As usual, we had to split Chooch’s move-in across two weekends because it’s just us trying to move his shit in a Kona. You’re not allowed to bring a U-Haul and we don’t have anyone to ask to help so…two trips it is.

Henry had the bright idea of “taking the slow and leisurely way” and stopping in Lancaster on the way. First of all, he still took the turnpike, so I don’t know what the point was of “slow and leisurely.” Everything was fine until we got to Lancaster. We were having a fine morning in the car, listening to the Kpop playlist I made for Lyda, railing against MAGA, talking about G-Dragon. You know, the usual things that parents of a college student talk about it in the car on their way to bring their kid the rest of his underwear, his pillow that he apparently forgot, and other sundry that will probably never be unpacked. (Although, the iced coffee maker did make it out immediately and he was practically hugging it. Priorities.)

Usually, our go-to is Dutch Haven for shoo-fly pie, but I have been following this new-ish place called Lancaster Beignet Co (so much effort went into this naming convention that I am over here mopping my brow just thinking of the exertion) on Instagram since they opened in 2022. We have actually dipped into Lancaster numerous times since then but I always forget about it. This time though, I said it out loud and not just in my head, and that’s all it takes to solidify itineraries around these parts.

We arrived around 11:30, having made pretty good time on the road. With the exception of the times we went to Lancaster for concerts at the Chameleon Club, we have never actually been DOWNTOWN Lancaster. We always just go to the Amish-y outskirts, the weirdly-named towns like INTERCOURSE and BIRD-IN-HAND, you know, those areas.

“Didn’t we go to a quilt shop here once with Jessy?” Henry asked, and I said, “Maybe, but I probably was trying to smother myself with one of the quilts and blacked that memory out.” I loved Jessy but man – we could not be ANY DIFFERENT, lol.

Anyway. We made it and it was just crowded enough to make me annoyed. It was also really small inside with very little seating and the people working there were like cardboard. Not TO BE A KAREN but to me, personality matters. The way someone interacts with me at a cafe or a restaurant is sometimes more memorable than the product. And these people were just like, potatoes. Just stood there blankly until I nudged Henry to order because I think he was waiting for them to initiate the transaction and that was clearly not going to happen.

We got an order of three beignet (the smallest order) and then sat on some glorified balcony overlooking the sidewalk and main street. Henry was mad because the guy sitting at the table next to us refused to scoot his chair in. I don’t know if these were locals or LANCASTER LOLLYGAGGERS but I got an annoying vibe from everyone in general.

And then the beignet were just mid.

Also, pro tip: don’t eat beignet around Henry if you don’t want to be:

• embarrassed
• sprayed with powdered sugar

I had to ask him in a not-nice tone to please CALM DOWN and not eat like a medieval thug tearing into a turkey leg.

I don’t know why I get like this, but this mediocre experience set the tone for the next hour and my emotions went into a free-fall. The prominent feeling was one of pouty annoyance, I would say.

Also, it could be possible that I just really care for beignet? But I was super pissed that I chose  this over shoo-fly pie, that is FOR FUCKING SURE.

But then! While we were sitting on the fake balcony, I spotted a cafe across the street and was glad that we didn’t get drinks at this dumb beignet place because now we had a reason to go here instead and it was A DELIGHT. Like, as soon as we crossed the threshold, a bro behind the counter welcomed us happily and it was so genuine, like he could not WAIT to get a refreshing drink started for us. I was charmed by his enthusiasm and immediately ordered an iced blackberry matcha, which was the seasonal spesh.

But then I got annoyed again because Henry came lumbering over to the counter, all indecisive (he can’t just admit that he doesn’t like coffee). There was a wheel of Pokemon and other Japanese cartoon-inspired drinks so I egged him on to spin it. He fucking spun the wheel right off the pedestal and it went careening down the counter. Ugh, he has to manhandle everything, I swear! He eventually reassembled it and spun it with less toxic masculinity the second time around and ended up getting something that I can’t even remember now. Caramel and something latte BUT HE HATES ESPRESSO.

He was nursing that motherfucker for HOURS.

Also, this was a CBD-inspired cafe so they asked us if we wanted any CBD in our drinks. I said “no” like a normal human, but Henry practically had his fingers on his NARC NARC NARC speed dial button.

My matcha was fantastic.

I had to send this  to Chooch because we have this thing where we accuse Henry of “looking” every time we pass an adult store.

Also, we never knew that there was a market house thingie in Lancaster?? We went in but it was pretty crowded and I got overwhelmed very quickly, also these places are annoying because Henry “just likes to look” and never buys anything ALSO it was adding to my beignet regrets (beigrets?) because there were tons of more appealing treats on display here! U G H. Those fucking beignets. I’m unfollowing their Instagram account. I won’t be fooled again.

Then we left and got in a fight because I wanted to go to some shop but Henry was like THE SIDEWALK IS CLOSED, THEY ARE DOING CONSTRUCTION but you could still access the shop?? So I pointed that out all huffily and he was like “OK then let’s cross the street” but I was too busy storming off and pretending to not hear him calling out, “Hey! Don’t you want to go this store? Hello?”

UM YES I DID BEFORE YOU RUINED  MY LIFE BY MANSPLAINING HOW SIDEWALKS WORK.

