tedwords

The paintings were by an artist named David Lucian who had passed in 2025. His family have been looking to sell his remaining artwork. The subject of the artwork is admittedly a bit edgy, although Corb and I immediately recognized a kindred spirit. 

One of the paintings we picked up was huge, and we debated for quite some time whether to get it, since in its condition it would not fit in our car. We even drove back after leaving the barn after much debate so Corb could measure it, and finally decided to make the purchase. We were able to get it home by removing the painting from its frame to roll up and stretch back out when we get home, for mounting.

The mounting on our den turned out to be a bit more challenging than we initially thought, since it of course involved purchasing a frame the same size as the painting. This was a costly proposition. Also, not just any frame would do. Our first go at it turned out to be a mistake in terms of measurement, and now we have an extra frame that needs to be filled with artwork...

Never worry: Corb already has a solution in mind for that one. 

Finally, after about three months, we have selected the best frame for our needs and Corb was able to put the painting in. Then, there was the task of moving it into our den, which is a relatively small room. Corb actually did the moving and himself, which I found a bit annoying...although I helped with the mounting. In any event, the painting now is hung in in our den, which we are planning to repaint before Thanksgiving.


 

For those wondering, the painting is based on The Temptation of Saint Anthony: a classic artistic and literary theme about Saint Anthony the Great (c. 251–356 AD), an Egyptian hermit who resisted demonic attacks and visions during his prayer and fasting in the desert. The theme has been the subject of many famous literary works through the years. 

I will say, it certainly does catch the eye when you walk in the room. Theo came over for dinner the other night, and it was of course the first thing he noticed. 

He took a photo of it that night and shared it with several folks at the school he is interning at for his masters. He wrote the next day to say that "there are a lot of wondering fans of our artwork" who wanted to know the story, which of course we provided him with.

In other news, Corb's mom has been having a rough few days, as she had to put her cat Suke to sleep, during to respiratory issues. She has been very weepy as a result, and understandably so. 

It did motivate us to try and see if there was any way we could try and resolve the issue with getting her share of Jim's inheritance, which will be going on four years in about a month. To try and help resolve the situation, Corb and I have been diplomatically reaching out to certain family members who might be able to motivate the executor to resolve this. The dollar amount for distribution was agreed on six months ago, and it seems silly to move forward with a lawsuit at this point. Especially when the only thing we are waiting for is a word file of a pdf so the dollar amount can be changed. Heck, if I had the pdf, I could do it myself. 

A few weeks ago, I tried a member of Jim's family I know through Facebook. He was going through his own stuff and was less than helpful. He even tried to insinuate we should just let it go. This time, Corb tried Jim's sister-in-law. She was very nice and did reach out to the sister of the executor on our behalf, but that person's attitude was basically, I received my share two years ago, why should I care? 

Which is a shame. Corb thanked her for trying. Our hope is it may motivate the sister to at least ask what's going on. 

Finally, I've done some good writing work this week. Finished a hand-written draft of the short story Pandora's Box this morning, which is really the last major story I need to write. After I type it up, I will need to edit all the stories I have pulled together to secure a semi-consistent look and flow. That's tough to do that when you are dealing with stories that stretch back decades! 

But it's been a good experience. Last night, Ashes was talking about her use of art therapy with her students and it immediately reminded me of a story I wrote about her when she was four, involving art therapy. It's nice to be able to connect the dots. 

Even if the book doesn't go anywhere, it will serve as something I have to tell the story of my life as a queer bird. And I like that feeling. 

This was a big writing day for me. I finished typing up a story called Burning Embers, which is one I found in my files that I wrote back in 2003. It takes place during the final months of living at the Homestead with Josie, before I moved out on my own, and tells the story of a party we went to when we were starting to seek out other people, and I was just starting to view myself as a gay man. I always liked the first line of the story: "We are driving down Interstate 95 in a borrowed convertible and a lease on love that had long since expired."

At the time I thought it was too honest and might hurt Josie's feelings, so I hid it away and hadn't read it in quite some time. In re-reading it I think it captured perfectly how sad I felt at the time. Definitely worth adding to the collection.

Wednesday 

We spent most of the day at Shiplap, working on the Christmas arch. The Christmas rush is already here, which I think is ridiculous...let's enjoy Halloween for a while! But Brit has a holiday event next week, so... arch it we must. 

To get there, we first had to remove all the foliage from the spring, which took a few hours to do. 

