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Hey There!
Kenny Rogers had it right. You can’t make new old friends.
My Connecticut trip was last weekend, and it was such a much-needed three days.
Because I’m a crazy person, I left around 6 p.m. Thursday and arrived at 1:00 a.m. Friday morning. The best thing about driving at night (as long as I have enough sleep) is there isn’t nearly as much traffic to deal with. After driving in CT, I learned what a blessing that truly was because I experienced some of the worst displays of driving I’ve ever seen!
My friend didn’t get off work until 8 a.m., but I wanted to be there when she got off, so I slept in the backseat of my car until she arrived. I figured I’d be more alert driving after work than trying to go home, take a “nap” at my normal bed time, and then start out on the trip at 1:00 or 2:00 mid sleep cycle.
Luckily, I’m pretty good at sleeping in my car, and it wasn’t too cold. I took a down comforter and thermal socks and slept pretty solidly. Actually, I was so exhausted I’m pretty sure I could’ve slept on the sidewalk and have been fine.
When I got there, my friend had researched all kind of ideas for how to fill our weekend. We could tour Katherine Hepburn’s house, drive out to the beach, go shopping, even drive into NYC. But honestly, it was cold and rainy and nothing sounded quite as good as curling up in her cozy apartment, drinking coffee, and watching British dramas and filmed on Broadway musicals, so that’s exactly what we did.
We went out for a late lunch/early dinner each day. We ate at Cheesecake Factory which was straight up sinful. I had cheesecake that was so rich it took me two days and multiple sittings to finish.
We also stopped at the most enchanting little 50s diner. It was restored to perfection, and I wish I had set my hair and worn my full out pin-up gear for a photoshoot!
It was just the balm my soul needed.
I thought you guys might appreciate my internal commentary over the trip/stay and as I tried to stay awake and avoid driving through NYC:
What is with the speed limit? Why is an interstate 55 mph . . . or 40 mph . . . oooh my . . . they have a minimum speed limit posted.
Whoa, I’m so far away from the South, I’m having problems finding a country station.
I’m going to go crazy driving this slow on an interstate . . . Oh, crap . . . I’m the speeding Virginia driver.
Why are there this many cops on the road?
These people can’t drive . . . that’s what’s up with the speed limit and the cops. If I survive this trip, it will be a miracle.
There are Grinder shoppes instead of sub shops.
I do not trust Gumbo or Jambalaya this far on the other side of the Mason Dixon Line.
There were apparently only three options for naming streets – something that sounds university-related (Yale, etc.), men’s names that end with two t’s like in Prescott and Talbott, or Native American names that are all o’s and .
If I wake up tomorrow and this place doesn’t at least look a little like Stars Hollow, I want a do-over.
Yesss. There’s a gazebo.
These people are serious about their Land Rover.
Apparently all roads lead to NYC.
I realllly don’t want to think about driving in NYC.
I’m NOT driving in NYC. I’ll bail out and U-turn if I have to.
Ahh, bypassing NYC. YES.
. Home.