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Showing posts from July, 2011

The Anniversary Getaway, part 3

8 AM and time to get up for breakfast . I’m suffering from sleep deprivation and having half my brain not in this world. Troy made me coffee from the Keurig machine in the hallway while I showered and dressed. After relaxing until 9, we went downstairs, accompanied as always by the creaky floors and a CD of soft piano music. Katherine seated us at the long dining room table and treated us to the most exquisite breakfast I’ve ever had: a starter of her own coffee blend, a freshly made tomato juice (like V-8, only better!), and her own award-winning recipe for cold cantaloupe soup, topped with whipped cream. Oh, my. And then came fluffy biscuits, baked in a small, well-seasoned cast iron skillet and real butter, and Katherine’s homemade strawberry jam. And then, the main course, “Bloomsbury Benedict,” her version of Eggs Benedict. Oh my, oh my, oh my. And I was still a little full from Italian the night before, and couldn’t finish it all. My Midwestern farm upbringing still won’t let

The Anniversary Getaway, Part 2

So, we pulled into the driveway of this gorgeous house . I’m seriously ruing that I forgot to pack my camera. (Troy told me to, specifically, and it slipped my mind in the hurry of finishing my packing after church.) Troy began to tell me part of why he chose this place—it’s owned by a husband and wife who are both retired Air Force colonels. The husband, Dr. Bruce Brown, met us on the porch. We stepped into the foyer, which in the classic antebellum style, gave us a view into both front rooms, beautifully furnished with antiques, books, and various effects. The parlor on the left was done in a foxhunting theme, in keeping with the horseracing side of Camden culture, while the one on the right held an extensive library and china collection. Att this point, I’m sure I was staring with mouth open. After Bruce checked us in, he led us upstairs to “the General’s room,” the only chamber furnished with a king-sized bed. The staircase and all the floors were delightfully squeaky. We settled

The Great Anniversary Getaway

Husbands. I have one of the good ones. Two weeks before our twenty-fourth anniversary, I found out the church’s Fourth-of-July picnic would be the same day (Sunday, the third) and I joked about them having it in honor of our anniversary. A week or so beforehand, he told me not to make any plans. I reminded him about the picnic. He asked me if I was set on being there. Thinking through the implications of why he’d ask that, I told him possibly not. And oh yes, he added, pack an overnight bag. This conversation actually took place over several days, in my husband’s usual laconic style, but I was thrilled. I couldn’t wait to see what he had planned. We’ve only been away together, overnight, a handful of times since having the kids, but—whatever it was, I was sure to enjoy whatever he went to the trouble of planning. Of course I went through the gamut of “can this weekend possibly come any slower?” to “I’m going to enjoy it if it kills me” to “I hope we go somewhere quiet so I can just