Counting Sheep

Man, all it takes is one good trip and I'm feeling the urge to write. It also could be because I now also want to eat, smell, and basically live again.. after a two month bout of morning sickness. Yeah, I'd have to say that affected my wanting to do anything but lay on the couch and stare at the ceiling. 

Alas, I am on the up-and-up and decided that we deserved a trip to celebrate. Really it was for R's 30th birthday coming up in April, but he let me share in the celebration. 

We'd been planning to go backpacking in Israel last week, from Nazareth to the Sea of Galilee and R especially was excited. This was his destination of choice... not necessarily mine, but I don't argue if someone wants to go somewhere. Please just take me along, I could care less where it is. So after 5 months of planning, everything broke loose in that area of the world and we slowly came to the decision to change our plans.

And by slowly, I mean that R had escalated his justification of our trip to this, "Oh settle down, Carrie. If the Palestinian Rebels were to take us, just fight until they kill you."

[silence]

So England it was, and we changed our tickets literally the day before takeoff. This went against every control-freak, planning cell in my body, but I was consoled with the thought that London was perhaps the easiest European city to fly to with many options, and possibly the cheapest. It was a good bet, last minute.

We already had our backpacking gear ready, so we decided to hike The Cotswolds Trail for a few days, followed by Bath and then London.

Oh, The Cotswolds.... If there's one word to describe this area, it would be: Sheep.

And more sheep. And more sheep.

At one point R started to count a herd.

And got to 9 before falling asleep in the field.

We met up in the next town to continue our walk. Stay tuned for country lanes and thatched roofs. I could live there.

What have I been up to?

Nothing much, honestly. Reading on gardening and picking out seeds, harboring a second bout with back pain that is slowly getting better, and riding the waves of enjoyment and loss as we watched our rabbits (finally) have a small litter and then lose them.

But other than that, nothing much.

So let's go over the last part of December, which was jam packed with warmth; from friends, family, and indeed the sun.

R had a rough couple of months; working long hours and generally stressing out. So we booked a quick trip to Florida to rest up.



I found a little place that got good reviews and was decidedly within our budget. Ever since sleeping in a hut steps from the ocean with no a/c or hot water, I can't bring myself to spend money on a room. The hut (click here) had to be my favorite beach side experience.

This cutie of a building was juxtaposed right next to some towering ones which I'm sure charged double ours, and I smiled at our good luck. Plus, we had a tiny bar & grill located on the first floor. Isn't that all you need?

I apparently couldn't spend money on a taxi either, because I forced R to bus it from the airport. $3.50 vs $50? Um, we're hanging with the locals, R. Somehow we made it the entire way without spending a dime, as the driver felt sorry for both us and a couple from Amsterdam for not knowing what we were doing.



We were only there for a couple days, so each morning we rushed downstairs to fall back asleep under the rising sun.



And then we'd wake up to take long walks along the deserted beach. Note to self: only travel during the week. What uncrowded bliss!



After our jaunt, we'd plop back down onto our chairs for a pina colada, or other rest-inducing drink.



I'd look over occasionally and find R testing out his US Army survival manual that he chose to bring along, by trying to light stuff on fire through his glasses.



I would periodically sit on the hammocks to remind myself to never stay where there is a bar & grill so nearby again.



Or we'd go body surfing for a couple hours. I was the judge this time around.



We'd see guys running around with a football, and R would have gaze longingly at them. He stood nearby like how all young kids do when they want to play, but don't want to ask. Politely, with hands behind the back.

Alas, he was never asked.

After our beachside retreat ended, I called up my cousin that lives in the area. She picked us up and promptly took us to a 5-star quality dinner... in their backyard! I have never, never had such thick and well-prepared steak before, in restaurants or at home. It was delightful, and B served us up some official drinks along the way.



I mean, has anyone ever used that measuring cup before? I didn't even know what it was.. maybe to hold whole eggs for an English dinner?

No, it actually has a use, and by golly she used it. I was impressed.



After they put their son to bed, we headed outside to the hot tub for loud laughs and fun conversation, and even an occasional push into the pool.

And yes, they provided us with robes! Where are we?? This is a long cry from the hut, my friends.



Thus ended a great few day escape for the two of us. If I could put that trip into a bottle, I would. It'd sell, I'm sure of it.

And the winner is...

What happens when you mix two girls, one of which is due soon, and two dueling chicken restaurants in Pittsburg, KS?  Honestly?Mostly heartburn. But at least there's laughter along the way.

My friend, J, and I met up at Fort Scott, KS to enjoy one last get together before baby H is born. We were coming from opposite directions so this little town seemed a good midway point. I found a hotel right smack in the middle of downtown, in which all streets were bricked.