So we walked back to the car and he was like THAT’S IT WE ARE LEAVING AND DRIVING STRAIGHT TO PHILLY and I was like FINE GO FUCK YOURSELF ON THE WAY and then he was like PLEASE JUST LET’S GO WALK BACK DOWN THERE SO YOU CAN GO TO THAT SHOP and he was basically crying about it so I said FINE but then we went to a different store instead and it was dumb and I got boxed into a corner by the three very tall men and a middle aged couple who were chatting up the clerk and refused to fucking move. I couldn’t handle it so I fled.

I was about to write off down Lancaster after that but after we got back to the car and barely drove a block on our way our, WE SAW A SWEDISH CANDY STORE. So Henry drove in a large loop back to where we had originally parked so we could walk back to the candy store and my mood was 100% improved.

I already liked salty licorice before our Coaster Crew Norden trip, but being there and eating FRESH, AUTHENTIC SALTY LICORICE changed me. I mean, it at least changed my palate I’ll tell you that much. Sadly, the salty licorice I liked the most was salmiakki from Finland so none of that was to be found at this shop.

They did have this gourmet candied licorice that we actually did buy in Denmark and Sweden but it didn’t taste as luxurious here. I guess it loses something in the import process, but also the kind we had bought over there was a big splurge – it was the “slow crafted” variety which cost more but was SO WORTH IT. I still have the glass jar because it has MEMORIES attached to it now.

Henry got his own bag because he didn’t want his candy rubbing up against my salty licorice hahaha. Also, those Geisha candies are delicious chocolates from this company called Fazer. They had cafes and shops in Finland and we stopped there several times. I had amazing salmiakki ice cream at one on our last night in Helsinki, and we waked to a nearby Fazer cafe every morning we were there and they gave me chocolate with my coffee. I was obsessed and miss that place so much. So, all this did was make me super nostalgic and SICK because I literally ate half the bag on the drive home that night and proceeded to moan and groan in agony like any other outcome was ever an option??

We got Chooch his own bucket of candies too. <3

Then it was Dutch Haven time! A very tall man practically chased me down to and me a plate of two tiny one-bite shoo-fly pie samples, much appreciated. It is the BEST place to get shoo-fly pie. Not that I have had it from very many other places, but I trust Dutch Haven.

Uncle Idiot and his product.

(Can you believe he didn’t buy a bag????) Don’t worry, he got a soft pretzel – just one for him, didn’t even ask me if I wanted one too, so this started another fight after we got back in the car hahaha. Hoo boy was I little bitchin’ Sybil on this day. (Everyday.)

Henry ruined this picture.

(I really thought this sign was coded, like all the red letters spell something on their own but then I lost interest trying to pull EXCEPT MAGA out of it.)

We also bought a full shoo-fly pie for Chooch and his roommates. More on the Philly portion of the day later!

When researching this trip (and to be frank, not as much effort was put into this as I usually would have), there was one BIG NON-NEGOTIABLE, NON-COASTER tourist attraction that I found and refused to forget: The Shrine of the Grotto of the Redemption in West Bend, Iowa.

Henry was big annoyed about this, but we managed to fit it in on Thursday, on the way to Lost Island Theme Park in Waterloo. Chooch, having paid attention to absolutely nothing aside from “Erin’s birthday trip” had no clue what was going on so when we parked, he looked out the window and incredulously cried, “What the hell is THIS???” And to be clear, his tone was incredulous in a disgruntled and put-out tone, and not even remotely awestruck.

What is this place, one might ask? To summarize with the help of Wiki because I have had half of a beer and can barely type:

The Shrine of the Grotto of the Redemption is a religious shrine in West Bend, Iowa, in the Roman Catholic Diocese of Sioux City. A conglomeration of nine grottos depicting scenes in the life of Jesus, it contains a large collection of minerals and petrifications and is believed to be the largest grotto in the world.

It is also “considered to be the world’s most complete man-made collection of minerals, fossils, shells, and petrifications in one place.” The estimated value of the rocks and minerals which make up the Grotto is over $4,308,000. Over 100,000 people visit each year.

It includes a museum with precious and semiprecious stones from throughout the world, and photos and artifacts about the construction of the shrine.

I did learn on my own that this was originally constructed in Wisconsin and eventually moved to West Bend, Iowa.

I am not religious but I will honestly go out of my way to gawk at religious tourist attractions and cathedrals. I love me some cathedrals, especially in Europe.

I tried sharing with Chooch that I enjoyed a small window of “rock collector” status when I was in elementary school but he gave no fucks. It’s true though – there was some science-y nerd hut in Century III Mall near the pet store and I was obsessed with it. My grandma actually let me pick out a rock collection starter set once and I thought I was a geologist at that point, like show me the way to the next quarry, I’ll be there as soon as I ask my mom to drive me.

My collection didn’t go very far, and I kept fucking with some of the more fragile ones so much that they started to flake apart. And aside from purchasing some pyrite and other basic backyard rocks from the Laurel Caverns gift shop, I eventually moved on to other collections. Like collector spoons and brochures from rest stops and hotel lobbies, crippling insecurities, and hitchhikers, and eventually antique wheelchairs. My life has been so full.

Of crap.

Chooch got a call related to campus housing for the fall (he’s staying in some swanky suite with three friends and that’s going to be fun paying for that now too) so he disappeared for a while. How is he an adult now, I hate it.

(And adult in Minions Crocs, mind you.)

I kept demanding pictures of myself because I was so stoked to be here, lol.

This is smack in the center of a small neighborhood. Imagine having this majestic rock palace outside of your house. You could take your lunch break inside one of the caves, chilling next to a shark skull and Baby Jesus while noshing on a PB&J.

