I am copying this from Nuclear Mom (who I think got this from Pioneer Woman...). Thanks for the great idea! Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?? It's always good to remember what we love and are grateful for.
So in random order here are some of the things I love:
Sunday mornings with the Sunday New York Times Puzzle
The way ES looks at me in the morning (without makeup, a shower, and stinky breathe)
Ice cream from the Dairy Store at Cornell U
My itty kitty
America
Long chats with my friends who live thousands of miles away
Traveling to far and not so far away places
Being pampered
Vanilla lattes
Ireland
The smell of wet leaves in the fall after raking and while sipping hot cider
A cheeseburger from Blakes
The beach and the sound of the ocean
Playing with my nephews
Laughing so hard you can't breathe
Running stump the chump with ES while trying to quiz each other on movie lines
Foreign films
Seeing some of my favorite movies over and over
A grilled cheese and tomato soup on a cold day
A lazy afternoon sitting by the fire and reading a good book
Beachcombing and playing in the tidal pools
ES' goofy smile
Roadtrips
Peeps
Martha's Vineyard
Tapas
Long weekends
Collecting rocks along the beach
The New Yorker - esp. the cartoons and the Shouts and Murmurs section
Candy necklaces
Christmas lights
Green Chili
A lazy backstroke in the pool on a hot day
Santa Fe
Going to the Zoo
Opera
Lasting friendships
The thought there are always new places to explore
That I only have to visit a few more states to be able to say I've been to all 50 states
Blue crab sandwiches
Family
The National Gallery and the National Museum of American History
Jeans
Sushi
iPhone
Making travel plans
Taking pictures
My Tevas
LL Bean
Jazz
Going to the Kennedy Center
Meeting new friends
Playing Wii
Sharing my prior night's dream with ES and vise versa
Cheezy 80s music
Fireworks
Riding the ferry
The smell of the beach
Monday, February 15, 2010
Old Photos and New Faces
ES and I spent the weekend visiting family, with the aims of visiting my father (recovering from surgery) and finalizing details of my grandmother's funeral service. One of the few things left to do is sort through boxes and boxes of old photos from my grandmothers house. We spent hours going through 1000s of photos, many of which I'd not seen before. We ended up spliting up many of the photos between kids, siblings, and cousins.
It was like seeing a window into someone's life where you'd always pictured them as something else.....I saw photos of my grandmother as a little girl, holding a dog and standing in a field. Turns out, as my father told me, my grandmother's family had a nut farm, a general store, and an few oil derricks. I saw photos of a young women in junior high, in what I can imagine was the same set of akward stages her granddaughter would go though. Later there were pictures of a wedding, her children, her job. Grandma was always grandma to me. Now I see snippets of the woman she was too.
Other finds:
A photo of my parents heading out on their honeymoon - "just married" on the side of their VW and my mom wearing her Jackie O pill box hat, gloves, and red suit
A photo of my grandparents dancing and kissing - a la WWII times square sailor and nurse. Dip and all.
A photo of me and my brother in what I think is my crib when I was under 2 and my brother 4.
My parents, brother, and I when we were young. And my father had no facial hair.
Now what to do with all these photos....I'm not really a big scrapbooker, so I think I'll find some archival storage boxes for now. Project for next month? And I need to buy a scanner.....
It was like seeing a window into someone's life where you'd always pictured them as something else.....I saw photos of my grandmother as a little girl, holding a dog and standing in a field. Turns out, as my father told me, my grandmother's family had a nut farm, a general store, and an few oil derricks. I saw photos of a young women in junior high, in what I can imagine was the same set of akward stages her granddaughter would go though. Later there were pictures of a wedding, her children, her job. Grandma was always grandma to me. Now I see snippets of the woman she was too.
Other finds:
A photo of my parents heading out on their honeymoon - "just married" on the side of their VW and my mom wearing her Jackie O pill box hat, gloves, and red suit
A photo of my grandparents dancing and kissing - a la WWII times square sailor and nurse. Dip and all.
A photo of me and my brother in what I think is my crib when I was under 2 and my brother 4.
My parents, brother, and I when we were young. And my father had no facial hair.
Now what to do with all these photos....I'm not really a big scrapbooker, so I think I'll find some archival storage boxes for now. Project for next month? And I need to buy a scanner.....
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Goodbye Gram
I've only once experienced the death of a loved one until now. The first was when I was only 12. It happened when I was in junior high. My uncle died. He and my aunt were so good to me. I remember lots of trips to the beach, building sand castles, and playing with their ever lasting supply of poodles. When you're 12, death isn't real. It's not something that comes with great understanding. Frankly, I don't think age gives us that understanding either.
