Maine

The plan was for my family to finally visit New England, a long overdue pilgrim's journey to the land of Plymouth Rock, pulled taffy, and Stephen King. We picked a house off Craig's List, packed our bags and toddlers, and hopped on a plane to Maine. (Kid friendly movies downloaded beforehand on the Ipod make for great distractions. Even better, travel with grandparents who VOLUNTEER to ride with the kids in first class. You've never seen a happier coach.)

We stayed in York Beach, the kind of town for which the word "quaint" was invented but still couldn't quite capture the utter aww-ness. Unfortunately I also managed to pack the nasty-ass cold virus my doctor swore was a sinus infection. 75% of our group was struck down over the course of the week, and the mounting piles of snotty tissue, barking coughs, swollen red eyes and general malaise gave us our own Stephen King-worthy plague to contend with. But we all soldiered on, taking long walks to Brown's ice cream when the weather permitted, or wearing sweaters, spying on the lobster fisherman with our binoculars outside our window and granting each other no mercy at Scrabble. And generally consuming about 3,000 calories a day. I am still trying to fit into my shorts, and I feel like Sookie Stackhouse prancing around in hotpants, except with much more jiggly.

Caleb managed to surf at Long Sands Beach, and while Lindsey and I made the fatal mistake of bringing toddlers to the beach honestly thinking we'd keep them out of the 50 degree water, the ensuing mess was worth watching my sexy, wetsuited man drop into the waves. We made sidetrips to Boston, Portsmouth and Salem, tried to out-annoy each other with our worst Yankee accents. Shopping at the gap outlet was made even more pleasurable by my cashier's greeting : To staht, would you like to open a Gap cahd and save fideen puhcent? I know we talk funny. They talk funniest.

This was the house across the street from us, taken with my phone. This was not photoshopped. It looked even creepier in person. It we all hadn't felt so sick, I'm sure we would have responded to all the moaning and ghostly screams that wafted down to us from the top floor each night.



This is the least claustrophobic bookseller in the world.



And this is what I did on my summer vacation. Enjoy!


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