Holy shit, am I glad I hit up the East coast before it disintegrated!
It was a bit rainy when I went, and when we hit the ocean, it reminded me of that scene from The Road.. (the book)..
You know the one.
Where he takes a swim in the ocean, and comes out terrified?
Yeeeeeesh.
WHAT HAPPENED IN THERE?!
Lighthouses are a big deal in Maine. Along with antique stores.
People are freaks about them. I mean.. Everyone’s gotta have a thing..
Historical lighthouses are a thing that I have never, and will never get into.
We saw a few while we were there, and.. Meh. If you’ve seen one…..
Well. Don’t tell a lighthouse nut that.
They’ll scratch your eyes out, then pull out your spine with their teeth.
Pretty, though. I get it. (not in the obsessed kind of way, but i get it.)
I took one of those tiny planes.
Something I never would have done before..
My travel companion was a ball of nerves.
I wish I had been more scared. Isn’t that a weird thing to say?
I wish I could say that the tiny plane made me overcome some fear..
But I guess I had already overcome it. DAG!
I was excited, more than anything. And calm. Thoroughly confident in the pilot’s skills.
We spent a couple of days driving around Acadia National Park.
I got this shot during that drive.
I mean, like, what?
Here’s where the murder and intrigue comes in.
To take this photograph, I had to wrench the car over to the side of the road, hop out while speeding cars whizzed by, then scale down the side of a steep, and slippery hill.
The grass was lush, and rocky.. And there were burrowed holes all over.
I thought to myself… “There are animals living in here.”
Two seconds later, I stepped gingerly onto a fluffy section of it..
Something beneath the grass protested loudly.
Squeaking angrily at me for a couple of minutes.. I couldn’t see it.. But he was mad.
Geeeeesh.
I was reminded of the time in kindergarten when I talked my best friend, Timmy, into breaking into our classroom after hours to free the class gerbil.
We giggled triumphantly as he cruised around the carpeted floor..
I stood high on my tiptoes, watching him circle, then stepped back with a crunch.
We placed his broken body back in the cage, and when questioned about it the next day, refused to take responsibility.
Deny, deny, deny.
I felt a strange satisfaction with that untruth, if I recall correctly.
Obviously something I feel guilt over to this day.
Anyway..
I’m always murdering tiny furred creatures, is what I’m trying to tell you.
Maybe not murder.
Involuntary rodentslaughter?
Coastal Maine is the most quaint of all the places I’ve traveled.
I almost od’d on quaint.
It made me want to come back, and hit up the mean streets of Chicago, and sit under bridge surrounded by dirty condoms, and syringes. Just to even myself out.
We passed this little spot on our drive.
I got out to peruse the choices..
(there was a box with money in it, and directions to make your own change. god, i love that kind of honor system shit!)
It was misty, and muddy, and I was wearing those sock boots I got on the cheap.
Instant wet sock feet.
Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez! EVERYONE HATES THAT.
I got back in the car without getting anything.
The next morning, I woke up in the hotel room, and told my travel pal that we needed to find that place again.
It was a 35 minute drive, with only my camera’s clues to lead us.
We found it, and it had been taken down..
BUT BECAUSE OF THE PHONE NUMBER, I CALLED THE WOMAN, AND SHE BROUGHT ME ALL KINDS OF JAM.
(my camera’s a hero)
(and i’m a detective)
No pie for us, as we had to board a plane..
Like I said, the bakery pilgrimage was live in full effect the whole trip..
And to be honest, if I ever saw I pie/cake/streudel again, it would be too soon.
Here’s something Maine is famous for..
Whoopie Pies.
Cake halves filled with sugary frosting.
Not my fave, Maine. But maybe I had the wrong ones?
Also famous in Maine… The lobster roll.
Something I REALLY wanted to eat there.
So I had two of them.
(ON TWO SEPARATE OCCASIONS, JUDGE.)
I think I liked the second better..
And I’m pretty sure it was because of the lettuce, and parsley.
I can be so shallow.
We stopped at this adorable cafe for breakfast on Plum Island.
PLUM ISLAND.
I can’t, you guys.
Mad Martha’s had an awesome Portuguese thing happening.
I got this Crabby Patty sandwich on “Bolo Levedos”, this sort of fluffy, moist english muffin.
Absolutely delightful!
My friend got some pumpkin pancakes. BEST. EVER.
The ambiance in this little place was so flippin’ cute.
AND THERE WERE MINIATURES. IN THE PLANTS. GAHD.
Here’s a little insight into failure..
While I was in Boston.. On the Harvard campus, I bought this book of miniatures.
“Little People in the City” by Slinkachu.
It had plastic around it.
When I got home, I decided to give it to Brad..
I paged through it to make sure it was appropriate for a 7 year old.
I saw nothing that screamed, “DON’T DO IT.”
When I gave it to her, we looked at each and every page.
One, called “Indecent Exposure,” was a depiction of a man with his pants down, clearly propositioning a woman on the street.
Brad looked at me incredulously.
I said, “It’s not real.” As if that’s what you say.
All the while, “I’M SHOWING MY NIECE PORNOGRAPHY” railed through my brain.
The second part of that was, “Well, it’s art.”
I spent the next day thinking of ways to tell Juan.
Thinking of all the things to do now that Brad had stored the book on her shelf.
Do I cut out the offensive pages?
Do I leave them in the name of art?
Do I take the gift back, and have a talk with her about it?
MY BROTHER IS GOING TO KILL ME.
When I told him, his response was this..
“Oh, Cass. I feel like I fail as a parent every single day. Welcome.”
Surprising.
I’m still going to be that aunt that thought she was being cool, and artsy..
And instead showed a 7 year old some nudie pics.
Bygones.
I’ve done worse.
(GOOD LORD, NO I HAVEN’T.)
Update: The next morning, Brad had a friend over. She immediately wanted to show the friend her book.
My brother said, “Uhh. Vera. We need to talk about the book. Your aunt has taken it back.”
He said she looked a bit let down, the kind of got a twinkle in her eye and said, “Because it’s inappropriate?”
“Yep,” he said.
She nodded, and chose something else to show her friend.
And just to be clear, it wasn’t just tiny plastic penis that threw me, it was the content in which it was shown. So. I’M STILL ARTSY AND HIP, OKAY?