You know that made me happy.

We pulled up to our hotel, waved at the owner and hopped out.

Move it, J. I know you've just driven a couple hours and need to relax, but we've got some eating to do... and Momma Carolyn is hungry.

Here was the plan:

 

 

VS

 

 

This is not for the faint of heart, my friends. You need to train diligently for this type of assault. No sit-ups, no portioning, and definitely no dieting. Eat grease, nap, and conveniently forget where you put the scale.

I've been in training for this night it seems since the day I was born.



But first, we had to check out the barracks.

And this was our first test. Could we walk in to a multitude of patterns on the bed and the wall without losing focus? J held up well. I, on the other hand, had to sit down and put my head between my legs for a second.

Luckily I only wear solids, otherwise J would've lost me in there.



We didn't waste any time, but headed to our first destination: Chicken Mary's.

Before I get into our analysis of each restaurant, can I point out that J only has two months to go before she's due (not to mention the fact that she's wearing horizontal stripes!)? Don't make me cuss, J.

She looks like me after Thanksgiving dinner. So I was more than happy to shove fried chicken in her mouth.

I don't have as many photos of Chicken Mary's as I do Chicken Annie's, so I'll give you a brief description. We walked in and me, being a bundle of nerves, walked up to the check out lady and asked her seat us. She pointed us to the right person who graciously led us to a corner table. The room was busy and it felt cozy. Country decor, candle on the table.

The waitress, whose name we did not write down (oh yes, folks, we took notes) advised us to *not* drink the tap water. She looked horrified at our suggestion that we could.

J loved the potato salad, stating "It has a dill taste." This is of course after she took a nibble and rolled it around in her mouth like a Top Chef judge. I could only taste potato.  The applesauce was sweeter than Motts, which we later found out had cherry mixed in.

We loved the thigh, to which we agreed, that once you go thigh you just can't go back. The fried skin on all pieces were perfect: crunchy & greasy, or, how we justified it, "juicy."

Then it was off to Chicken Annie's.



We walked there from Chicken Mary's as they are literally side by side, and appreciated the brief reprieve from grease. I spotted a windmill and it instantly got a plus sign in my book.

We entered into a more open floorplan, which made it seem less busy. I had no confusion as to who was the hostess. She took us to a corner table as well, however this one was not yet ready and the cooks in the kitchen yelled at someone to come clean it. Open floorplan, remember.

I guess Annie would've yelled from the kitchen too. Authenticity? check.



Our waitress, Carly, instantly sat down with us to discuss the menu.

She said to J, and I quote "You can drink it. I like the water, but I'm weird." Chicken Mary's - no water. Chicken Annie's - yes water.

We're getting somewhere.

We devoured our meal and discussed:

J thought the potato salad was greasier, with more of saur kraut taste. I could only taste potato. The applesauce was plain. The chicken skins were not extra crispy and the white meat surprisingly ended up being juicer than the dark.



By the looks of my hands, it appears that I was slowly turning into a chicken myself.



Let's take a look at a few more comparisons:

• CM - no stuffed chicken in lobby. CA - chicken proudly displayed.


• CM - smaller butter, but no trans fat. CA - HUGE, but with hydrogenated oil.


• CM - no arcade corner/living room. CA - yes, in which we both dilly-dallied.


• CM - total $12.45  CA - total $9.39 (however, I did buy a lottery ticket at CA and won a dollar, so make that $8.39)


• CM - only lettering on sign. CA - lettering and a chicken that spoke.

The verdict?

Chicken Mary's won on the actual chicken dish. Chicken Annies? Ambiance & Creativity. Who can beat looking eye to eye with the animal you just enjoyed.

Did you think we ended there, though?



Heck no! We took our wild and crazy selves, back to our 20-toned room for some dessert. Chocolate on graham crackers, cheeze whiz style.

J asked if I could make her one. Little did she know that my chocolate to cracker ratio is about 300 to 1.

She didn't touch it.



Afterwards, we watched TV and knitted for a couple hours. Looks like I was trying to knit a spider web of sorts.

But it didn't take long before we fell asleep into a grease-induced coma.



The next morning we hopped on a guided tour of Fort Scott.

We were the only ones on it.

The announcer said that if we had any questions, to feel free and ask him. I did several times and he never answered. Ah, I felt right at home, Fort Scott. Or shall I call you Scott from now on?



The town has got some real beauties of architecture. I was so engrossed with it that I didn't realize how stupid it was to not have a lid on my steaming coffee. Several third-degree burns later, I was still enjoying the views.

It was a quick trip; we only stayed a night and left before noon the next day. But like every time I hang out with J, it's never the amount of time, but the quality. I so enjoy her! Can't wait to make these trips a trio with baby H.