I always enjoy our days spent working in the store. Corb is very particular about how things are arranged, as he should be as the designer, so I tend to be grunt work and idea support, but I don't mind that one bit. One of the things I did forget to do was to bring my laptop so if I have down time I can write, and I did start getting a bit grouchy around three, but he put me to work hanging ornaments and that helped him and helped me feel productive. After we were done we grabbed a quick bite of lunch (the late time may have also contributed to my grouchiness).

Thursday

Our weeks tend to form a pattern these days, and it is one that makes me happy. It's so much more fulfilling than the day-to-day Public Relations crises that used to fill my days just six months ago. 

Monday and Wednesday are typically workdays for the business, while Thursdays are more focused on the house or driving out to buy merchandise for the stores. Today was definitely focused on the outside of the house, as we finally were able to finish up closing the pool for the winter (well, most of it). The big thing was to put the tarp over the pool, which was a major undertaking.

And after that, I finished pulling together five local grant applications for the Eldredge Players, as the deadline for submission was today. Much of the work I had completed the day before, after getting home from Shiplap.

Ashes also informed us that she has secured her licensed mental health counselor license. That is awesome news and such hard work! After all we went through for so long, it is so nice to see her thriving and doing good in this world. I am very, very proud of what she has achieved.

Friday 

Corb works at Shiplap on Fridays, so I had much of the day to myself, and much of the time was spent typing up another story for Queer Birds that I had been handwriting all week. This one is called "Losin' It," and I use the trope of the eighties teen sex comedy to tell the story of how I lost my virginity and also as a result severed an important friendship for nearly three decades. I am feeling very good about how I've laid it out. 

With that story, I only have one more short story to pull together, called "Pandora's Box," which I am giving a lot of thought to. It takes place when Josie and I were first dating and details her locating my journal and reading it for the first time...and learning some things she probably wish she hadn't. It's a key story, but I want to be really careful with how I construct it and am debating how much I really want to say. That will be a challenge for next week. 

I will post last night's martini post separately, but when Corb went home from work, we went out to dinner and then went to see Sense and Sensibility. Steven was an extra in the movie and said we might see him in the outdoor scenes, but we tried and really couldn't really see him anywhere. The movie is lit in quite a moody fashion, to approximate the look of an oil painting, I think. Good movie though, and I did enjoy searching for him as we watched it. It's kind of like a game of Where's Waldo. 

Saturday

Finished up all of the outdoor work to winterize the home, which puts us ahead of schedule. Then I organized two weeks of comic books and sat down to type up this entry. Hello to my new LJ friends, if you are reading this! Tomorrow, we head out to more antique stores with Corb's mother. 

Another Friday, and the first post-Elton, so I’m just getting over the rush of rehearsals and the absence of not seeing every day 70 folks who now feel like family to me. To help kill the pain, I spent two days with Corb putting down flooring at Shiplap and then picked up with my work on Queer Birds. I have more than 220 pages already compiled.

That said, I feel so grateful and full of pride for this now-past passion project, which never would have happened at a different stage in my life. It felt so fulfilling to write, direct, co-host and see these songs and stories come to life. And even get to sing a few of them myself. And to do it all with my wonderful music director was amazing and a life saver. And, ukeleles.

There was a personal message behind it, since that’s what passion projects are meant to do. One of the goals in this phase of my life is to showcase stories of queer voices, and the story of Elton felt like the perfect way to start, since he has meant so much throughout my life. Through narrative, I told the story of his rise to fame, his enduring creative partnership with Bernie, as well as his struggle to conform to societal expectations and battle with addiction.

The struggle to conform to societal expectations I could well relate to, and I was able to interject a personal level to the story, along with my co-host Caryn. Elton's music has often been a salvation for me, particularly the music from Captain Fantastic as a queer teenager living through the repressive 80s. And, coming to terms with my own life's meaning.

However, as Emily Post once said, if you want to say something, say it slant. While the message was important and of course reflected in the song choices, including an incredibly passionate rendition of The Last Song sung by one of my favorite performers, queer portraits were also offered in subtle ways.

For example, for a song called The Greatest Discovery, which is about a young boy discovering he has a younger brother, I asked my co-host if she would feel comfortable having her adorable daughter Rosie act out what she was singing. And I also asked Zack to have one of his sons involved. That way from an appearance perspective it looked like I had a lovely heterosexual couple singing with their two kids. In reality I was being far more subversive than that.

Or, for Blessed, which is the story of longing for a child when you have dedicated your life to your career, we staged it as a duet between two fantastic female belters. It became a bit of a song about two women wishing the best for their future child. And so beautifully sung.

