We are mentally on a trip away from South Carolina, this morning. I have my cold still, and so I was up very early hacking.
There is nothing in my thoughts that is inspiring at this moment. I wonder why there is a question of whether US Olympian Ryan Locate and is 3 swimming buddies were robbed or not. I mean, seriously, either they were robbed or they weren’t. Why does everything seem to dissolve into a question of truth or lies?
We just can’t simply believe.
So, I trolled my photos for a pleasant little memory.
I found a photo from Vermont.
We love New England. It has been our go-to vacation place for years. The craggy coast and twin lobsters attract Nick. Me? I love wild seas, craggy coasts and tidal pools. I could take of leave lobsters, especially if it is the whole lobster that has been steamed and appears to be peeing on you when you try to open it.
Broiled lobster tail? Now you’re talking.
One summer we were in New England. We had our youngest daughter with us.
She was not delighted to be on this trip.
We stayed at an inn in New Hampshire that was post-card worth. It was old and charming, with a rathskeller in the basement.
One night, we met a couple in the rathskeller who were from England. We talked and talked and listened and it was like a movie. They told us about their very old house with the stone floor, that when it rained, a small stream ran through it. It was built in the 1700s.
We drove by the man on the side of the mountain, before the face fell off.
We stayed at a couple of bed and breakfasts, which our daughter didn’t like.
We had crossed the border from Vermont to New York and found our last B&B before we headed back to Boston for our return flight home.
The house was beautiful, in the middle of no-where.
The owner was a quirky man need, Phil.
Phil was a piece of work. It was as if he wanted to hop in our car and go with us everywhere.
That evening, we escaped Phil’s overwhelming presence, and headed back across the bridge at the tip end of Lake Champlaign. We saw that there was a county fair.
On our way to the fair, we saw a crossroads that had a church and a little store.
All three of us went inside.
Nick bought a scratch-off lottery ticket. He handed it to Rachel to scratch off.
We got in the car and she scratched it off.
“Do any good?”
“I think we won something big,” she said.
Un huh, right.
“Let me see,” I said.
I took the ticket and looked and looked again and then said, “Huh. I think she’s right. I think we won $1888.00.”
At which point a third set of eyes, Nicks, looked at it.
We all hopped out of that car and popped into the store.
Sure enough, we had a winner, winner, chicken dinner.
We couldn’t cash it at the store, so the next day, we drove to a bank in Middleburg, and cashed in our winning ticket.
It paid for the trip.
I love Vermont.