2009-07-09

Ogunquit, Pt. One

I am pleased to report that our vacation -- the first one we have taken SANS family members in at least a couple of years -- was, for the most part, a success.

I say "for the most part" because we had us a setback...well, *I* had a setback, which I am now choosing to call a "learning experience." What did I learn, chickens? I learned that I am no longer 18 years old (as if the incipient drooping of my ass wasn't indication enough), and I therefore cannot eat the way I did when I was 18 years old. But we'll get to that later.

Sunday, July 5, 2009
We've packed, we've left instructions for the petsitter, we've mewed and cooed at Foot Foot, reassuring her that we weren't going to be gone long (this is probably more for MY benefit than hers) and now we're off. Our first stop is Kittery, Maine, and NOT to go to the outlets (Christ Jesus, I can't think of anything MORE unpleasant, except maybe a pap smear, or "leaf peeping"). No, this is for Mexican food. In Maine. Because there is NO decent Mexican food in Boston, and that is a FACT. I had read about this place in Kittery -- Loco Coco's -- where the food was about as authentic as you were going to get on this coast. And I had not had a fish taco since my last trip to Los Angeles.

Coco's did not disappoint.

(I have to say -- I have developed something of a "talent" for taking phewtews with my iPhone. Everything you're gonna see as I continue on this here travelogue was taken with said iPhone.)

We stuff ourselves silly, then decide to head straight on through Kittery to Ogunquit. Except that we are sidetracked. By Yummies.

I am willing to overlook their ugly website (and the nearly unforgivable use of Comic Sans), because Yummies itself is probably more beautiful than the Cistine Chapel, La Sagrada Familia and the Haunted Mansion COMBINED.

I stand, trembling, in pure naked awe at the magnificence of this place, and promptly buy a giant bag of Flying Saucers.

NOW we're ready to go find the motel, which -- after much research and discussion -- I made a reservation with a few weeks prior to our arrival. It's at this point that I start to panic. Because something ALWAYS goes wrong when I go somewhere. This is the indefatigable truth of the matter. (If you think I am perhaps waxing hyperbolic, I give you Los Angeles,Nashville and Portland.) I figure, though, that at least airplanes are not involved this time, so what's the worst that can happen?

To my surprise, there is no hangup at the front desk, they remember speaking to me, and they give us keys to our room. KEYS! Actual KEYS.

I am so charmed by this for some reason.

The room is....homey. Which is to say bedecked in typical motel furnishings: 80's-era bedspread, chunky rectangular furniture, baskets of fake flowers and the requisite "nautical"-themed framed watercolor above the bed. But it is also IMMACULATE. It's stupefyingly clean. And there's a nice pool.

The houseboy and I look at each other, and giggle. "We're on VACATION."

lisamcc at 4:00 p.m.

previous | next