Anyway, my goal was not to hit people over the head with the message but instead make the mood more celebratory. And celebrate we did. I have rarely felt such a feeling of unity and love as I did throughout this show. The last performance felt like one big hug. In fact, I never left the stage after the curtain call because I was too busy hugging people! One week later, I continue to get emails from folks telling me how much they enjoyed being a part of it or how much they wished they had been a part of it. It’s a nice feeling. These folks are phenomenal, each and every one.

Which goes to show: be your genuine self, tell the stories you wish to tell, be brave, be kind, be strong and you will surely achieve your ambitions. This journey has been one I will never forget, and I am so grateful for it—and looking forward to the next adventure in sight.

The Rest of the Story

This past week just flew by, and the first two days, when we put the flooring down, really was time consuming and exhausting. 

I would go with Corb to the store to help him move the heavy furniture and items, but really, he had a vision for the flooring and wouldn't appreciate my help, so I brought my laptop with me and would work away until he needed me again. On the second day, I was working on bills as well as some work for the Eldredge Players, which led me to a bit of a quandary.

We are in the process of selecting our season for the year and settled on doing Hello Dolly for the June show, with one problem: the royalties are insane! Seriously, they are $8,000, which are substantially higher than any of our previous shows. So one of my goals was to call Concord Theatrical to get a sense as to why they would so high. 

When I spoke to the very pleasant gent on the other end of the line, he admitted the price tag was a bit high but given how much we were charging for tickets and our seating capacity, it didn't seem out of line. I thanked for that information, but mentioned that I knew that a local cabaret was doing the show in about two weeks and also charging a similar ticket price (plus $10 for dinner), and was a bit surprised they could pay that amount, too.

The rep paused for a moment and then said, "What group?" And when I told him the name again he said, "I don't have any record of them securing rights for that show."

Interesting. So, they are doing the show without having permission, and we get charged $8000 for playing by the rules? That hardly seems fair, in my opinion. But do I make a big stink about it? 

I did share with him the marketing material I had seen, which he said he was passing on to their Compliance folks. I think it's only fair. 

The rest of the week was all about recovery. And on Saturday, Corb and I worked on starting the process of shutting down the pool. It was an all-day effort, which included a huge firepit burning that we had put off since March. The pool is still not complete as I type this on a Monday, but we are getting close. 


 Sunday was spent with Corb's mom, of course. I also spent some time this week checking in on the status of her inheritance from her partner Jim. Another ethical dilemma here...

It will be four years since Jim died in December and his daughter Laura, who dislikes Corb's mom, has yet to give her what she is owed, even though she distributed the other amounts to Laura's brother and sisters two years ago. 

It's a complicated, petty situation, but Laura had deducted ridiculous items from Corb's mom's share totaling about $7,000, listing such things as trash baskets and cooking pans, claiming that they were Jim's property, when in fact, most were item's Corb's mom had actually purchased. Corb's mom retained an attorney, as did Laura, and about six months ago, the two parties had settled on a compromise figure, basically splitting the difference. Six months later, that amount still has not been paid. Laura's attorney claims that Laura needs to share with them a word document so they can revise the distribution figures, because they only have a pdf of the file. Which is kind of silly: it is relatively easy to transfer text on a pdf to Word, so I am not sure why this is such a huge hold up.

My feeling has been that given the dollar discrepancy, filing suit would be a silly waste of time, but now that we are approaching the four-year mark, I am wondering what can be done to motivate resolution. I have been staying in touch with the attorney for Corb's mom and did suggest that maybe we could reach out to members of Jim's family to inspire Laura to take action. His advice was: yes, because this is ridiculous at this point.

So on Friday, I did, but the person I spoke to was dealing with some health issues and basically said that his hunch is Laura has "cocooned herself. We don't talk about it, no control of it. I had a very bad fallout with my siblings when my Mom passed so I don't go near this stuff. Family stuff is the worst, and often silly. From a completely unbiased objective perspective, I'd write it off if it's essentially a legal matter." 

I get it, but for an 80-year-old lady with limited means, it's tough to simply write the matter off. But what else can be done? I have considered going social, but do not wanted to be accused of libel or slander. 

Two other options I am considering: maybe this is something that would be of interest to local media outlets such as WBZ, WCVB, etc.? It might be interesting to tell the story of an executor of an estate denying distribution for four years to an 80-year-old widow because the widower didn't turn over waste baskets and other small items she actually purchased herself.