It's to my grandmother that I now must say goodbye. I selfishly want to be able for her to meet her future great grandchildren, for wanting her to be with our family for years to come. Instead, fate had other plans. So instead of saying goodbye, I'll say hello to all the wonderful things I remember about her --
All the times she took me to the club, where we had (and I still to this day think this) the world's best hamburgers. I remember eating a hamburger and having a root beer. I don't think I ever waiting a half hour before running back into the pool. She kept her membership for years after her body was willing to let her play golf just so us grandkids could go to the pool and have burgers during our summer breaks.
The one time, gosh I was so embarrassed, but laugh at something only a cantankerous grandmother can do, that she'd just picked me up from a cross-country flight and I was starving. We stopped at Burgerville (yum - I just avoid the "secret" sauce which I'm pretty sure isn't ketchup + thousand island dressing). We kept waiting and waiting at the drive through and to my horror, my grandmother yelled into the speaker "is this fast food or what?"
Or the time that we drove up the Gorge and she took me to tea The Gorge Hotel (back when it was still a grand old place). We stopped at Bonneville dam and told me all kinds of stories about working at BPA. It was a like a second family for her; she was a like a little den mother to all these reprobate line men who were getting a firm hand of guidance (and chocolate cookies from time to time). In return, she developed lasting friendships that she carried with her until she died.
She always remembered what us grandkids liked, and year after year made sure she got it for us. She helped us out when we needed it, giving me the present of paying off a small college loan when I graduated from undergraduate and giving us seed money for the 1st home ES and I purchased.
Even as I child I remember her having stuff, a lot of stuff. So much stuff that there was a path through the garage from her car to the door. So much stuff we just to joke about the Mickey Mouse doll she bought when I was 8 that was meant to be a Christmas present. It was never to be seen again. When we started going through her house, we found so many things that were never opened. Dishes and small appliances (although used) that made been meticulously put back in their original boxes and put back in the garage. I opened a closet and thought "if there's ever a wrapping paper famine, we'll not go uncovered." She had dozens of rolls for every conceivable occasion. Things to make bows, and ribbons.
Although the garage was choked full of stuff, she knew where everything was. If you'd ask her where the ziplock bags were, she'd tell you the 3rd cabinet past the baked beans, but before the creamed corn. Perhaps it was growing up when she did, as I think she was always afraid of running out of things, especially food. I think as she got older, it was more that the things became a substitute for having others around her. They gave her comfort and until she left the house, it remained relatively unchanged for years.
She was a great crafter. Evidence of this lies all over my parents house, mainly at Christmas. She made our Christmas stockings. We all still have ours, it's just that now we've integrated them into our own families. Tree skirts, Christmas decorations/hangups, bells, Christmas balls. She was very talented and looked arts and crafts. She only gave it up, when her arthritis got to be too much.
I remember that she was always taking me out - dinner, shopping, a drive. We had such fun together. I liked to give her a hard time and she gave it right back to me. Although I still remember the one time (I think I was 14 or 15), that I went into Nordstorms (just for a sec...turned into a lot longer than that) and she thought I had been kidnapped or something. This was days before cell phones and Amber alerts. She didn't take me shopping much after that for quite awhile. I think she was afraid on the next time in, I'd not come back.
She used to joke that I inherited her love of coats, purses, and shoes. Ask my husband, this is no joke.
She was working on a project for all the grandkids when she had her fall. She was sorting family photos (some way back to her childhood and before) for each of the grandkids. We stumbled upon the boxes in one of the bedrooms. We took out the boxes and started looking through photos. I'd ask my dad who this and that person was. Trouble is, without any writing, and lots of siblings on my grandmothers side (including twins with rhyming names - Merle and Earl) it was often difficult to tell. I found a few of my dad, including one where he and the neighborhood kids were making mud pies. Back before the toys did all your playing for you.
One memory that I wish I could have had was of her playing golf. She lived and breathed the sport. She was quite good in her day. And she had an amazing golf bag. Bright faux alligator skinned bag with professional clubs. Steel stafted. Today's clubs are graphite. These are a lot more friendly on the arms. Less reverb. They just have the panache however, of my grandma's clubs. She gave them to me when I moved out to NY and I have them to this day.