I did catch Chooch taking some pictures so guess he thought it was interesting there after all!

This particularly reminded me of Fruity Pebbles and melted Crayon art. Obsessed.

That pop of green!

There were even shells and creepy skeletons and bones from the sea.

Can you believe that Henry CLEANED THE LENS and  took another picture of this one because of the “glare”??? I  was like, “Um excuse me, what glare? That’s the fucking SEARCH LIGHT FROM HEAVEN singling me out, motherfucker.”

Originally, it was going to be nighttime when we stopped here (it’s always open to the public) and I think it would have been so majestic and ethereal at night so I’m kind of bummed that Henry switched things up. (He’s so good at that, why do I bother with an itinerary.)

LOL Chooch, always on Troll Patrol.

It was so nice that it wasn’t 100 degrees this day so I was able to have my picture taken without looking like a glazed ham beneath a frizzy coif. This was the first day of the whole trip that I actually blew dry and straightened my hair knowing it wouldn’t immediately soak up the humidity and revolt.

The gift shop was pretty mid. It was mostly actual religious gifts and rosaries, etc. and less souvenir-leaning. I got a really blah magnet BUT also a matchbook which looks like it was made in the 70s. I was really looking for a commemorative plate because the museum had a whole collection of those in a case and I was hoping that maybe they had a current design, but I GUESS NOT.

LOOK AT THIS CEILING!!!

Obsessed, you guys. Obsessed. In my opinion, definitely worth a stop if you’re even remotely in the area. It’s free but they accept donations, so we did donate + we made a gift shop purchase. They offer free guided tours as well and one was just starting while we were there, but we just didn’t have enough time since we needed to drive an additional 2.5 hours to the next stop after this.

Shit, son, am I getting too old for this or what? We’re only on Day 3 and I am so depleted lol. Granted it’s been 95 degrees every day and we have been at amusement parks aka pavement tundras. Today was Silver Dollar City and it was a long ass motherfucking day. Mostly good but there were some low lights as to be expected with long and humid days navigating crowds (actually wasn’t crowded though) and hunger. A ton of memorable moments though that will probably become long-lasting inside jokes of course – I laughed so hard at one point that it felt like I damaged something internally.

One of the last things we did before calling it a night was have Chooch take pictures of us in front of VICTOR THE BULL, downtown Branson.

You’re welcome ;)

Bonus: here’s a picture before we went to SDC, from a “scenic outlook” which was anything but?!

Random jean skirt?!

Meanwhile, we were joking that even at the scenic overview, there was a huge billboard for Dolly Parton’s Stampede. It is legit everywhere you look around here.

Even the elevator door at our dumb hotel that chooch and I hate but Henry loves. We’re annoyed because there is a really beautiful hotel called HOTEL VICTORIAN at the top of the hill but Henry was too cheap to let us stay there. So Chooch’s response to everything is, “I bet THE VICTORIAN has [insert something our hotel doesn’t have].”

Last night, we walked up the road to get to the main drag so Chooch could get some stupid +1 coaster cred at one of the many family fun zones here. It’s a pretty steep grade and Chooch huffed, “We wouldn’t have to walk up a hill if we stayed at the VICTORIAN.”

Then this morning, he said, “I’m opening the window so everyone at the VICTORIAN can look down on us.”

Dude you guys were fucking delirious at this point, lol.

We just stopped at the Arch on our way to Six Flags – the first time I saw it IRL was at night when we drove past it en route to Silver Dollar City. Even then it was horrifying to me. Being up close at its base was even scarier!

Please enjoy these pictures. We didn’t do the tour because we don’t have enough time but being there was enough for me, tbh!

Just for something to do today, we laid loose plans to go to Ligonier for the day. Technically not quite in Ligonier, but we stopped at the Lincoln Highway Museum first. I only just recently learned that this place existed which is nuts because we have driven part of the Lincoln Highway many times on trips to eastern PA. I wasn’t sure what this place would entail (I mean, obv. highway educational tropes) but I did know that coffee and a slice of pie is included in the admission and that was enticing for me!

I want to say first off that the woman working at the welcome desk was the EPITOME of welcoming. Like, give her a wagon already. She was a delight and seemed genuinely invested in the quality of our visit by giving us a pamphlet, A STAMPED POSTCARD (this comes into play later!), instructions on how to use the self-guided audio wand, detailed directions to the restroom (which was what Henry asked her IMMEDIATELY, so embarrassing), etc. She was great. I wish I caught her name but I am so bad at that.

Hoshi!

I loved the photos of some of the roadside attractions in their glory days. Anyone who knows me even a little knows I am Amish-enamored with a penchant for that sweet ass shoo fly pie so and have visited Dutch Haven many times over the years. I am so glad that it’s still thriving!

Historic Route 30: Dutch Pies, Elusive Pretzels & a Pachyderm Paradise

And the shoe house! Grateful that Chooch and I got to tour it before it closed to the public :( I think Henry said it’s an air bnb now ugh.

…then whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.

Then in this room, the museum lady came in and turned on a 13 minute video for us. Right before that, Henry was like, “We better choose our seats” and I thought he was joking because we….were the only people in the room and there were about 50 empty seats? But he wasn’t joking so now I’m scared that he’s seeing dead people. I mean, the museum is in an old….something. I wasn’t paying attention.

