Jen and I departed the pastoral beauty of the Quilici farm in Randolph, heading south for our new fav city/town, Brattleboro. We'd high hopes of scoring a room at the most awesome Latchis Hotel and having one last day of gallery hopping, museuming and enjoying the exquisite mixology magic of Metropolis' owners, Alan Blackwell and Alyssa Blittersdorf.
It was not to be though. The Latchis was full and, in fact, the only joint around with an available flop was the Holiday Inn Express. We figured Eww but the lack of cute, cozy style would be serious levels of no big deal.
After a lovely lunch of tempeh tacos and sweet potato tots at the fab Whetstone Station, Jen called the hotel to find that they were charging $230 for one night. At the Holiday Inn Express?! What the ever burning fuck?! When asked if there wasn't a less expensive option, the very nice, obviously young, abundantly sincere clerk said 'well no, it's Pumpkin Weekend!' She thankfully left out the 'DUH!' coda.
Pumpkin Weekend -- that would explain all the tour busses and crowds every where we went, huh? Duh indeed.
We figured we'd head south after our art gawking -- our Metropolis induced heaven will have to wait for next visit. Three hotel stops later -- it's a BIG pumpkin/parents-visiting-prep-school-kids/harvest weekend everywhere it seems -- we finally found a bed.
Yea us. The down side of staying free, fluid and unplanned-ish is having to hunt for a hotel and settle for something less than adorably charming. We're at the Hampton in Greenfield Massachusetts. Very nice but there's a significant dearth of sweet pizzazz.
By the time we collapsed into out room, Jen and I had officially achieved mega crankitudeness. We're always like this at the end of a holiday. Why? Day after day of being on the go -- doing, seeing, socializing -- exhausts us. Of course. Last night we did what we should have done mid-vaca. We hit the grocery for a nice malbec, a tray of brown rice California roll sushi and mini rice cakes. Then we curled up in the giant soft bed and read. For Jen My Mother Was Nuts by Penny Marshall. For me Among the Janeites by Deborah Yaffe.
Perfect.
Later we'll motor home where I'll download the 5,000,006 pics I took and attempt to recall where I shot what and, in some cases, WHY?.
Cheers!
It was not to be though. The Latchis was full and, in fact, the only joint around with an available flop was the Holiday Inn Express. We figured Eww but the lack of cute, cozy style would be serious levels of no big deal.
After a lovely lunch of tempeh tacos and sweet potato tots at the fab Whetstone Station, Jen called the hotel to find that they were charging $230 for one night. At the Holiday Inn Express?! What the ever burning fuck?! When asked if there wasn't a less expensive option, the very nice, obviously young, abundantly sincere clerk said 'well no, it's Pumpkin Weekend!' She thankfully left out the 'DUH!' coda.
Pumpkin Weekend -- that would explain all the tour busses and crowds every where we went, huh? Duh indeed.
We figured we'd head south after our art gawking -- our Metropolis induced heaven will have to wait for next visit. Three hotel stops later -- it's a BIG pumpkin/parents-visiting-prep-school-kids/harvest weekend everywhere it seems -- we finally found a bed.
Yea us. The down side of staying free, fluid and unplanned-ish is having to hunt for a hotel and settle for something less than adorably charming. We're at the Hampton in Greenfield Massachusetts. Very nice but there's a significant dearth of sweet pizzazz.
By the time we collapsed into out room, Jen and I had officially achieved mega crankitudeness. We're always like this at the end of a holiday. Why? Day after day of being on the go -- doing, seeing, socializing -- exhausts us. Of course. Last night we did what we should have done mid-vaca. We hit the grocery for a nice malbec, a tray of brown rice California roll sushi and mini rice cakes. Then we curled up in the giant soft bed and read. For Jen My Mother Was Nuts by Penny Marshall. For me Among the Janeites by Deborah Yaffe.
Perfect.
Later we'll motor home where I'll download the 5,000,006 pics I took and attempt to recall where I shot what and, in some cases, WHY?.
Cheers!
