and drive. As we crossed the Piscataqua we said hello to Maine for Barbara. We were a little late, arriving at 3 to find the front door locked, the garage door locked, and the porch door blocked by all the stuff from the garage (they had the floor epoxied). Inside, my mother was freaking out thinking that someone was breaking in. Finally, I went to the open bedroom window and said, "Mom! I thought you were going to leave the door open." She breathes a sigh of relief and let us in. She thought we were coming Thursday. In fact, it was only by chance that she was in Maine at all. Earlier she had been in NH and was deciding whether she should come back that night. D'oh!
On Thursday we blew a day of vacation going to NH to get a temporary registration on our new-to-us car. My dad gave us his old car. Everyone's embarrassed by our Civic. Later, my dad sent us to Walmart to pick up a big lobster for dinner. While it was being cooked, we shopped. We found a good deal on a waterproof, fireproof safe. We bought it. Um, yeah. Don't forget doing a household inventory is on
my 101 list (#93). Anyway, back then we were happy and sharing an eight pound lobster for dinner with my dad.
Friday was a beautiful day, and we spent it at the beach. We got a tour of my cousin's place on the marsh--this isn't a beach cottage in the traditional sense. (It sleeps 8 and they only rent it to friends of friends--and cheap at that. So be sure to meet me in person before next summer.) I finished Bill Bryson's book on Shakespeare. I got one of those sunburns that comes from using a spray sunscreen (stripes on one arm and both legs). The dude and I went into the ocean with my nieces and played like we were kids. Later, the two kids pulled a couple of beach chairs into the surf and sat watching the waves as they rolled up and over their feet. They looked so adorable, and none of us had a camera. Isn't that always the way? It was a fabulous day. Later we ate at
Blue Sky (Lydia Shire) and the food was fabulous! I had fried chicken livers. Not sophisticated but delicious. The dude had crispy skin salmon, my mother had shortribs, and my father had lobster pizza. It was a terrific dinner, the food and the company.
Saturday we met the other house (my cousin was hosting her parents and her sil) on the beach. It was a little bit windier which made the water seem a lot colder. So instead of going in, I thought it would be a good idea to try my niece's skim board. I think faithful readers already know where this is going. In my defense, it looks easy. Throw the board, run up, and stand on it. How hard can it be? Well, if you're me walking down a flight of stairs should be a lot easier than it is. I know I am clumsy, but I am eternally optimistic that this is the time I try something physical and turn out to be really good at it. This time! Well, this wasn't the time, and I have the scrapes on my knee to prove it. It has gotten worse over the past few days. You know, as a bonus for being an idiot forty-something. Of course, after the dude fell trying to do this, you'd think I would have backed out. My mother was yelling at some 16 year olds, "Hey, come show these two idiots how to do it!" Nice. When I collected myself and sat back in my chair she said, "You're the clumsiest one here; what made you think that was a good idea?" Thanks mom, way to be supportive. So there was a bit of a palaver with my cousin's restaurant reservations, and I really didn't want to go to Tapas and 'Tinis, my mother's suggestion, for dinner. I suggested we get fried clams at Ken's. My aunt and I started chanting, "Ken's! Ken's! Ken's!" No one joined in, but we did decide to do it. And it was yummy. And fun. My uncle is a bit of a raconteur and he told us a story about a finger accident that made mine look like kindergarten. There was lots of laughing, and the clams are damn good.
On Sunday, we packed it up and packed it in. Because of the new car, the dude and I drove separately. And it was a long drive. Even longer than usual. (I blame you, Massachusetts.) So I arrived home ten minutes after the dude at 11pm. And then of course, when I finally went upstairs, we discovered some things moved about. The dude hustled me out of the house and called the police. And now it turns out that I have to force myself to recall the good memories of the vacation. All I can really think about is the last two hours of Sunday night (technically into Monday morning) while the police collected evidence.
My cousin's younger daughter has become obsessed with lighthouses, so we visited Two Lights in Cape Elizabeth (look for Edward Hopper's portrayals) and then to Portland Head Lighthouse. I can't believe in all the time we've been going to Maine we've never been!
I did mention that we were away, and it's only fair to show you the wonders of our most recent Canadian vacation. It only makes sense we go to Canada so often. After all, British + American = Canadian. (It's a joke people. See, the Canadians are laughing.) And what better place for a Brit born in Scotland to a Scottish mother and a French Canadian to go than Nova Scotia where the Brits and the French fought over small pieces of land for centuries.
I'll try to make this brief, but I will say the whole time we were there we were wondering why more people weren't there. This is a beautiful province. It was nice and cool in the height of summer (by contrast, temps were in the mid90s with humidity in the 50%+ range in Pennsylvania). And it was empty.