You guys my ADHD is unhinged. I zoned out almost immediately after the museum lady turned off the lights and shut the door on her way out. Henry was enthralled, but I was reading my Insta DMs. There was this one point where I thought it was over so I whisper-yelled, “Yay!” but it was just a very long blank transition into the next scene.

Any road enthusiasts out there can feel free to ask Henry for a synopsis because he watched the whole thing like a hawk and probably was saying, “Knew that. Knew that too. Yep, already knewed.” while mentally chopping away at Rt 30 facts as they came at him like some boring infrastructure version of Fruit Ninja.

(OK look. That is the one part I was listening to, when something was being discussed about INFRASTRUCTURE and in my head, I burnt myself on the lit up lightbulb and said, “OH THAT IS WHAT INFRASTRUCTURE IS” because literally the other day some political canvasser came to my house and was yapping on and on about why he supports the guy running against our current mayor and he was like, “and because of the infrastructure” and I said, “Yeah totally” but had no idea what was going on. This guy was like 20 too and had his finger way more firmly on the pulse of local politics. I will be frank here and say that I pay attention to world news and national news but NEVER watch the local news so I have no idea if I’m for or against our current mayor. I do know his name at least and he’s who I voted for in the last election, did I do bad?)

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day so I sent this to Chooch. His response?

“Wow.”

You already knew that. Just like Henry and his Lincoln Highway knewing.

Not pictured, but there was also an exhibit on license plates and they said that all but like….3 or 4 states? have inmates making license plates and I practically screamed OMG THAT’S ACTUALLY TRUE?? Henry just smirked and nodded because again, he knows everything. I wonder if he knows this one firsthand though…

OK OMG OMG OMG this whole time I was like “I HOPE WE CAN FIND A PEN SOMEWHERE, I HOPE THERE IS A PEN IN THE CAR, I HOPE THERE IS A MAILBOX NEARBY” but then there was a whole section of the museum DEVOTED TO POSTCARDS with TABLES AND PENS AND A MAILBOX!!!!!

I was GEEKED.

I made Henry write one to his mom. He tried to say he didn’t know her address off by heart and I said, “NO WORRIES I HAVE IT SAVED TO HER CONTACT INFO ON MY PHONE” and spun my phone so that the screen faced him. I am always prepared in case there are postcards in the near future.

I wrote mine to Chooch! I signed it MOMMY and wrote “stan Johnnie Guilbert” on it too so he will be so thrilled when he gets that. If he ever checks his mailbox.

They had enlarged postcards from the past on display. This place was totally my jam.

I loved this! It reminded me of when I was smoking in highschool (UGH) and used to purposely go to the same 2 0r 3 diners specifically to use their cigarette machines. WTF was wrong with me. Well, I mean, aside from being addicted to nicotine.

My dad would be so stoked on so many of these exhibits! He is a connoisseur of pop machines and coolers and ESPECIALLY loves his bevvies in glass bottles. Definitely mentioned this numerous times but Henry won my dad’s heart by gifting him with a case of glass-bottled Faygo root beer for Christmas years ago.

Before roadside motels, there were roadside CABINS and this is what the inside of one looked like, much nicer than a lot of the places Henry has had us holed up in, that’s for sure.

The pie and coffee portion of the tour came at the end. There is an actual vintage diner inside the museum!

That lady over there was so nice and got our pies for us. Two men came in right after us and also sat at the counter. It turned out that they were from Mt. Lebanon which is just two towns over from us, so that was kind of wild. The diner lady was laughing because she said she expected to meet people from all over when she started working there but most people are from within an hour away. She said the first guy she ever met there was from Latrobe, and she was like UGH THAT’S WHERE I’M FROM TOO. Lol.

Somehow, she mentioned that her daughter is in Portugal this week and the guys were like, “Oh wow one of our friends is also in Portugal this week!” The full sitch was that her daughter was going with friends and meeting a friend over there, and they were like, “OUR FRIEND IS ALSO GOING WITH FRIENDS AND MEETING A FRIEND THERE?!” and the lady was like, “What is your friend’s name? No, that doesn’t sound familiar.”

I peaced-out somewhere through that discourse but tuned back in at the end and thought, “Oh what a bummer” but then I just asked Henry for the full story because after we left, he was like, “THEIR FRIEND AND HER DAUGHTER HAVE TO BE GOING TO MEET THE SAME FRIEND THAT IS TOO COINCIDENTAL” and I was like, “I’m saying.” But I had no idea what was going on until right now, hours later, as I’m writing this so you and I, blog, are learning together.

Look, don’t expect a fat ass slice, but it’s free so just be happy with that. Honestly, it was good, maybe not Double R Diner tier, but I would have definitely written home about it if I hadn’t already mailed the postcard.

(OMFG HENRY FOUND THE INSTAGRAM OF THE FRIEND OF THE GUYS’ NEXT TO US AND SAID, “YEP THIS IS HER BECAUSE SHE’S IN PORTUGAL” but we don’t know the museum diner lady’s daughter’s name so what good is that…? Creep.)

After this, we did other things which I will post about later. But this was a good start to the day and I had no complaints.

You guys will never believe this but while we were on the way to the brewery last Saturday, we drove past the Butler Institute of American Art and I caught a sign that said FREE ADMISSION. So, while we were at lunch, I suggested that we stop there before driving home since we had been drinking, so that we could sober up, etc.

(This makes it sound like we were blitzed but we really weren’t. It’s just that it was over an hour drive home and who wants to be in the car that long after eating and drinking?)