My mother and I went through boxes and boxes of my grandmother's jewelery. Most of the pieces were fancy costume pieces. She never pierced her ears, but she loved earrings. She also had dozens of broaches. Spangly and colorful. As we looked through her pieces, I think we saw the 40s to the 80s in her pieces - Bakelite, rhinestones, crystals, all the way to pure plastic. I only kept a few pieces, including a set of fake pearls that my grandfather gave her. Every time I wear them, it makes me feel a little closer to them both. In one of the jewelery boxes was a telegram. The words had been printed on a Telex (google this if you don't know what it is) and pasted to the Western Union telegram. It was interesting seeing a little piece of history. She still had all her old ID cards from the service, including those from when they were overseas. Her international driver's licence was paper with type (and handwritten) notations. Felt like I was in some sort of family historical museum. There was even my grandfather's dog tags. Four in all. One for each grandchild. We found some old receipts (including a Pan Am plane ticket) and papers and even a credit card (it was 1/3 of the size of today's cards).
Grandma D had not been doing well for the past year and a half. After she fell and broke her femur, she never did return home. Never did drive again (although this was good thing, as we thought she shouldn't be on the road anymore, irregardless). She always talked like she was going home. Didn't want things to change. Thought she be up and about in a matter of time. Her zestful spirit was a stubborn one, and when she refused to cooperate with the physical therapist and get out of bed, she started sinking further away from us. My parents found an adult care home (in a person's house - 5 residents total) less than a mile from their house. She began to slip into a different place from ours, thinking my father was still a boy or that they were living back on the farm in Minnesota. Every now and then though, she'd surprise you, and say something that let you glimpse the old grandma D.
So here's to my grandmother, who liked to "tell it like it is." Here's my way to tell it: Goodbye and safe travels on your journey to heaven. I know you'll give St. Peter a run for his money at the Gates. We miss you. We love you.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Learning How to Say Goodbye
I've only once experienced the death of a loved one until now. The first was when I was only 12. It happened when I was in junior high. My uncle took his own life. He and my aunt were so good to me. I remember lots of trips to the beach, building sand castles, and playing with their ever lasting supply of poodles. When you're 12, death isn't real. It's not something that comes with great understanding. Frankly, I don't think age gives us that understanding either. My brother and I stayed at home that summer, while my parents flew back for the funeral. To this day, my grandmother still can't talk about it.
It's to my grandmother that I now must say goodbye. I selfishly want to be able for her to meet her future great grandchildren, for wanting her to be with our family for years to come. Instead, fate had other plans. So instead of saying goodbye, I'll say hello to all the wonderful things I remember about her --
All the times she took me to the club, where we had (and I still to this day think this) the world's best hamburgers. I remember eating a hamburger and having a root beer. I don't think I ever waiting a half hour before running back into the pool. She kept her membership for years after her body was willing to let her play golf just so us grandkids could go to the pool and have burgers during our summer breaks.
The one time, gosh I was so embarrassed, but laugh at something only a cantankerous grandmother can do, that she'd just picked me up from a cross-country flight and I was starving. We stopped at Burgerville (yum - I just avoid the "secret" sauce which I'm pretty sure isn't ketchup + thousand island dressing). We kept waiting and waiting at the drive through and to my horror, my grandmother yelled into the speaker "is this fast food or what?"
Or the time that we drove up the Gorge and she took me to tea The Gorge Hotel (back when it was still a grand old place). We stopped at Bonneville dam and told me all kinds of stories about working at BPA. It was a like a second family for her; she was a like a little den mother to all these reprobate line men who were getting a firm hand of guidance (and chocolate cookies from time to time). In return, she developed lasting friendships that she carried with her until she died.
She always remembered what us grandkids liked, and year after year made sure she got it for us. She helped us out when we needed it, giving me the present of paying off a small college loan when I graduated from undergraduate and giving us seed money for the 1st home ES and I purchased.
Even as I child I remember her having stuff, a lot of stuff. So much stuff that there was a path through the garage from her car to the door. So much stuff we just to joke about the Mickey Mouse doll she bought when I was 8 that was meant to be a Christmas present. It was never to be seen again. When we started going through her house, we found so many things that were never opened. Dishes and small appliances (although used) that made been meticulously put back in their original boxes and put back in the garage. I opened a closet and thought "if there's ever a wrapping paper famine, we'll not go uncovered." She had dozens of rolls for every conceivable occasion. Things to make bows, and ribbons.
Although the garage was choked full of stuff, she knew where everything was. If you'd ask her where the ziplock bags were, she'd tell you the 3rd cabinet past the baked beans, but before the creamed corn. Perhaps it was growing up when she did, as I think she was always afraid of running out of things, especially food. I think as she got older, it was more that the things became a substitute for having others around her. They gave her comfort and until she left the house, it remained relatively unchanged for years.
She was a great crafter. Evidence of this lies all over my parents house, mainly at Christmas. She made our Christmas stockings. We all still have ours, it's just that now we've integrated them into our own families. Tree skirts, Christmas decorations/hangups, bells, Christmas balls. She was very talented and looked arts and crafts. She only gave it up, when her arthritis got to be too much.