Or could it be an attorney general sort of complaint? I know that the Massachusetts Attorney General's Office (AGO) generally does not intervene in private estate disputes or represent individuals in cases of executor misconduct. However, if the executor's wrongdoing involves elder financial exploitation, consumer fraud, or the theft of public or charitable funds, you can file a complaint with the Massachusetts Attorney General's Office. 

Thinking that might be something to consider here. I am writing to the attorney to get his opinion. 

First thing in the morning, after thinking about it all night, I shot off a note to the entire cast:

First off, I have made an important decision involving a slight change to the curtain call. I have been thinking about it all night long and spoke to our friend Cindy about it this morning. I know how hard everyone has been working on this show and want to make sure that everyone in our cast is showcased during the encore number. So, rather than having the Strummers integrate with the entire cast as we walked through last night, Cindy will have the Strummers move behind our Group C, so that all three of our rows are displayed front and center, singing our hearts out.

We can work through it tonight, but please know how much Lisa and I appreciate all you have done to make the show what it is. Every one of you has contributed in so many ways to this show's success. The music is beautiful, the talent is insane, the sales are brisk...this show is operating on all cylinders, and that isn't possible without the focus and passion you all have brought to this project.

Another issue that arose was a friend who felt that I had been rather dismissive of her during one group number. I was able to resolve that through a nice discussion with her, as she had done so much work on costumes for me that I really wanted her to feel appreciated. But as Lisa (my music director) pointed out, I really hadn't been that bad at all...what I had done is to point out that the line in question were not posing in a similar fashion and it looked sloppy. And then, corrected it. Had this been operating at a different level, such a sentiment of "feelings hurt" would have been regarded as absolutely silly. You just suck it up and move on.

Tonight's added challenge was that the band was there for the first time, to work through all 33 songs. I was interested to see how things went with that.

I am pleased to report that they went marvelously. The band added the needed juice to bring the show to yet another level. Everyone could feel it. 

Since I was co-host, I started focusing on that, with Melissa continuing to take notes. It gave me an up-close view of the singers and it became quite an emotional experience. I found myself in tears on so many occasions.

Part of my goal with this production was to tell a story about the struggles of a queer performer, and someone who had such a profound influence on me. As I sat there watching these folks sing, this feeling of pride and joy came over me in waves. This show was going to be okay. Better than okay: really. I had written the script, directed the show with 70 performers, and was co-hosting and singing four songs. My crazy vision was actually being realized. 

I did get a bit sneaky in the messaging. For example, for a song called The Greatest Discovery, which is about a young boy discovering he has a younger brother, I asked my co-host, Caryn, who is a lesbian, if she would feel comfortable having her daughter Rosie act out what she was singing. And I also asked Zack, who is married to a man and has two young boys, to have one of his sons also involved. That way from an appearance perspective it looked like I had a heterosexual couple with their two kids, when in reality I was being far more subversive than that.

Or, for Blessed, which talks about a person who has dedicated their life to their career longing for a child, I made it a duet between two fantastic female belters, so it became more of a song about two women hoping for the best for their future child. 

And then there is the story of Elton, who struggled through addictions and a traditional marriage, in an attempt to conform to societal expectations. Given my life story, as well as Caryn's, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to say that we could totally relate, when we got to that part of the narrative.

I think everyone left the theater feeling pumped and excited for opening night. I felt on top of the world.

It went really well. One thing I was smart about was recognizing that since I was serving as co-host and singing four songs, I could not pay attention to everything, so I asked my creative best buds Melissa and Tony to come to the rehearsal and provide another set of eyes and feedback.

Tony was of minimal value, but at the very least he provided me with a hat to wear for the Elton show. It provided me with a good luck charm and also, I used it along with some fancy glasses to chart the progression from a young performer to a star with some serious addiction problems--and then to finding who he was and what he wanted his life to be about. I started the show without both, added the glasses around Madman Across the Water and the hat around Don't Go Breaking My Heart. Then I took off the hat around the time of The One and the glasses around The Bridge. It was a nice linear progression.

Melissa was far more valuable and helpful, as always. She came to all three rehearsals this week and also went to see the show on Friday. She took careful notes each night and shared them in an Excel spreadsheet, which she would share so I could pass them on to the cast, along with my own notes. It was invaluable. 

One thing I had to do this night was make a last-minute casting change. Monday night one of the actors, Patrick, who had been a bit of hit and miss about attendance, told me he could only attend one of the rehearsals this week due to a conflict with another show. In my opinion, this was unfair to the other performers he was working with, so I tested another performers, Wayne, in the number, and it worked well, so I was free to let Patrick know his services would not be needed.