Meanwhile, Mrs. It’s Not That We Were Drunk said, “Take a picture of me with this bitch” and then as I was backing up to get closer, I didn’t notice that there was a small step, so I tripped BACKWARD and landed right on my butt in front of “this bitch.”

The perfect display of “I meant to that do.”

Henry hardly EVER laughs at anything I do or say but this got a BIG BELLY LAUGH from the old man.

I used to smoke those 

Dude don’t worry. We truly weren’t THOSE PEOPLE inside the museum. I promise. We were quiet, normal, and respectful. Henry even asked one of the docents a question. OK, it was just “Where is the restroom?” but then later he asked another one a real question about whether or not the paintings in the section we were in had been restored at all. The docent was like, “Well….some of them have, yeah. Like this one for example—-” and then pointed to the one we were standing near and we were like, “OK cool good to know” but then he continued standing there, staring at it dreamily long after we turned a corner. It was kind of creepy but also made me think to myself: “Aw.”

Anyway, it was crazy actually looking at art with Henry???!!! We never do stuff like this together! He hates the Mattress Factory, for example, although that is a totally different beast, to be fair.

They should put this outside in front of that bitch.

OMG obviously I loved this wing of the museum the most.

Figuring out how to install this in our living room.

Speaking of Mattress Factory, though, Yayoi Kusama has a permanent exhibit there (the infamous mannequin room!).

There were hardly any other art-peepers there that afternoon, so we really enjoyed the quiet and time we got to spend in each wing.

There’s one of these in the Mattress Factory too and I do not get it.

I loved this part of the museum because we had to walk across a pedestrian bridge to A CHURCH. I guess the actual church part is still used for you know, church things, but there were more exhibits upstairs. This room was a loft that overlooked the church below and I was obsessed!

Yes!!

I was so excited to see this! I have something similar-ish from my Pappap’s house!!!

We were in a race against the clock toward the end there though as an announcement came on warning patrons that the joint was closing in 30 minutes.

“We can come back again, you know,” Henry huffed as I raced past him to see what was in a basement corridor (CLOWN SHIT!!! I ALMOST MISSED IT!). But in the end, we managed to make it through every part of the place and you know what? It was so much fun and Henry actually agreed. AND IT COST NOTHING! What a great way to spend an afternoon. We didn’t even argue!!?

Afterward, we stopped at nearby Pressed Coffee Bar for some after-art caffeine and sugar.

I got a strawberry white chocolate latte and it was alright. The sugar cookie we split was VERY HARD but still good. It was a sugar, after all, and sometimes any sugar is better than no sugar.

We rounded off our random Saturday Day Date with a stroll through some Youngstown cemetery that made me feel uncomfortable but it was fine.

It’s been decided that we will now try to do something like once a month or so. We’ll see how long that lasts, lol.

You guys, we were staying right down the street from the Bean and even though we have seen it several times before I thought that maybe, on a frigid Monday morning, there might not be crowds so we walked on over.

Had we been ONE MINUTE FASTER we’d have beaten this one couple who arrived seconds before us and proceeded to do an entire amateur photoshoot and I was trying to be polite and not get in their way but also, COME ON.

We stayed to the side for awhile and then finally when they were, readjusting or something, regrouping, discussing the next series of poses, who the fuck knows, I ran over and was able to have Henry take one picture of me quickly.

We were going to leave after that but I was like NO I WANT ONE TOGETHER THIS IS RIDICULOUS.

So I interrupted them and asked if they would take one of us together. The lady of the couple agreed and proceeded to take some very bizarre and unpopular angles, not once getting the whole Bean, and then I had to crop her fingers out of every shot.

Also, she somehow TURNED OFF LIVE so our “jumping shot” looks like this:

But whatever, I can’t complain too much because it was a nice to experience the Bean without throngs of people duck-facing it up.

She did take this “behind the scenes” video though so I guess there’s that lol.

Now my toes are frozen and we’re on our way home. I miss Taemin with my whole fucking heart in case you were wondering.

I didn’t feel like liveblogging and also Henry and I were listening to an audiobook like the lamest empty nesters who ever emptied their nest BUT we just stopped for lunch at a cute vegan spot called ROOTED VEGAN in a small Indiana town called ANGOLA. Props to me for finding it – Henry continues to do fuck all on the food finding front.

Ok first of all, the woman behind the counter was friendly and patient while Henry squinted at the menu behind her and bristled his moustache like it’s a facial Magic 8 Ball ready to choose his food for him.

I got the bakn chikn wrap and Henry got the Nashville chikn wrap – I fucking BEASTED mine. It was just what I wanted and now I’m full but not painfully so, and will probably be able to skip dinner so yay for that because I always panic about eating before a concert!!

We also got a lemon crinkle cookie and a chocolate cookie sandwich straight PUMPED with pumpkin frosting. Hoooooboy it was rich and decadent and that nearly pushed me over the edge but then we went for a stroll around the cutie courtyard/square area before getting back in the car so that helped.

Dude, that car/truck thing.

This place was so cutie!

After I took this picture of Sojouner Truth, some young guy in a BURNT UMBER hoodie and disheveled ginger hair stopped by and said, “That guy was a pedo.” He was pointing to another statue, and I felt like I needed to take a picture of it so as I walked over, he followed me and said, “Yeah he was gay but it was the 1800s so he couldn’t really do anything about it you know.”

I said something along the lines of “ya don’t say” but like, less 1950s and more modern times.

The Angola Pedo.