We rented a car in Halifax and drove a figure eight around Nova Scotia. We started off by heading to Peggy's Cove and the "most photographed lighthouse in North America." (I don't know how they count.) I kind of didn't want to go for that very reason, but the dude is the grandson of a lighthouse keeper so off we went. We did skip some of the other "must see" places, well, we drove by them but didn't feel compelled to stop. Okay, we were cranky and felt deep hatred for Lunenberg because of the parking situation. We accidentally happened upon one of the most highly rated restaurants in the area, where the dude had panfried haddock (which would become a theme) and his taste of my fishcakes and tomato chow hooked him. (I was frankly concerned he'd turn into a haddock during the trip.) We stopped in Yarmouth where we ate more fish.
We stopped at Grand Pre, which I discussed in the last post, where we learned about the Grand Derangement. Then we were back to Halifax for an overnight on the waterfront. We spent some time at the Citadel, where students reenact two periods of soldiers at the fort (below). It was really very interesting. We also visited the Historic Properties and the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic--where we learned about the largest manmade explosion before the development of nuclear weapons. After lunch we headed up to Cape Breton, the longest drive of our visit.
Fortunately, we were staying in the inn attached to a whiskey distillery because the rain was pretty severe on the drive up. When we got to the roundabout just over the causeway, the dude asked me why everyone else seemed to be going in the opposite direction. "Oh," I said brightly, "besides staying at a whiskey distillery tonight, if you drive this way to the Cabot Trail, you'll be driving on the inside." The dude high-fived me. (He's afraid of heights.) (Best wife ever application, in one sentence!) After a pub dinner, we were treated to a ceilidh. Although the dude is Scottish, he wasn't very keen on attending. But we both enjoyed it very much! 
The dude and I did a piss-poor job planning our vacations this summer. No sooner did we return from Canada than we were off to the sea in Maine. Poor planning or not, it was still a relaxing time away from the office. We drove up after work, so I didn't get much stitching done. And I forgot my cheaters (actually, I didn't. I couldn't find them and then I bought a new pair and then I found them again). Where was I? Oh, forgetting the cheaters, so I stuck with a project on lower count fabric so I could see. And that was my August Small, and I'll save that one to show you later.
The dude and I went kayaking in the marsh very early one morning, and I would show you the fabulous pictures, but we didn't bring our picture taking devices because we didn't want to get them wet. The good news is after 12 years of marriage, we are pretty good at tandem rowing. We also dragged my mother on the Marginal Way, a paved public shoreline footpath between Perkins Cove and Ogunquit Beach. It's a beautiful pathway, but this is the only photo I have of it. (So go ahead and follow the link to see many more.) And we spent two whole days on the beach. We had such beautiful weather this time! It was remarkable. On the whole, a very relaxing trip. Marred only by the fact that on the ride home, we were listening to a book on tape and I was stitching (so completely engrossed) and we missed an exit. It took us a whole hour out of our way. I was more philosophical about this than the dude, but I hadn't been driving for seven hours either.
My mom has a little gallery in her stairs that includes some of my earlier work. Those southwestern cacti went in my parents' family room when it was decorated that way. I started that piece when my dad was in the hospital after rejecting his hip. I started with the saguaro. I started just under the split and worked my way down. One day he asked to see it, "what is it? A toilet?" He asked memorably. I worked on it while the dude and I drove cross country. It is dated 1993.
The sampler I'd started for the dude's friend's wedding. It was taking me quite some time as we were still in graduate school. Before I finished they were divorced. Good thing I'd hadn't figured out how I was putting the names on. I added some hearts and gave it to my mother. It's a little buckled because it hung in the powder/laundry room.
I seem to have had some amount of difficulty recovering from my vacation. Crazy things keep popping up and I haven't finished the unpacking. First, Stella got an eye infection. Following our trip to the vet, I have goo to put in her eye twice a day. She has some sort of sixth sense when I pick up the medication. As a result, the dude has to chase her all over the house and hold her down. But then she comes and licks my hand and shows there's no hard feelings.
I know I referred a while back to our trip to Florida. Well, we're back. It's not that I don't trust you, I'm just a little paranoid since the break in.
I refused to watch the news while we were away, hoping rather than expecting* that the global economy might improve. I feel horrible that I was galavanting cavalierly while things were breaking down, but I guess I was contributing to the economy. And let me tell you, with the price of food in Bermuda, contribute we did.
Since I write from Bermuda (maybe, maybe not) I thought I'd share my dolls from this country. The first is a souvenir from one of my parents' trips to the islands in the late 60s-mid70s. I'll let you know if I see anyone with a basket on her head, but I'm guessing not.
Apple Sampler
