I’m not sure how it happened but we’re enjoying one gorgeous Indian Summer day.  The sun is shining, the day is crystal clear, and the wind is blowing with a slight chill.   My better-half is again on a day off and again obsessing about chores around the house until I want to scream. We’ve been house bound for a week and days off are meant to be DAYS OFF. It took some doing but I strong-armed her into getting out for some picture taking and a ride along coast. 

I have to admit it was one of my best ideas ever.  The beaches were empty of tourists and the first one we visited was peaceful and quiet and highly enjoyable.

As we traveled south we stopped occasionally to snap a few pics and all the while I was directing us towards the Kennebunkport area.  We normally visit that town once or twice each summer but this year we were just too busy.  I was planning a nice surprise lunch at Federal Jack’s Restaurant and a leisurely stroll around town to window shop.  Federal Jack’s is also the home of the Shipyard Brewing Company, a perennial favorite of my better-half who is responsible for keeping their shares of stock at such a high level.

My side-story for today started six years ago and involved a plate of bad mussels at a nearby restaurant which will remain nameless (Olive Garden), a few drinks, followed by three hours of projectile vomiting where I’m sure I set a new world record for distance.  Since that time I’ve been unable to look at, think about or eat mussels.  Over the last few months I’ve found myself tempted to try some once again but always chickened out.  I was determined today to finally get that food monkey off my back.  My order of mussels was delivered, consumed, and thoroughly enjoyed.

‘Before’

“After”

They  were so  briny and  garlicky,  I was in hog heaven.  I’m so happy to have mussels returned to  the top of my favorite  food’s list. It’s been a long  time coming and a big hooray for me. We did our stroll through town, enjoyed some window shopping, and then returned to the car for the ride home. A slow and easy ride north along the coast road.

All in all it was a wonderful day and I’m glad we took advantage of it.  The next trip to this area will probable involve snow, ice, parka’s, tassel hats, and gloves. There’s nothing more fun or colder than walking the beach in January and February.

One last photograph that I stumbled upon as we were passing a very old cemetery.  This is the place my late father, the golfer, would have wanted to be buried.  It’s not often you can see a golf course and ball washer from your plot.