It was quite a weekend, here in the Ryan Hood. We went to Maine to see my Mom (who is miraculously ALIVE this Mother's Day...Hooray!!!!) and had brunch with my parents at this gorgeous little restaurant overlooking a golf course. I was suffering from a bout of city-itis, so it was good for my weary soul to see green grass, flowers, and a guy in a pink plaid golf shirt sprawled out near the pond trying to retrieve a lost ball.
Then yesterday, Steve and I decided, "lets take a drive - see the ocean on the north shore, get some fried clams - it will be fun!" You know, the romance of setting out without a destination, sure the road will unveil wonderful adventure and exciting opportunities? Mmm hmm. Right. We hoped on Route 127, because it would take us all up the coast. What it didn't take us by was, 1. a bathroom; or 2. food. We drove for THREE HOURS - nothing. (Funny how much less appealing the vast, wave-filled Atlantic is when your bladder is about to burst from it's own vast wavy-ness.) Finally, we stopped in this creepy little town and burst into a very formal restaurant (it had a swan theme???) horrifying the staff in our flip flops and fleece jackets. I used the ladies room (swan-covered wall paper - towels - fixtures) and then we bolted out the door. I was hungry, but no way did I want a swan burger. Another HOUR later, we turned a little corner and saw what appeared to be a little slice of heaven, right there on the windy road: it was a rustic Clam Shack overlooking the marsh. "Look honey," I said, weary with hunger, "dreams do come true!" We placed our order, then settled in, certain happiness was close at hand. Mmm hmm.
Two HOURS later, we received our plates of clams (by this point I was hallucinating, wondering if I could make a meal out of tarter sauce, ketchup, and discarded straw wrappers)
Sometimes, as the wise Dorothy said after her long trek to Oz, There's no place like home...
In happier news though, THIS movie was on cable last night, reminding us that when all else fails, apply some Windex :)