I also had some concerns with another performer, Greg, who has some personal issues at home. However, Greg has a marvelous voice and his rendition of The Final Song is absolutely astounding. I knew that I wanted him to be involved no matter what and would absolutely work around any challenge we encountered. As it was, starting on Tuesday, he was there for every rehearsal.

It's all about prioritization. You need to know what's worth going the extra mile for.

One of the things that's been interesting as I've been directing my Elton show is the changing of the guard I am observing. 

I have been working with the Eldredge Players for more than twenty years now, so I've seen my share of changing faces, particularly during the lean pandemic years. In the past few years, however, I have particularly seen some of the stalwarts move into their seventies and start to have age-related issues.

I am far from that age, but a few years ago, I made the decision that we really needed a younger bench of directors, and decided that rather than stubbornly hang on to power, I would turn over the directing duties for our big yearly show to other folks (ironically enough, the person we have used the past two out of three years is actually a few years older than I am, but go figure). Part of it was work related, too. 

I actually haven't missed the stress one bit, but Tony, my long-time music director has missed it, I think (he should. He had a sweet deal and was really pampered.) 

It's worked out well. This past year we won a ton of awards for our work on the big show and I was able to travel to Paris during hell week. This upcoming year I have even more travel planned. 

The only reason I agreed to do this current show is that it's a musical revue. That will be easy and fun, I thought. Then I went about and cast seventy people in the show, made myself co-host and am singing four songs. Because, I guess, I don't like easy.

Anyway, it's not always easy for some to "cross that bridge," and in particular, those who are getting even older than 70. We have one lady who tried out for the Elton show, Ellie, who is in her nineties and has been with the group since the seventies. That's a long time, but she has been growing strong and even had a solo in last year's show!

But this year, life has been harder. At 93, she can't do everything anymore. Her doctor actually reported her to the Registry and both her and her husband lost driving privileges, making it harder for her to get to rehearsal. We've had folks in the cast who have been driving her home at night, which is super nice. 

This past week, though, right before a choreography rehearsal, Ellie came to over to me as I was preparing for the night. "How's it going, Elle?" I asked, absently shuffling through a few papers. 

"Oh, not great," she said. "I had some heart-related surgery this past weekend."

"You did?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and stopping everything. "Are you okay?" 

"Oh, I'm fine," she replied, looking down. "Just not feeling like the old Ellie anymore. Hoping that comes back."

Now mind you, this was right before we were doing two dance numbers that could be considered low impact aerobics. 

And as I watched her attempt the numbers with her cane, I started getting concerned. Later that night, at three in the morning, I woke up in a cold sweat, thinking more fully about the situation. What if Ellie fell during a performance at the theater? 

Fortunately, we had contact information for her granddaughter that my SM had wisely secured, so next morning right away I contacted her, expressing my concern about her involvement in that from a health perspective. I told her I didn't want anything to happen to someone I have known for so long and love and asked for more information about the surgery. I said I know she wants to be involved, and we of course want her to as well, but not if it could be harmful. 

Sure enough, my instincts were correct. We hadn't been getting the whole story. 

Her granddaughter contacted me right away, to tell me that their family was under the impression that the show was singing only and there was no choreographed dancing or movement involved. She said they are doing all that they can for Ellie to continue to do what she loves and to stay engaged, but she is not always the best judge of what her limitations are. And not only that, but she is considered a fall risk and actually had a fall on Saturday before the surgery. 

Ouch. I had no choice. Ellie should not be a part of the show. Her granddaughter said she would talk to her and explain this and I said I would follow up with Ellie in the morning, which I did. 

She was quite gracious about the whole thing. Ellie wrote back to thank me for my love and concern for her well-being and apologized for putting me in this position. She had hoped she could finish the show and announce it as her swan song; however, it is not to be. She said her sense of humor likens it to the athlete who does not know when it is time to hang up the cleats, and that it is so difficult trying to "re-invent Ellie." 

It really is. I have such sympathy for folks like Ellie who want to keep going, as long as they can. These fragile bodies we possess are so much weaker than the vibrant souls inside us.

At least for some things. I know that writing grows stronger with age, and I do hope that is the case. I think unlike taking the car keys away or even hanging up your dancing cleats, taking away the quill pen may take a bit longer. I am hoping to hold on to that one until my dying breath. 