Then he continued along his way, stopping at each business and handing out a paper of unknown subject matter.

“Wow, I basically got a tour,” I said and Henry laughed REALLY HARD which disgusted me because it wasn’t funny at all.

IT’S BEEN REAL, ANGOLA.

P.S. I just went back and looked at that statue and that dude died in 1790-something so that guy gave me FAKE NEWS.

We spent the day in southern (?) West Virginia yesterday. I think it was southern. I don’t feel like looking at a map but I think we were at the bottom-ish of the state in Huntington. The main….attraction? was Camden Park which I’ll recap later in its own post, but afterward we had a late lunch (linner, really) at a nearby fastfood joint called Frostop. I saw it on Roadside America last week when I was scoping out the area around Camden Park and this was on there all thanks to the large, rotating mug of root beer that sits atop the snack shack like a crowned jewel of fastfood royalty.

I also saw that they have grilled cheese on the menu so it was a must-do at that point. Plus, I like root beer just fine.

Because I’m a fucking doof, I always search YouTube for videos on places that we are going to visit so I thought outloud, “I wonder if anyone made any Frostop videos?” Oh Erin, babe. Honey bunny with the half brain. Of course people have made videos about visiting Frostop. This is 21st century America. We the people have nothing better to do and there is an audience for anything. So, I found a video filmed last year and in that video, the girl working there that was being “interviewed” (ACTUALLY MIGHT HAVE BEEN OUR SERVER FROM YESTERDAY) said that the mug was not currently spinning because of some mechanical issue that was being looked at. So, that was a concern we had! I ONLY WANTED TO GO TO THIS PLACE TO SEE THE SPINNING ROOT BEER MUG! I WAS PROMISED A SPINNING ROOT BEER MUG!

As we drove down the road closer to its location, Henry spotted the mug on the horizon and HOLLERED, “It’s spinning!!!” I mean, great, but let’s not shout about it!?

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I guess Frostop is actually a brand of root beer and other “grandpa’s favorite” adjacent bevvies. For instance, I am 100% certain if I texted my dad right now and asked if he knows what Frostop is, he will fire back with an entire history of the brand alongside a picture of one of his pop machines with a row of Frostop for the taking. My dad LOVES pop, especially old-fashioned types.

But Frostop also has several “Drive-ins” in certain states, and the one in Huntington happens to be the closest one to us here in Pittsburgh so I really felt like we needed to stop here (even though Hillbilly Hot Dogs several miles away looked waaaaay cooler and actually veg options?!).

First impression: the girl who was working there yesterday was very friendly and personable and determined immediately that we were city folk who needed extra guidance. She explained that we could either stay in our car for CAR SERVICE (I didn’t realize this was a legit “drive-in”!) or we could sit at one of the umbrella’d tables and she’d be with us in a minute.

Second first impression: I LOVED THE AMBIANCE. Brown and cream is so ugly together but somehow it just works in these types of situations.

So honestly, this place could have had shitty food and I would still have enjoyed my time there. It was just my style. Add it to the list with Pal’s Sudden Service and Mr. Happy’s. 

And Mama Steve’s and Mr. Pancake.

The expressions.

I would like to note that Mush Brain struck again when the server asked what I wanted to drink and I confidently said, “Mountain Dew.”

“Sorry, we only have Coke products,” she said, and I was like, in my Mush Brain, thinking that was weird considering this was literally named for its root beer and that’s when I realized that MOUNTAIN DEW inexplicably came out of my mouth instead of root beer?!

“Oh! I meant to say root beer,” I corrected myself. “I don’t know why I said Mountain Dew,” and then I glanced at Henry who was looking at me with “are you having a stroke?” eyes. You guys, Mountain Dew was my drink of choice for pretty much all of my teens and into my early 20s until I basically quit drinking pop / soda cold turkey so I can’t even remember the last time I actually ordered a Mountain Dew at a restaurant or pulled one out of a cooler in a gas station, yet for some reason it rolled so effortlessly and familiarly off my tongue like I blinked and it was 2001 again.

Bizarre.

But yes, I know I said I never drink sodas anymore but I had to make an exception and get the root beer that they are famously named for! You can’t go to Frostop and not get a Frostop, or so I hear!

Chooch got a lemonade and we both opted to get our drinks in mugs. Henry got his in a to-go cup for some reason.

OK, HERE’S THE REVIEW: The root beer tasted like ordinary root beer to me (also, I’m glad that in the video we watched, the guys got root beer floats because prior to watching that I had grand designs to float it up but then I saw them and they are MASSIVE. It would have knocked me out for the day, and I might have had to puke at some point on the way home, not trying to be vulgar for once, just honest!!!). The grilled cheese was a big time meh. The bread was meh, it was barely “grilled,” and the cheese was soooo bad, like something you’d expect to be served up in a nursing home. Like, if my brain was cheese – mushy, but less melted. It was very strange cheese.

So, don’t get the grilled cheese. If you eat meat, Henry ordered BOTH the burger AND weiner and said they both good.

BUT YO.

THE ONION RINGS.

Wooooooo baby. Those were some of the BEST onion rings I’ve ever had. Also, note that I am super picky re: onion rings and onions in general. I hate when the onion is still practically raw and crunchy, and I also hate when you bite into it and the entire strand of onion is pulled out.

