Thank God we're home--I can finally listen to Taylor Swift. I heard "Love Story" on the radio at some point during the last five days but didn't have her on my ipod. She's been on since we got home last night--situation remedied.
On Thursday, my parents and I left for the Maine roadtrip we'd originally planned to go on at the end of August. But then came a hurricane, and we couldn't go until this past weekend.
There is nothing better than bringing a pillow and blanket in the car with you on a roadtrip. To passing cars you will look like a 12 year-old boy (with the haircut to prove it. I think I'm on a boy's number 3 right now), but you will sleep like a lamb.
On the way up, I got to confirm that Cracker Barrel is the biggest hoax America has ever pulled on its citizens. It is terrrrible. Do not go there. Do not let the rocking chairs fool you. Although it is the perfect place to purchase something like this:
We had originally planned to go to a bunch of beach towns up the coast of Maine, but the sky spat on us for almost the whole weekend. Since there's nothing bleaker than a gray beach town in the off-season, we skipped up to Portland, which smelled like a fish tank, then Freeport, which is where LL Bean was founded. Not many people know it, but LL Bean started off as a clothing company that manufactured apparel to giants before he realized the real money was in clothing smaller people.
There is a store called Abacus that has a few locations around Maine, where they sell stuff I want for exorbitant prices.
This costs $300, but it's totally functional. Right?
The main reason of the trip was to get to this potter's gallery in Edgecomb. My mom's been wanting to go for years. It is the Mecca of Pottery. Where else do you see glazes like this?
The goal was to stay in Bed and Breakfasts the whole trip, but the only time we actually got to was in Boothbay Harbor. What a charming little place. The bathroom was filled with delicious smelling soap, and there were cookies and a dog and a wall between my parents' bed and mine, which did a lot to stifle the sounds of their snoring.
We rounded out the trip with a stop in Salem, Mass. Even though my mom warned me it was pretty touristy, I was still expecting to walk onto the set of Hocus Pocus. Unfortunately, Thora Birch was nowhere to be found, but we did get to witness a goth wedding. We walked down a red brick street and found an old-looking building with its doors wide open and a guy in what I thought was a costume standing inside. I figured since this was Salem, the town makes it their business to have guys in crusty tails and top hats walking around. We walked in and down a middle aisle with rows of chairs on either side, finally coming to a table where this
and a bunch of other Pagan looking stuff was laying. "Did we miss the Satanic ritual?" my dad asked. When we got to the open doors on the other side of the building, I saw other people in similar costumes milling about, but it wasn't until we were walking down the front steps through the purple velvet-clad bridal party that I realized we just walked through a wedding. "Sorry sorry sorry," we said we we scuttled down the steps. Minutes later, (with an attempt at inconspicuousness) we watched as the bride and groom emerged from the doors. The bride could only take tiny, geisha-like steps because the black latex wedding dress she was wearing was so tight.
"Vampires gotta get married, too, I guess," a dad with his family said to his kids who were openly gaping.
I thought it was pretty perfect. I wish them well, and I hope the honeymoon in Transylvania is everything they've ever dreamed of.
Not the bride and groom
We also took a tour of the House of the Seven Gables, which Nathaniel Hawthorne based the novel on. Our tour guide sounded like the Mad Hatter with a really horrible Boston accent. We bought the book on CD to listen to on the way home, and I was asleep in minutes.
Not as spooky as one would think.
We made the Port Jeff ferry by like, two cars, and we saw the most amazing sunset I've ever seen over the water.
Pictures don't do it justice. The sky looked like molten gold.
In Hodge news--I had the radiation tattoo sesh last week. I was expecting to be there for at least 3 hours, but I was out within 30 minutes. After a cat scan, the tech said it was time to do the markings. So I felt my face get really hot and prepared for what actual tattoos feel like, but it was the tiniest of pricks. I actually felt the wetness of the ink more so than the needle itself. He used a non-electric needle with separate ink, like a stick and poke tattoo, but probably way more sterilized. I have four teeny dots that when connected would make a cross on my torso--one in the middle of my chest, one on my tum and two on my sides. They're barely noticeable. I go for my first treatment tomorrow, then the GI doctor on Thursday.
I figure it's time to seriously get my feelers out for a job soon, so I've sent out a few resumes and contacted the head hunter Sara used to get her job. I've already got the fantastic friends and a fantas---sorry, decent---apartment, so it's time for the fantastic job, right? Right.
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