Yesterday we woke up at six thirty to get ready for the final Brimfield outing of the year. 

For those who don't live in New England, the Brimfield Antique Flea Market is the largest outdoor antique show in the United States, held along a mile-long stretch of Route 20 in Brimfield, Mass. It takes place three times a year, Tuesday through Sunday and is a huge event, with 20 separately owned show fields housing thousands of dealers. Vendors sell everything from high-end vintage furniture and fine art to quirky collectibles and rustic Americana.

It's fun. Had you asked me five years ago, I wouldn't really have had any idea what the Brimfield Fair was. Nowadays, I have the dates written down on my calendar, because I know we are going to be headed there at some point in the week. 

Not that Corb really picks up too much in the way of lighting supplies. Truth is, you aren't going to find too many steals in the way of merch: most of the vendors there price the way Corb prices, even if what they are offering involves lighting fixtures that need rewiring and cleaning. So he's better off finding his merch elsewhere, and we tend to go just for ourselves. Oh, and the 20,000 steps of walking we will invariably do, offset only by the food we will surely eat. 

I did find some good deals, myself. There is a vendor there that specializes in rare antiques and has always had at least three shelves of Oz books. This time around, we engaged in a nice long conversation with him, and I ended up spending quite a bit at his booth, including the purchase of The Book Collectors Guide to L Frank Baum and Oz, which is a beautifully laid out book that is rather rare and valuable, and he was kind enough to give me a nice discount on. Of course, I did purchase four other books from him. 

The day was absolutely lovely. It was a perfect fall New England day with the sun shining and enough clouds overhead so it wasn't too hot out. Unlike today, which is completely rainy--several of the vendors were already packing up to leave at the end of the day yesterday, to avoid the Brimfield mudfields, which are a big, sloppy mess. I can't say I blame them. 

Our traveling companions were Corb's mom, who we haven't seen since our week-long cross-country trip, and our friend Beata, who is a lovely European lady who does quite a bit of traveling throughout the year and loves antiquing. Beata and Corb's mom get along quite well, and it is nice to have someone she can walk with, as she is not a good browser and tends to look at every single item, which can be deadly at a place like Brimfield. As a result, while we walked 20,000 steps, they only did 7,000, an indication of the greater distance Corb and I were able to cover.

"Next time we should come the day before and just not tell them," said Corb as we were off adventuring the afternoon. He is completely right. We would be so much more efficient that way. 

That night, we ate at our favorite restaurant in the area, the Publick House, a historic inn built in 1791 that is nestled on acres of beautiful countryside. The place is beautifully maintained and the food is always quite good. I had a lobster pie.

And today? Just staying indoors and keeping dry. I have a rehearsal tonight so I have spent some time working on blocking and preparing. Was supposed to see my parents this afternoon but they cancelled due to the weather. 

I did have a good conversation with Pauline for a while, in between blocking. She is thinking about moving to Florida...I guess this seems to be the period in our life where these things happen, since my brother is down there too. I wouldn't want to live in Florida...my feeling is Corb and I will someday live overseas or in another country, and it's kind of nice to start dreaming those dreams. 

The rest of the trip wasn't quite as fraught with fragility as the first half. Perhaps it the fact we were in Amish country and all that romance in the air. 

Our location really was beautiful, and I think that contributed. The stay came with a very filling breakfast each morning in the dining room, and the waitress was extremely friendly. While we waited for our breakfast, we were given a whole ton of extras, including homemade muffins, pastries, fruit, and granola, and orange juice and lots of coffee. The first day I had the poached eggs on home-fried potatoes topped with peppers and onions and a local cheddar cheese, which was great, but I moved to scrambled eggs for the two days after that. 

There was also a really serene back yard that we took advantage of in the mornings. 

The first day in Intercourse, Corb's mother was clearly annoyed with us due to our conversation and spent a bit of time sulking. She had also, as Corb predicted, told several folks in the family that we had been mean to her, as he received several texts from his brothers asking how things were going, something he never receives. He deliberately kept the responses nonchalant. 

No worries, as we had a lot to keep us busy. We toured the center of Intercourse for much of the morning, as well as Emma's Gourmet popcorn, which was one of the reasons Corb wished to come here. We had tried out some of their salt and vinegar popcorn in Rhode Island, and Corb was excited to learn they had hundreds of other flavors to try at the main store in Intercourse. 