The Battle of Caaahrthage

We fought the battle and won, my friends.



You know, the "weekend spent with 3 sisters, a sister-in-law, and a mother all in the attic of a bed & breakfast during their wine festival without killing each other" battle.

Any time a night hasn't ended with a drink thrown in your face and the silent treatment, consider it a victory.

But it really wasn't hard. And we were tested. Oh yes, we were tested.



Try going to the bathroom in front of four people in a space with no partitions.

No amount of magazines will help that situation.



But, to be true, we won probably because I paced myself....



..or because of the $20 lipstick complete with a built in lighted mirror. You know, in case you go spelunking in a cave with some girlfriends and need to freshen up.

This little gem just might have been the saving grace.



After our freshening up, we stepped out onto the front lawn to have a lunch while sampling the local vendors.

I've often wondered if I couldn't sell at one of these events. With all the grapes left in the back of the fridge, some of them are bound to ferment, right?



After several moves around the lawn and a couple more samples, we hit the town.

Dancing? Why yes, but not us this time.



The Kansas City Marching Cobras happened to be in Carthage this particular weekend! My sister L looked on like a proud mother as she was the only one of us who had seen them before. She continually asked us if we were sure we wanted to go see them, and then afterwards thanked us all for coming as if she hosted the group in her living room.

The Marching Cobras was started up in KC as a way for inner city kids to have a positive outlet, while also having to maintain a certain gpa, etc. They were a nice addition to our weekend!



When we arrived back at the B&B, we convinced the owners to turn on the twinkle lights on the front porch. Oh, to have a spacious, stone front porch like this one.

I would invest in only white linen dresses, cinched at the waist and insist that my hair be pulled up in a loose bun. Sigh.

We sat around sampling more wines, shoving chinese food down our gullets,



while L put on more lipstick.

We talked around the table for a good couple hours before heading up to the attic where it felt like a scene from Little Women.

Why do I always have to play the role of Beth?



Unlike Beth, my heart did survive the night and the next morning we woke up to breakfast downstairs. This is the first time I've had to sit with the hosts and other guests at one table. It was awkward at first, since it felt a little intimate.

Luckily they were the talkative sort and kept up both their and my end of the conversation. Functional Introvert saved once again!

Mom had to wear her sunglasses because of the sun and I laughed inappropriately loud for so early in the morning. The host quickly served our first course after that loud guffaw.



A couple poems were read and some well-rehearsed stories were told by the hosts, then we parted ways from cute Carthage, MO.

Writing this post has made me realize that as soon as I do something, I need to write about it. I'm sure there were a ton of little nuances throughout the stay that made me come away with this feeling of having had such a good time, but for the life of me, I cannot recall them. But maybe that isn't true. Maybe it was just the feeling of being together that left a good mark on my memory. Kind of like reading a book on a crisp sunny afternoon that resulted in a more refreshed version of yourself than when you first sat down. Nothing in particular, but just the whole of the experience.

Thank you girlies!

Fall colors

Yes, she made it over the fence.. right into R's arms. I think she squealed too. I was *this* close to asking them to hang out with us all day. Just full of laughter they were and a good spirit surrounding them.

We finished up the trail and walked back to the car.



On the way, we spotted this bridge/gate/entrance which I asked R to try out.



And when we finally arrived home to our room, there was a small raspberry birthday cake waiting for us. Yes, we ate it all. Only because we couldn't take it home and didn't want it to go to waste. Really. We were being extremely selfless in our actions.



The next day our flight didn't leave until the evening, which ended up being cancelled and us staying an extra night. If we had known that was going to happen, we'd have rerouted our last hours.

So we drove north to the Vermont/Massachusetts border and walked along the Robert Frost trail. Anytime I think of Frost, I always revert back to my almost collision with the Grandaddy Spider of year 2000's descendant. He almost got me, but I've been on my toes since that fateful day in my basement bedroom. Click here to read.



We started on the paved trail, but after I ran into the woods for a potty break (R had to keep watch for cyclists, and counted down 10 seconds as a couple were coming), I spotted an unpaved trail through the woods. Talk about less travelled!  It was absolutely crucial to do this one and on we went...



...All the way until we found the official Robert Frost Trail mailbox. You know, for you to send letters to ole Bob.

So, I left one.



Hey Bobby, I took the road less travelled a few years back and I'm still itching from that rash. Thanks for that, Carolyn.

I figured he wanted feedback on that poem, you know. Better late than never.



On our way out, we gave one last glance to the Vermont countryside and headed home. We will be back to this part of the country again, you can count on it.

Fly me to the moon.