This was the PERFECT medium – not raw, but just crisp enough that one bite would sever the onion AND it didn’t have that slimy worm feel to it. I was so happy with these onion rings, but my stomach was NOT. Even without indulging in a root beer float, I still ended up down for the count and actually thought I was going to have to throw up before we even left the place. My bitch baby stomach just cannot handle anything greater than peanut butter toast these days, it’s so pathetic.

I did not end up puking, you’ll be pleased to know, and was able to last long enough at the table to BUY A FROSTOP SHIRT. The last 5 or so years, I have been in my commemorative diner/restaurant t-shirt or mug era. It’s so random and Henry doesn’t even hesitate anymore when I say, “I have to get a shirt.”

So, I now happily own a Frostop shirt just like the ones the employees wear!

“Aren’t you excited to inherit all of my diner and fastfood t-shirts when I die?” I asked Chooch.

“Yeah, I am so excited. I can’t wait,” he said in a monotone slick with onion ring grease.

“And my haunted house journals!” I added gleefully.

“I’m excited to burn those,” he said.

WOW.

And that was our memorable time at Frostop. SHOULD I TRY TO VISIT ALL OF THEM NOW?!

This part of Saturday night was frustrating. I had a plan and as per usual Henry decided to wipe his ass with it and go rogue. We were supposed to go to Portland after Funtown, have dinner, look at the lighthouse, do fun and cool city stuff. But Henry was like WE WILL INSTEAD GO TO THAT BEACH PLACE YOU MENTIONED and like, yeah, I mentioned it but that was for Sunday night?! When it would probably be less crowded?

So, we get there and it’s crowded (surprise) and Henry was being so annoying about parking. I lost it and cried, “JUST FORGET IT, LET’S JUST GO TO THE AIRBNB” and he was like “AT 7:OOPM?? AND THEN JUST STAY THERE?!” because it was in the middle of nowhere with stuff to do. So then after he started to head toward that way, I was like FINE JUST GO BACK and so we did but it was annoying and crowded and honestly, I just didn’t like the vibes.

The actual area is called Old Orchard Beach, btw, and it is NO WILDWOOD, NJ, that I will tell you. I was hoping for Big Beach Energy but it wasn’t that. It felt like a county fair, but put it next to the beach.

We didn’t spend much time here. We had three coaster creds to scoop up – Henry opted out because we had to pay per ride and he is El Cheapo.

Thrilled.

This Orient Express was actually kind of forceful!?

I don’t know why Henry took so many pictures.

And a video:

Then we rode an SBF Visa Spinner. It was fine. Didn’t spin much and you can tell we are just so excited to be there riding a coaster model we’ve ridden 87 times.

This place was very crowded. It was like the Jersey Shore but with Maine accents and lots of French-Canadian tourists.

The main attraction was SEA VIPER:

I really enjoyed this! It was wild and not nearly as uncomfortable or janky as I had it pegged to be by scoping it out from line. And for one-train ops, the wait actually wasn’t that bad – maybe 25 minutes?

I loved this flat ride the most though!! YOU CAN TELL, BECAUSE I AM ACTUALLY SMILING!

Then we also did a realllllly lame funhouse (sorry, but Europe spoiled us with funhouses!!) and then walked down some pier thing with restaurants that had no food for vegetarians, and then we got coffee from some old woman at a snack counter. She was nice. The coffee was OK.

God, I was in such a foul mood though. I was hungry but not, I was sad but angry, I was tired but bored. Nothing was making me happy. I actually flipped out right after Henry took this picture because people were walking by and I was like HURRY UP AND TAKE THE PICTURE and then I decided NEVER MIND JUST FORGET IT and I walked away while Chooch was still sitting there, like, “I thought you wanted a picture here…?” and YOU KNOW WHAT, I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT I WANTED.

So then we left and started to make our way to the airbnb in Westbrook, Maine which was about 20 minutes away and I cried in the passenger seat while occasionally snarling shitty remarks at Henry in the stylings of Teenage Girl Possessed by the Devil, because that is just what I do now. Where is my Olympic gold for being the GOAT at crying on the spot while verbally eviscerating Henry. This bitch can multi-task.

OH I WAS ALSO PISSED BECAUSE MY BLOG WAS BROKEN AND I WAS TRYING TO LIVE BLOG AND WHY IS EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE BREAKING/DYING/LEAVING/ETC.

Look at these beautiful memories I’ve been making this summer.

We’re officially home from the weekend road trip and somehow it feels like we were gone for way longer than 48 hours and also my right thumb feels like it’s injured suddenly so that’s a fun thing that I will need to investigate further.

Not much happened yesterday aside from a brief visit to Hershey Park which I guess I will recap later although not too much to report on there.

However, afterward we stopped at The Soda Jerk for dinner. We ate here a few years ago too and if I recall / I think / we all kind of liked it / etc. etc. Dinner at Soda Jerks.

I’m delirious.

Anyway, when we walked in, Henry asked me if I wanted a booth and I said yes of course duh booth of gtfo what kind of question even is that.

So then the hostess came over and he WHISPERED about wanting a booth, literally WHISPERED, and then seemed shocked when she slapped down the menus at a table.

I was so annoyed and Chooch was too out of principle so then Henry started getting all defensive about how we’re perfectly capable of asking for a booth and I said, “You literally said you were going to ask! Then don’t say you’re going to ask and turn it around on us!” And it turned into a thing so he angrily shot up from the table and stormed off to find someone to ask if we could move to a booth and then they made Chooch and I even more disgusted because we hate when he acts like a tough guy who has to do everything. Like bitch please do you know how hard our roles are as “the cute pampered entitled ones of the family”?? It is annoying when we have to ask for things that should always be done automatically!!