I remember that she was always taking me out - dinner, shopping, a drive. We had such fun together. I liked to give her a hard time and she gave it right back to me. Although I still remember the one time (I think I was 14 or 15), that I went into Nordstorms (just for a sec...turned into a lot longer than that) and she thought I had been kidnapped or something. This was days before cell phones and Amber alerts. She didn't take me shopping much after that for quite awhile. I think she was afraid on the next time in, I'd not come back.
She used to joke that I inherited her love of coats, purses, and shoes. Ask my husband, this is no joke.
She was working on a project for all the grandkids when she had her fall. She was sorting family photos (some way back to her childhood and before) for each of the grandkids. We stumbled upon the boxes in one of the bedrooms. We took out the boxes and started looking through photos. I'd ask my dad who this and that person was. Trouble is, without any writing, and lots of siblings on my grandmothers side (including twins with rhyming names - Merle and Earl) it was often difficult to tell. I found a few of my dad, including one where he and the neighborhood kids were making mud pies. Back before the toys did all your playing for you.
One memory that I wish I could have had was of her playing golf. She lived and breathed the sport. She was quite good in her day. And she had an amazing golf bag. Bright faux alligator skinned bag with professional clubs. Steel stafted. Today's clubs are graphite. These are a lot more friendly on the arms. Less reverb. They just have the panache however, of my grandma's clubs. She gave them to me when I moved out to NY and I have them to this day.
My mother and I went through boxes and boxes of my grandmother's jewelery. Most of the pieces were fancy costume pieces. She never pierced her ears, but she loved earrings. She also had dozens of broaches. Spangly and colorful. As we looked through her pieces, I think we saw the 40s to the 80s in her pieces - Bakelite, rhinestones, crystals, all the way to pure plastic. I only kept a few pieces, including a set of fake pearls that my grandfather gave her. Every time I wear them, it makes me feel a little closer to them both. In one of the jewelery boxes was a telegram. The words had been printed on a Telex (google this if you don't know what it is) and pasted to the Western Union telegram. It was interesting seeing a little piece of history. She still had all her old ID cards from the service, including those from when they were overseas. Her international driver's licence was paper with type (and handwritten) notations. Felt like I was in some sort of family historical museum. There was even my grandfather's dog tags. Four in all. One for each grandchild. We found some old receipts (including a Pan Am plane ticket) and papers and even a credit card (it was 1/3 of the size of today's cards).
Grandma D has not been doing well for the past year and a half. After she fell and broke her femur, she never did return home. Never did drive again (although this was good thing, as we thought she shouldn't be on the road anymore, irregardless). She always talked like she was going home. Didn't want things to change. Thought she be up and about in a matter of time. Her zestful spirit was a stubborn one, and when she refused to cooperate with the physical therapist and get out of bed, she started sinking further away from us. My parents found an adult care home (in a person's house - 5 residents total) less than a mile from their house. She began to slip into a different place from ours, thinking my father was still a boy or that they were living back on the farm in Minnesota. Every now and then though, she'd surprise you, and say something that let you glimpse the old grandma D.
So here's to my grandmother, who liked to "tell it like it is." Here's my way to tell it: Goodbye and safe travels on your journey to heaven. I know you'll give St. Peter a run for his money at the Gates. We will miss you. We love you.
It's to my grandmother that I now must say goodbye. I selfishly want to be able for her to meet her future great grandchildren, for wanting her to be with our family for years to come. Instead, fate had other plans. So instead of saying goodbye, I'll say hello to all the wonderful things I remember about her --
All the times she took me to the club, where we had (and I still to this day think this) the world's best hamburgers. I remember eating a hamburger and having a root beer. I don't think I ever waiting a half hour before running back into the pool. She kept her membership for years after her body was willing to let her play golf just so us grandkids could go to the pool and have burgers during our summer breaks.
The one time, gosh I was so embarrassed, but laugh at something only a cantankerous grandmother can do, that she'd just picked me up from a cross-country flight and I was starving. We stopped at Burgerville (yum - I just avoid the "secret" sauce which I'm pretty sure isn't ketchup + thousand island dressing). We kept waiting and waiting at the drive through and to my horror, my grandmother yelled into the speaker "is this fast food or what?"
Or the time that we drove up the Gorge and she took me to tea The Gorge Hotel (back when it was still a grand old place). We stopped at Bonneville dam and told me all kinds of stories about working at BPA. It was a like a second family for her; she was a like a little den mother to all these reprobate line men who were getting a firm hand of guidance (and chocolate cookies from time to time). In return, she developed lasting friendships that she carried with her until she died.