It really backfired on him, this surprising me with a trip and planning out the major details thing. Because, before, I would do all of the planning and never knew of this state of being called "laid-back." I just thought that was a synonym for lazy.

Um, no. It's not. In fact, it's a synonym for happy and hungry. Because that's what I was the whole trip.

I knew something was going down, folks, I'm not gonna lie. Everytime I suggested we do something over last weekend, my question was deflected. And R is normally not a planner. So for him to continually push aside someone else's pre-packaged idea raised red flags.

So did his question to me, "Carolyn, if we were going to go to Hot Springs, what make-up would you bring? No don't just point them out, pile them up at the end of the counter and leave them there."

Hmm... so I"m taking it we're going to Hot Springs. (This shows that I didn't think R planned ahead even to formulate a hypothetical situation.)



I went to work and R planned to pick me up with our muffler that happens to have an engine attached. When he pulled around, I squealed, "Hot Springs or bust!" and he smiled. All the way to the airport.

I love our airport. It's so tiny that Economy parking is a car lot away from the main doors. We get excited over things like that.

But he still wouldn't tell me where were going until the tickets were in my hand. And then they were.

New England! I squealed (again). We had been wanting to go up there for a while now, and this was just perfect timing....with the leaves and all.



Because I was in that particular state of being (happy - not hungry this time) and everything R did made me giggle. He took advantage, too. Like when decided to change his watch forward an hour by comparing the airline map with the view out the window to determine when the exact time changed.

I think I was delirious.



But I especially loved looking out the window and seeing the moon below us. I don't think I'd ever seen that before on a flight. Both Sinatra as well as Hey Diddle Diddle came to mind. And after the chicken bacon foot long sandwich I put down prior to take-off, like I was actually training to jump over the moon, I thought the latter was more appropriate.

By midnight we had arrived, and we still had an hour to the B&B. The owner, E, said to come whenever, that'd he'd wait up for us.



When we arrived, there E was. He opened up the door to our very victorian room and I was greeted with a Birthday sign, a bouquet of handpicked flowers, and sherry!

My nasal pitch got so loud, E had to close the door. As he bid us goodnight, he said he had another surprise tomorrow.

I'm liking this place already.



The next morning we ate a big breakfast, wandered around the grounds, got chased by a pit bull, and then I unpacked my suitcase that R lovingly put together. It weighed no less than 65 lbs and literally had my entire closet it in. Out of the 5 skirts and 7 shirts he brought, I decided on an outfit and searched in the pockets for my razor.

Where. is. my. razor.  (!!!)

He managed to pack up the entire Shack and somehow leave one crucial device behind. And considering I hadn't shaved since 1872, I was in desperate need. I went back down to the living room and tried to find one from that particular year, but they must have just run out.

Seems that even though their legs were covered up by layers and layers of stockings and bloomers and skirts and who knows what else, the Victorian ladies still shaved their legs more often than me.

My first plan of the weekend included a trip to the nearest Walgreens and a shaving in the car. I'm pretty classy.



It was gorgeous out, so R and I took advantage. We went to an open-air museum with a nautical theme. I've discovered I'm not a big boat buff. I mean, don't get me wrong. I really like them while I'm in them, with a floppy hat and a glass of wine. Looking at them and reading about the history of boats, ummm not so much.

So I spent the majority of the time trying to scare R staring at him stone-faced through various windows until he'd catch a glance. Problem is, everyone else looked first before R and I suddenly became known as that weirdo Shining lady.



R spent his time creeping me out by analyzing a doctor's office shelf. Seriously, what was all that used for. Wait, I don't want to know.

For lunch, we headed back to downtown Mystic, Connecticut and decided to go to none other than...



Mystic Pizza! I tried to channel my inner Julia Roberts, but could only squeeze out her 1980s bushy eyebrows.

Oh well, I'll take what I can get. And the pizza was fantastic! I love when something is not so over-hyped that the food takes a beating.

But hold on!R had another outing up his sleeve. We drove to Newport, Rhode Island which has now become my new favorite place to visit.



He had heard of a "cliff walk" that bordered the ocean. It snaked its way in front of the mansions and estates along the shore.



We picked up a couple small bottles of vino and slowly walked along sipping our drinks, holding hands, and wondering what it would be like to (clean) live in those beauties.

Outside one estate, we heard some people rustling in the bushes.



R found an opening in one and went through. I followed closely behind to find...



a couple escapees! It was the butler and the maid making a run for it. Okay, no it wasn't but they really did want to climb over the fence to join everyone on the Cliff Walk. R and I laughed so hard because the husband was not shy about lifting up her leg to hurl her over. So R stepped in to help.

Do you think she made it?

Stay tuned.