If You're Ever Up This Way...

Have I got a place for you to stay.

But I digress. As usual.

A few weeks ago, Hubby and I celebrated yet another wedding anniversary.

*bowing*

I know, I know. Can you believe it? I mean, he still cleans the bathroom for me AND he didn't kick me to the curb at all for stealing his Milano cookies. Not once, this entire year, and let me just say, I stole A LOT of his cookies. He's a good man, my Hubby.

But I'll be honest and say I was sort of blah about the whole thing. I was just getting over being sick and life was just being life. (You should interpret that as meaning my life=sucktastic.)

So Hubby, trying to be my ever thoughtful Hubby, said "Well, where would you like to go? We'll go anywhere you want."

Well, that was easy. The ocean. I wanted to go to the beach.

It's quiet this time of year, empty of tourists, and breathtakingly beautiful. I wanted to go there.

He found the perfect place to stay--but again, more on that later.

A nor-easter had blown in to the south of us the night before we left. The resulting waves were spectacular. They pounded into the concrete walls and showered down onto the street.

We walked and walked and contemplated why the seagulls were so damn huge. As in freakishly huge. (Mayhaps the Seabrook Nuclear Power Plant? Just saying.)

We also contemplated the cruelty of others.



Poor Paddington. He's an innocent bear. What did he ever do to deserve that?

The best part, however, was the inn Hubby booked us.

Are you ready for this? Really ready? Because it's that good...

He found an inn...that's also a bakery.

I know. That's exactly what I said, only with a few more expletives thrown in.

Told you he was good.

We strolled into the inn at check-in time, and I gasped and froze. The countertops were loaded with heaven. Brownies and cookies and candy. As far as the eye could see.

I'd reached Nirvana, I tell you.

Let me just say, you have not experienced life until you sit up in bed at eleven o'clock at night because you've been roused by the smell of freshly baking made from scratch cookies. Cookies you did not have to bake and cookies you are allowed to eat--as much as you want, when you want.

No, you haven't.

So, if you're ever up this way-and I strongly suggest you do consider it--I know just the place to stay.

Go here.

Wait. That's not it. How did that happen?

Okay. This is it.

Wait. That's not it, either.

Okay. How about this?

No?

This? This? Or this?

Never mind. THIS is it. Welcome to the Arbor Inn. My only regret is I can't move in and stay.

And for the record, if anyone is looking for some holiday gift ideas for yours truly, I'd say you'd be really safe going with that Simply Sinful gift basket. Just, you know, in case you wanted to know.

Quote Of The Day:

Hubby and I are in the car, driving to the beach. I open my mom's card to us, which she'd told us contained our anniversary gift, and begin to read it outloud.

Me: The front says, "All the moments that have made all the memories--" and the inside says, "What a beautiful life you two have shared!"

Silence falls in the car.

Finally, Hubby speaks.

Hubby: Shared? As in, it's finally over? Really? I'm free? Now that's what I call an anniversary gift!

*For the record, that was not our gift and my mom did pen in underneath "and are sharing." Apparently, she knows Hubby far too well.