She always remembered what us grandkids liked, and year after year made sure she got it for us. She helped us out when we needed it, giving me the present of paying off a small college loan when I graduated from undergraduate and giving us seed money for the 1st home ES and I purchased.
Even as I child I remember her having stuff, a lot of stuff. So much stuff that there was a path through the garage from her car to the door. So much stuff we just to joke about the Mickey Mouse doll she bought when I was 8 that was meant to be a Christmas present. It was never to be seen again. When we started going through her house, we found so many things that were never opened. Dishes and small appliances (although used) that made been meticulously put back in their original boxes and put back in the garage. I opened a closet and thought "if there's ever a wrapping paper famine, we'll not go uncovered." She had dozens of rolls for every conceivable occasion. Things to make bows, and ribbons.
Although the garage was choked full of stuff, she knew where everything was. If you'd ask her where the ziplock bags were, she'd tell you the 3rd cabinet past the baked beans, but before the creamed corn. Perhaps it was growing up when she did, as I think she was always afraid of running out of things, especially food. I think as she got older, it was more that the things became a substitute for having others around her. They gave her comfort and until she left the house, it remained relatively unchanged for years.
She was a great crafter. Evidence of this lies all over my parents house, mainly at Christmas. She made our Christmas stockings. We all still have ours, it's just that now we've integrated them into our own families. Tree skirts, Christmas decorations/hangups, bells, Christmas balls. She was very talented and looked arts and crafts. She only gave it up, when her arthritis got to be too much.
I remember that she was always taking me out - dinner, shopping, a drive. We had such fun together. I liked to give her a hard time and she gave it right back to me. Although I still remember the one time (I think I was 14 or 15), that I went into Nordstorms (just for a sec...turned into a lot longer than that) and she thought I had been kidnapped or something. This was days before cell phones and Amber alerts. She didn't take me shopping much after that for quite awhile. I think she was afraid on the next time in, I'd not come back.
She used to joke that I inherited her love of coats, purses, and shoes. Ask my husband, this is no joke.
She was working on a project for all the grandkids when she had her fall. She was sorting family photos (some way back to her childhood and before) for each of the grandkids. We stumbled upon the boxes in one of the bedrooms. We took out the boxes and started looking through photos. I'd ask my dad who this and that person was. Trouble is, without any writing, and lots of siblings on my grandmothers side (including twins with rhyming names - Merle and Earl) it was often difficult to tell. I found a few of my dad, including one where he and the neighborhood kids were making mud pies. Back before the toys did all your playing for you.
One memory that I wish I could have had was of her playing golf. She lived and breathed the sport. She was quite good in her day. And she had an amazing golf bag. Bright faux alligator skinned bag with professional clubs. Steel stafted. Today's clubs are graphite. These are a lot more friendly on the arms. Less reverb. They just have the panache however, of my grandma's clubs. She gave them to me when I moved out to NY and I have them to this day.
My mother and I went through boxes and boxes of my grandmother's jewelery. Most of the pieces were fancy costume pieces. She never pierced her ears, but she loved earrings. She also had dozens of broaches. Spangly and colorful. As we looked through her pieces, I think we saw the 40s to the 80s in her pieces - Bakelite, rhinestones, crystals, all the way to pure plastic. I only kept a few pieces, including a set of fake pearls that my grandfather gave her. Every time I wear them, it makes me feel a little closer to them both. In one of the jewelery boxes was a telegram. The words had been printed on a Telex (google this if you don't know what it is) and pasted to the Western Union telegram. It was interesting seeing a little piece of history. She still had all her old ID cards from the service, including those from when they were overseas. Her international driver's licence was paper with type (and handwritten) notations. Felt like I was in some sort of family historical museum. There was even my grandfather's dog tags. Four in all. One for each grandchild. We found some old receipts (including a Pan Am plane ticket) and papers and even a credit card (it was 1/3 of the size of today's cards).
Grandma D has not been doing well for the past year and a half. After she fell and broke her femur, she never did return home. Never did drive again (although this was good thing, as we thought she shouldn't be on the road anymore, irregardless). She always talked like she was going home. Didn't want things to change. Thought she be up and about in a matter of time. Her zestful spirit was a stubborn one, and when she refused to cooperate with the physical therapist and get out of bed, she started sinking further away from us. My parents found an adult care home (in a person's house - 5 residents total) less than a mile from their house. She began to slip into a different place from ours, thinking my father was still a boy or that they were living back on the farm in Minnesota. Every now and then though, she'd surprise you, and say something that let you glimpse the old grandma D.
