calling all mainiacs

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If you ever find yourself forced to cancel a weekend in Vegas per the recommendation of your doctors for the healing of 3 different itises, I highly recommend getting your generous* boyfriend to drive you to your happy place, pour a glass of wine**, and exhale.

In my case, that happy place is my family’s beach house in York, Maine.  The spanning windows, sprawling couches and calming waves never cease to reset my conflicted soul.  With a little help from the (gooftastic) powers of modern medicine, we explored a bit of downtown Portland (apparently putting mashed potatoes in donuts is a very good idea), had whisky drinks in a church-turned-bar (mine was called the Enlightenment, har har), and admired the city’s impeccable signage.  Curious about potato donuts?  Get the maple.  Also the sweet potato ginger and/or the chai.  It’s a Maine thing, go with it.  Skeptical of pushing past the big red doors of what appears to be a fully functioning church when you’re simply seeking snacks?  Go on in, the circular bar and original stained glass windows will astound you.

If donuts and drinks don’t cure your swollen toes, try a therapeutic walk in the sand.  Collect some sea glass, find a heart-shaped rock, get some vitamin d.  Still sore?  Slip some chicory into your tea.***

Before heading home the next night, M and I watched the sun set over Portsmouth, New Hampshire, another little maze of businesses with notably attractive signs.  It was cold, I was tired, we could not find a restaurant to sit down in…but we held hands the whole time so none of this mattered.  Okay, this was my best attempt at writing a non-gushy post about what was, in reality, a mushy, gushy, swoon-worthy weekend during which my best friend became my best best friend.  Is that a thing?  Was this too much?  Disclaimer: If you answered No then Yes, do not read on.

 

*bonus points if he’s also tall, handsome, and willing to piggyback you when need be ;)

**don’t forget to sniffy sniff, swish, and spit.  Thanks Gary! (or is it Frank?)

***mix 1-2 shots with Trader Joe’s chai in a K cup mug.  Sip, sip, kiss, repeat.

 

photos of me by Michael Collins

good morning

This is not a bad view to wake up to in the morning.  There’s something about hearing the waves, smelling the blueberry pancakes, and feeling the salty air on your face before opening your eyes that sets the tone for a relaxing summer day.  And then you open your eyes.  And it’s calm blue water as far as you can see.  Say it with me now, ahhh.  Happy Tuesday, lovelies!