Frankly, the store wasn't as big as I was expecting, but we did pick up several different varieties. I would say that the area itself felt somewhat manufactured--save for the Amish and their horses and farms, the buildings all felt like they had been designed by a Disney imagineer team. We did like it, but it had a bit of a touristy feel and we grew anxious to see something different. 

So our next goal was to check out Adamstown, which is located about 20 miles north and is widely known as "Antiques Capital U.S.A.," with thousands of dealers and massive flea markets. Frankly, this really hit the spot, and the stores we visited that first day had some truly interesting finds at low prices. The first floor of one of them looked as if it had stepped out of the 1940s. I was able to pick up some really cool books, including a very early Nancy Drew, so I was content. 

We ended the night somewhat early, around seven, with a bit of ice cream from a local place called Boehringer's. Corb's mom insisted on paying, and there was a nice brook in the back where kids were having a blast. We arrived back at the Inn around eight and said goodnight early to retire to our respective rooms. It was probably for the best after all our long rides together. 

The next day we woke up early for breakfast and then off to a local flea market, to check that out. The one we went to, The Grove, was somewhat reminiscent of the Brimfield fair, and in fact, there were several vendors there that traveled up to Sturbridge to attend it. The one I liked the most had an enormous collection of 1950 through 1970 comic books, as well as an assortment of other really cool magazines. I did spend quite a bit and would do it again, although Corb was a bit salty because the vendor we spoke with lowered the total price by $20 and then sneakily neglected to pay Corb five dollars of that reduction, which he complained bitterly about for an hour later. 

Aside from the magazine vendor, there were some great booths and some not-so-great, which we tend to find with flea markets. It's really kind of hit or miss. Corb and his mom engaged in a tremendously boring conversation with the lady who sold buttons. I am sure it was intensely interesting for people who like buttons. Corb and his mom were among those who do like that stuff, and they made a great connection with a genuine button expert. 

But you have to be careful. The button lady was great, but right next to her was a rock lady, and she was somewhat suspect. When the rock lady saw we were looking at her rocks, she looked at the one Corb picked up and said "This is from my great grandfather's, from Mexico in the 1700s," which made no sense whatsoever and was clearly incorrect. Corb asked why she didn't have any tags on anything, and she said that she didn't price things due to the fact that she went to shows all the time. 

"I won't buy from people like that," Corb explained. "They just move the price around depending on who they are talking to. If they think you have money, they move the price up." 




The rest of the day we spent checking out other locations and had quite a haul by the end of it. At around eight, we headed back to the Inn and had dinner at Miller’s Smorgasbord in Ronks. The place started as a gas station in the twenties and is known for its "seven sweets and seven sours.” We didn't have any of that, but I did have some shoofly pie, and it was quite good. 


 

The next day, it was time to return home, and by this point, everyone had calmed down enough so that it was quite an enjoyable ride home. During the last breakfast, Corb's mom made friends with a very nice lady from New Jersey, who was staying there with our husband and goes once a year. It was actually quite amusing to me to hear them talking, and I found myself writing down some of the things that Corb's mom said, because while utterly charming, they were a bit exaggerated. I especially liked it when she described her three sons as all "very tall and very thin" (Corb was standing right there, and as he pointed out later, isn't exactly proof of the "very thin" part of the sentence. 

She also talked about her sister and started it by saying "I dont know if you've been to New Hampshire or have heard of it..." 

Corb and I exchanged a look. Pretty sure the lady from New Jersey has heard of the state of New Hampshire before.  

It was just charming and silly, however. She had a great time talking with the lady and was clearly proud of all that Corb has done with his life, and I loved that. I made it a point to mention that Corb was my husband, and despite the fact that we were in the "Bible belt," the New Jersey woman didn't seem to give two shits. Imagine that. 

On the five-hour ride home, Corb's mom was downright jolly. Maybe it was the thought of returning home and being reunited with her Sukee. I think it also had something to do with the thought of returning safely to a place she knew and trusted, which brought her anxiety level down. In any event, it was nice to end the trip on a high note. 

After we had dropped her off, Corb turned onto the highway. "That was fun," he said. "I think we should do it again."

I nodded. "Agreed. I think we could maybe bypass Ohio and just go from our place to New York, and then head to Intercourse. That would make it two days of three hour travel, which wouldn't be bad. Plus, the antique stores seem a bit lower, price point wise, than Ohio. Which makes it worth going back." 

"Okay, that's settled," he said, then smiled. "Only next time, let's do it all over again...just by ourselves."

Indeed.

One thing I have learned from this week-long road trip: as with young children, if you want some stress relief from an older parent, try wearing them out during the day. They'll want to go to bed earlier if you are successful. 