So here's to my grandmother, who liked to "tell it like it is." Here's my way to tell it: Goodbye and safe travels on your journey to heaven. I know you'll give St. Peter a run for his money at the Gates. We will miss you. We love you.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Atlantic Canada and New England – Our Trip – Part III
Day 7 – New Brunswick
We got up bright and early and had a lovely breakfast at the Hunter’s Point Inn in PEI. Although the house was only heated with a central wood stove (and the Inn was a good size), it was nice and toasty warm in the breakfast area.
After breakfast, we hoped in the car and made our way down the western side of the island to the Confederation Bridge. Although we’d come to PEI on the ferry, it was fastest to get back to Halifax via the bridge and New Brunswick. It was a relatively clear day, and we managed to get some good pictures of the bridge. It was quite a long ride over (~25 min) from PEI to NB.
Since we only had a day to drive through NB to get to Halifax, we made only a few stops.
The first was at a series of dunes, where the guidebook claimed lots of pure white sand. Just as a funny side note, when we got to NB, we saw lots of moose signs which seemed (and perhaps this was only my imagination) to portray the moose as a giant (aka 2x larger than a car). You can see for yourself in the photo below.
From the picture of the bridge, you can see how reddish brown the sand is for the most part there, so we decided to drive over and see a different set of beaches on the opposite coast. Turned out they were more like the usual US east coast beach color, but still pretty none the less. What was striking was how windy (and therefore cold) it was on the north coast of NB. Surprisingly, there were still people at the visitor’s center and we got some information before heading out to walk on the boardwalk on the dunes and through the neighboring woods. The park was called La Dune de Boutouche.
We spent the morning at the dunes and headed into the town of Moncton, NB for lunch. It was rather a sad little college town and after not finding anywhere of note to each, defaulted to Tim Hortons. By the end of the trip, I was a bit tired of TH’s. Coffee and donuts can only take you so far in the morning…
On our way out of New Brunswick to Nova Scotia, we stopped at a National Heritage Site that was a militarily strategic site (to whomever held it at the given time) where on the bluff one could see both provinces. Although it was closed, we could still drive in and walk about the park, as a small film was being shot at the park that day. When ES and I asked one of the crew what it was about, we were told “short, historical film.” Perhaps coming to a museum near you.
We hopped back in the car and headed on our way to back to Nova Scotia.
We’d tried to go to Bay of Fundy National Park in the morning on our way from PEI. Unfortunately, the tides were against us and it was high tide right before 12. We’d not have seen any of the “famous” Bay of Fundy sites on the NB side, so we tried our luck on the Nova Scotia side. One of the best places to see the tides of the Bay of Fundy was at the UNESCO World Heritage Site at Joggins. We were excited to find our way here with an hour of time to browse the museum and wander down to the beach below. It was pretty empty (one of the last days of the season it was open) and one of the staff walked through with us giving us the highlights of the collection. It’s claim to fame is that it’s home to the world’s oldest reptile fossils. Lots of fossils just along the cliffs, which we could easily see from the beach and in the museum itself. Quite a treat. When we headed outside, it was a little under an hour closest to low tide and and the water line was several kilometers back from the shore. Indeed, the world’s most dramatic tides from high to low happen here. It was pretty incredible.
We watched the sunset and piled back in the car for the 2+ hours down into Nova Scotia, and stayed at a town just shy of Halifax for the night.
Day 8 – Halifax – The Museums
By week’s end, we were ready for a little city exploring and for getting out and doing a bit more walking than car touring tends to allow. Halifax is on one big hill overlooking a bay that spills right into the ocean. Very strategic, but also very hilly. Interestingly enough, they had a series of tunnels that went through the city, which combined with escalators, stairs, and/or elevators, made the trip swift and much preferred to the very cold outdoors (one of the drawbacks of going in October).
We visited the Maritime Museum, the Immigration Museum, and a few various landmarks along the Halifax harbor (runs 2+ kilometers along the shore). Although it was chilly and windy, we kept going inside enough to things that we didn’t become completely frozen.
Pictures of the Maritime Museum. We saw the 3-D “Titantic” movie. Ok, but not really worth the extra $$ to see it.
Pictures of the Immigration Museum: (note – although the guys in the photo at the mocked up immigration desk doesn’t look happy at the fact I’ve just taken his picture, I did ask first…).
Pictures along the water and near the waterfront area:
We ended the day at the Wooden Monkey – a very yummy restaurant right across the street from our hotel (The Prince George). Although not normally a fan of the Manhattan variety of chowder, this was made from all fresh and local ingredients and was heavenly. ES had a chicken salad with pita. All of it was homemade and really good. So good, in fact, that we broke our usual rule of only eating someplace once so that we keep trying new ones. We went back the next night, too.
