I wouldn't say I HATE summer, exactly. But when the temperature rises above 90 and my ass begins to sweat, I become morose. And when that happens for longer than a week, I become a shut-in. It's been pretty bad this past week. So I offer a sincere apology to all of the friends I cancelled on over this past week. I've been bummy and sweaty. And sweaty bummy.
On day 3 of summer hibernation, I agreed, reluctantly, to go up to the mountains. I sarcastically noted that it was supposed to be precisely 4 degrees cooler up there. But in the end, I decided to join the living. And I'm very glad for it.
My friend Ryan and I drove up 93 and around Campton, NH.
What I always consider to be a good sign:
I asked if we could stop here to check out the bear. And then I felt obligated to check out the antique shop. Inside the very warm Chalet we were greeted by an English woman sitting behind the counter. She talked of having lived in Alaska and invited us to check out the Alaska museum upstairs. It was an intimate, caged affair with a real walrus head locked way...
|How does one pack a walrus head for cross-country transit anyway?|
I found some new art:
|"Phyllis, can you let your right cheek slide gently off the chair? |
Don't fall now. Remember, sexy!"
From there, we had lunch at The Stix. Both the waitstaff and the food were great--we both got The Green Mountain: turkey, honey cream cheese, and sliced apples on grilled honey wheat bread.
It is a good friend who will indulge me in my love of critters. Or a new friend who may not quite grasp what it means to accompany me in any outing involving critters. It's not for everyone. It's not for most people, frankly. And when we initially whizzed past the small, busy-looking Backwoods Farm, we both furrowed our brows and thought, "that wasn't it...was it?" A few miles later, we turned around and went back. I had a moment of secret happiness when Ryan pulled us into the parking area. I can picture other friends saying, "Um, no."
Backwoods Farm is 30+ acres and contains a mish-mash of highly social animals. They come right up to the fence to be pet and cooed at. And that's precisely what I did.
Moise, roll the tape...
|Help! I have brains all over my face, balls on my neck, and a beard coming out of my chest!|
|Oh look, what an adorable c---what the fuck...? Pan in, Moise!|
|Whoa. Look at the chompers on this one!|
|Yer goofy lookin'.|
|Okay, I'll stop making fun of you now. You're adorable.|
|And for anyone who really knows me, yes, there were sheep too. And a pig!|
I grew up on a small petting-zoo farm like this. I hated it as a teenager, but am forever grateful for it now. The owners of this farm are incredibly nice. They came over to talk to us for a while, told us about how they made the move from RI and created this farm. They talked about how they've taken in animals from not-so-great farms and bottle-fed the babies. I was touched by the passion they have for what they do. And they were tickled that the ad finally made it onto the place mat at The Stix! Win win.
|Scotch, a lovely lady with black stockings|
|Llamas...alpacas...I don't care. They're fugly.|
|Is this the definition of "irony"?|
|I was told 14 times what this is, but I can't remember. A something-poo.|
|Aaand then we hit the gift shop. Ryan made a stellar purchase.|
|I really shouldn't get "fancy" with the camera. It just doesn't work like I want it to.|
We talked about coming back soon and trying to capture the sunset and a few stars. That sounds great in the daylight. I have a feeling I'd piss myself if I were alone there at night. Camping in a campground is one thing. Open mountain top vulnerability is a different story. We'll see. For now, I am kickin' it back in the AC until about October.