Today we went to the Heart of Ohio, which is a sprawling antique superstore that Martha Stewart has called "One of America’s best resources for antiques." The huge location has more than 800 Vendors, 1,425 Booths and showcases spread out over 122,000 square feet, all under one roof and comfortably climate controlled. This is our third visit here, although the first time doesn't really count because Corb had kidney stones and wanted to rush through it. 

This mega location certainly did the trick today. We arrived at around one and stayed until 5:30, with lunch at their delicious cafeteria. By the time we were ready to leave, much poorer for the experience, Corb's mom looked ready to take a nap, and actually did when we arrived at the hotel for the night. Don't worry, we woke her up before she could actually sleep, to get her fed before bedtime.

It hasn't been a terrible trip, but as Corb remarked yesterday, the two of us are really good traveling companions, and this has thrown that off slightly. Last time we drove to Ohio back in April we had such a great time. We couldn't wait to get back. But with his mom accompanying us, it's a different vibe. A tenser vibe. We are still enjoying ourselves and what we are doing, but she puts us on edge. Aside from the tiff we the first day of the trip, we had another shorter one two days later, as we were headed to the Cleveland Botanical Garden, across from the Glidden House.

"She is just so much to deal with," said Corb, as we were talking it over. "It's just hard."

I mentioned the other day how she tends to parrot everything Corb says, which makes discussions really difficult. But that's only one of the many things she does that make life so enjoyable. Let me get my list out. 

--She refuses to enter anything first. Doors, elevators, you name it. If we try to open the door and ask her to enter, she will stop, steadfastly refuse to do so, and stand in place until we both enter first. She says it's how she was brought up. 

--However, at all of the places we have stayed, she will literally push you out of the way to make sure she is taken care of first. When we checked into the Glidden House, even though I had booked everything, she could not wait for me to finish checking in before making sure they had her room and that it was placed under her credit card. She did the same thing tonight, as we checked into our hotel in Columbus. And that also extends to things she wants. This morning, Corb wanted to buy a magnet of the Glidden House, and she shoved him out of the ways so she could buy hers first. 

--She also has a deathly fear of every location we stay at. She is convinced, I swear, that some nefarious someone is looking to do her in at every location, just lurking in the shadows. As a result, she insists that we make sure that we have booked the room next door to her. Which is part of the reason she pushes me out of the way when we check in--to make sure this is the case. Tonight, for example, we ended up being assigned rooms about ten doors away from each other and she wore a scared frown on her face all the way up the elevator. This hotel is really nice, too, by the way.

--But that doesn't matter, because every night of this trip, she has slept with her bag of jewelry and pocketbook tucked next to her, because she doesn't feel safe. Even at the Glidden House, which may be the safest location you can be in short of the Gates of Heaven. She said she didn't feel safe even though the place was lovely and in a college campus because the neighbors in the room next to her were loud. Which of course means evil. 

 --Oh! In addition to a room next to her, she also requires us to park our car in a location where she can look out from her window and see it. I wish I was making that up. Tonight she made Corb circle the hotel twice so she could ensure it was in a parking lot she could see. "Otherwise you'd just have to take your chances," she explained. 

--Safety issues aside, she is terribly passive aggressive. Even though she makes me pick every hotel and restaurant, every step of the trip, saying "Oh, you just make the decision. I'll just LOVE whatever you pick!" she doesn't mean a word of it for a moment. I get criticized each and every time. The first hotel in New York, even though it was a historic hotel in the theater district, had a parking lot that was too exposed and the entrance did not have the hotel name emblazoned on it clearly enough. Plus, she didn't like the locks on her door. It's been like this every step of the way. 

I could go on and on. I probably already have. Anytime I take a photo she has to take the same exact photo. She has to read out loud every news headline she sees on her phone and stare at us until we respond. She also has to read out loud every sign that we pass by. "Oh! This place has an Aldi's! A Dunkin Donuts! A Texas Roadhouse!" "Oh, look, that signs says that place is for Children's Aid, I wonder what that's about?" And then will look at us, as if we know the answer.

Ah look, she is in great shape for her age, and god knows, my parents wouldn't be able to endure this trip. So we are thankful for that. 

Still, it was nice to be able to put her into her room somewhat early tonight. I know Corb was feeling that way, too. As he started in to his second turn around the hotel, I could hear him muttering, "The nights almost over...the nights almost over..."

It made me smile. We have four more days. Pray for us.