Day 9 – Halifax – The Citadel and Victorian Gardens
It was still a pretty cold and miserable outside (and raining off and on), but we ventured out (and up) to the Citadel. Like other Canadian Citadels (we’ve been to the one in Quebec City as well), this one was star shaped and up on the highest part of the city. Unlike the one in Quebec, this is decommissioned and is now operated as a park. We hiked up the stairs and got there early enough so that we saw the museum there in relative quietness (aka before the tour busses arrived en mass). A woman was walking through the exhibits at the same pace we were just behind us. ES mentioned something to me, and she spoke up that she was a little girl during the war (we were at the WWII section of the exhibits). It was quite interesting hearing her perspective, as she was now a Canadian, but was originally from Britain.
We saw the changing of the guards and didn’t quite make it through the now throngs of people to hear the noon day gun fire, but we sure did hear it. We saw staff members plug their ears, so we took a cue and did the same. Good thing – it was loud even with our ears covered.
The surrounding view of the city was pretty amazing from the top, even on a cold and grey gloomy day.
We took a quick lunch break to eat down along the water front at the famous Saltys. I have hand breaded fried clams. Not normally one to each much fried food, but these were a treat. I’ve never had fresh clams prepared this way and they were really good.
After lunch, headed back up the hill to the Public Gardens. They’d been designated so since the 1800’s. Thankfully, they were still open for the year and we strolled around the grounds. We saw lots of swans, ducks, and LBBs (little brown birds). Flowers were pretty much gone for the season and the leaves were now in the process of falling off the trees. However, still a lovely site and a pretty place to visit.
We wrapped up night two with dinner at the Wooden Monkey and turned in a bit early, as we had an early flight back to the States in the wee hours of the morning.
Day 10 – Massachusetts, New Hampshire (for about 15 min – literally), and finally Maine
We flew into Boston the following morning. It was nice to be back in the States. We picked up our rental car and headed up to Portland, Maine to see my best’est of friends. It was a pretty drive up through Maine, the 15 min of New Hampshire, and the southern portion of Maine. While it was nice to be back in US soil, we’d used up all of our remaining US money and didn’t think to stop at an ATM in the airport…A word…Tolls. We lived on the East Coast for many years, and we should have remembered these. Alas, I think our years away erased the memories of our “Easy Pass” from our minds as we were now back in “Toll Town” as ES called it. We literally were 10 feet out of the airport and boom – first toll. I think the toll operators at this booth must hear the same sob story time after time, as he just handed us an envelope and said “no problem, you can mail it in.” We stopped at the next town where we could find a bank ATM.
We soon made it up to Portland to JB and SB’s house. We’d not yet met their little wee one EJ, and were excited to finally see her.
She was a real charmer and such a sweet disposition. SB and I went to pick up Scout from the airport, as she was flying in for the weekend too. A mini grad school friends reunion. It was so great to see everyone, as it had been several years since ES and my wedding that we’d all been together. We did the usual shrieking all excited and hugs at the airport.
We cooked out that night, with JB smoking some meat and ES helping. The lady folks stayed inside and cooked and told stories and just laughed. It was like time had never passed and we were back in grad school getting together for our usual weekend dinners, except we were eating a lot better (aka real meat) than we used to eat (hot dogs and lots of pasta) back in grad school. I really cherish these friendships -- good friends who laugh, cry, and will always be there for you 100%.
Day 11 – Portland, Maine
We spent the next morning hanging out at the 3 B’s. We ate bagels from this really yummy bakery (Sprinkles, I think) in Portland. JB and ES went out to pick us up some grub while us ladies made coffees and hung out with little EJ and Mrs. S.
We headed to downtown Portland to walk around and do a little shopping. Little EJ looked so cute in her little flowered hat and shoes. We had fun browsing in the downtown shops.
ES, Scout, and I headed to waterfront and took a little walk around the shore. We saw an old boat launch, some off shore boats, and a little scenic train go by (Scout decided she wanted to chase it). They waved us to from the train and we even got a whistle.
Day 12 – Portland, Maine
After a return trip to Sprinkles (bagels were just so good), we hung out at the house and had a nice time visiting on Friday. Scout had to leave mid-day so it was bitter sweet.
Day 13 – Portland, Maine and Boston, Massachusetts
ES and I spent the morning with SB touring the Portland Headlight. The lighthouse was quite striking, as was the surrounding rocks. We only had the morning left for our visit, as we needed to begin the drive back to Boston and wanted to get there before Friday rush hour set in.
Day 14 – Seattle, WA and onwards to home
After a couple weeks of traveling, we hopped back on a plane home and flew to Seattle. We drove back home and took one more day of rest before heading back to reality (aka work…).
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Snow, Ice, and Sleet - Oh My!
I grew up in snow. Real snow storms. Wyoming snow. The kind that snow feet and they still don't consider cancelling school. I remember skiing (yes - skiing) on our cross-country skis into town when weather hit and staying with friends. It was like camping out, except we still had school. You just knew how to drive, walk, shovel, and generally navigate in the stuff. Only when the winds kicked up and you had complete white outs did things start to get dicey.
Even when we moved to OH and I later to upstate NY, we still have snow. Lots of snow. Lake effect where storms would often be measured in feet. I love the stuff. Cut my teeth driving a 4x4 Bronco II (forerunner to the 1st generation Ford Explorer back when it was the size of the Ford Escape). The stores didn't loose their supplies of bread, milk, and toilet paper.
So I have to chuckle when I see the great lengths that people go to when we get storms here. An inch of snow results in 2 hour delays. Sometimes cancellations. We're supposed to get 4-6 inches tomorrow - Friday. I predict a mass extinction of toilet paper, milk, and bread over the next few days....
Even when we moved to OH and I later to upstate NY, we still have snow. Lots of snow. Lake effect where storms would often be measured in feet. I love the stuff. Cut my teeth driving a 4x4 Bronco II (forerunner to the 1st generation Ford Explorer back when it was the size of the Ford Escape). The stores didn't loose their supplies of bread, milk, and toilet paper.
So I have to chuckle when I see the great lengths that people go to when we get storms here. An inch of snow results in 2 hour delays. Sometimes cancellations. We're supposed to get 4-6 inches tomorrow - Friday. I predict a mass extinction of toilet paper, milk, and bread over the next few days....
Holiday High Lights
It was our year to spend Christmas with my family. Once you couple up, and unless you're lucky enough to have both families within driving distance, chances are you're doing Christmas at various families alternate years. Last December, we spent the last week of the month in Albuquerque, New Mexico with ES' family. NM is beautiful in December and the tradition of putting out lumenarias all over the central plaza in the old part of town (in other towns such as Santa Fe too) is really beautiful. This year, we headed to Vancouver, WA for Christmas with my family. The Portland/Vancouver area is also really pretty during the holidays. The gorge was beautiful as we headed down.
It was so sweet seeing Christmas through the eyes of child. My little nephew, MB is over 3 now. He told me all about Santa and being a good boy and how Santa had "big boots" and "white beard."
We had fun opening our gifts from "Santa". Amazingly, Santa took on many identities that night. We had cold poached salmon, green beans, and cheesy potatoes. Topped off with my mother's famous peanut butter balls and other yummy confections.
We ended the night (and the next few nights) playing Scrabble. I'd gotten ES "Super Scrabble," which is a jumbo board with 2x the tiles. Lots of premium letter spots. ES noted that Scrabble is a blood sport in my family. Very true. Lots of challenges, bluffing, and a little luck. Usually my dad wins, but every now and then someone else wins (what he calls "even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes).
We visited the Grotto the next day, a Shrine in Portland. It was a wickedly cold day, so we all bundled up. As much as we teased my dad about his hat, we were all secretly jealous, as we knew it was keeping him very warm.
We spent our final day down visiting with my brother and his family. ES and I played with their 2 little boys and had a ball. KB made a really yummy lasagne for dinner and cobbler for dessert. We drove back to my parents for our final night. We drove back through snow, reminding us that although the weather may look good 4 days out before you go, you should take the train. December is too fickle in the Gorge.
It was so sweet seeing Christmas through the eyes of child. My little nephew, MB is over 3 now. He told me all about Santa and being a good boy and how Santa had "big boots" and "white beard."
We had fun opening our gifts from "Santa". Amazingly, Santa took on many identities that night. We had cold poached salmon, green beans, and cheesy potatoes. Topped off with my mother's famous peanut butter balls and other yummy confections.
We ended the night (and the next few nights) playing Scrabble. I'd gotten ES "Super Scrabble," which is a jumbo board with 2x the tiles. Lots of premium letter spots. ES noted that Scrabble is a blood sport in my family. Very true. Lots of challenges, bluffing, and a little luck. Usually my dad wins, but every now and then someone else wins (what he calls "even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes).
We visited the Grotto the next day, a Shrine in Portland. It was a wickedly cold day, so we all bundled up. As much as we teased my dad about his hat, we were all secretly jealous, as we knew it was keeping him very warm.
We spent our final day down visiting with my brother and his family. ES and I played with their 2 little boys and had a ball. KB made a really yummy lasagne for dinner and cobbler for dessert. We drove back to my parents for our final night. We drove back through snow, reminding us that although the weather may look good 4 days out before you go, you should take the train. December is too fickle in the Gorge.
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