Anyway, we got to move to a booth. Here is Henry trying to act mad still:

I tired to move his placement over to Chooch’s side but then Chooch moved it back while Henry tried to play off the fact that no one in his party desired to sit next to him.

This National Geographic tshirt was a whole ordeal. I haven’t gotten to this in my Korea recaps yet but this (and Kodak?!) are trending and the clothes etc are $$$. I couldn’t believe it?! I bought him this shirt after being worn down by his whining because it was the only thing under $100 really. Ridiculous. I was like, “Please don’t get ketchup on your shirt.”

SIDE NOTE: They don’t use Heinz at The Soda Jerk??

SECOND SIDE NOTE: This is how Chooch has looked at both Henry and me for the last…13 years probably. OK, 16.

Chooch was excited because they had blackberry lemonade, as evidenced by the white sticker stuck to the beverage section of the menu, boasting “blackberry lemonade / strawberry lemonade” in actually very neat handwriting, so props to Soda Jerk for taking pride in penmanship. This is a lost art in some eating establishments which you will understand within the first 30 seconds of walking down our very own Brookline Blvd.

But when he ordered it, our server – who displayed the exact opposite levels of attentiveness and friendliness as NAT from MONSTER VEGAN and appeared to be looking off into the distance for her boyfriend to roll up on his hog to rescue her from this GREASE PIT – came back and reported that they were OUT OF BLACKBERRY LEMONADE. Chooch, crestfallen, said, “Oh…how about the strawberry lemonade then?”

This resulted in a slight huff from this young lady who now hated us and she said, “I DON’T KNOW LET ME CHECK” and walked the whole whopping ten feet back to the counter where she hollered down to another server, “DO WE HAVE STRAWBERRY LEMONADE??” and we heard a disembodied voice call back, “Yes, and we have blackberry too!”

Chooch and I exchanged a look, and then a glass of blackberry lemonade was set down in front of him a few moments later. “I lied, we did have blackberry lemonade” and then she flitted away without also giving me my coffee, which is ALL I HAD WANTED FOR HOURS UPON HOURS as noted by all who walked near me in Hershey Park as I whined about needing coffee and how it was rendering me incapable of walking in a straight line.

Meanwhile, Henry had just returned from lala land. “What flavor is that, raspberry?” Henry asked as Chooch complained about how his lemonade didn’t even taste like blackberry. And then after Chooch said “blackberry,” Henry goes, “I thought they didn’t have blackberry?”

In unison, Chooch and I groaned our patented teenage “Oh my god.” Literally, Henry is always four chapters behind. So unaware!!

Next thing we knew, our food was here, and my coffee still was not.

She asked if she could bring us anything else, and I asked, “Could I also have coffee?” not wanting to make her feel dumb for forgetting it, you know? So instead, I’ll just….reorder it. Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe her pet turtle died. Maybe her boyfriend was not going to show up for her on his bitchin’ hog because he dumped her the night before. My tactic in life lately is to be an anti-Karen. For instance, my neighbor was outside bitching to another neighbor about me feeding the squirrels so instead of going out there and escalating it because when I tell you that I am stressed to the point where a neighbor confrontation MIGHT cause me to have a heart attack – well, it might be a slight exaggeration but I did have chest pains earlier today, so – I went outside and said, “HI HOW ARE YOU I HAVEN’T TALKED TO YOU IN A WHILE” and then not only did this remind her that I am a human being, but we both had a chance to bitch about our shared nemesis – the landlord.

“Sorry about that, ma’am,” she said in her monotone (which also had a slight twang, curious for Pennsylvania) and slipped away to retrieve it. And then, “Sorry again, ma’am,” as she set it down in front of me.

“I hate that she keeps calling me ma’am,” I said sadly, really driving in the nail of a weekend full of reminders that I’m a fucking old ass bitch with a kid on his way to college. I hated this weekend. I mean, it was fun, but with an underlying, foreboding sense of mortality.

Dude, I will say this was a great grilled cheese though. The rye bread was pretty substantial. Not as rye-full as I would have liked but there is nothing worse than going to a restaurant and getting served a flat-AF grilled cheese on white bread that looks like two abnormally-shaped Wonder slices that were stepped on first.

“She never brought my coleslaw,” Henry muttered, probably knowing that we wouldn’t care but I had to laugh because our server was SO QUICK to solemnly point out, “Coleslaw’s gonna be extra then,” when he also asked for fries. He said that was FINE but maybe she was just trying to save him monies.

When she came back to half-assedly check on us and ask if we needed anything, Henry barked, “Coleslaw.”

Literally, just “coleslaw” nothing else, Chooch and I were dead.

“SHE HATES US SO MUCH,” he cried and Henry, with a twitch of his mustache, said, “I DON’T REALLY CARE,  I ORDERED COLE SLAW AND I WANT IT.”

Wow, calm down, Sergeant Side Dish.

Anyway, she brought him his coleslaw and then practically ran away. Chooch and I were wheezing because she had coleslaw hanging over the side of the bowl, like she just slopped it there with her bare hands. I wished she had dumped it on his head, but alas, no vinegar-y highlights were administered on this day.

I think my favorite part was when Chooch watched her set an empty pitcher under the beverage thing, hit the water button, and then walk away.

“No way is she coming back in time for that,” Chooch said, and then all three of us were transformed into water-pouring spectators. It was exciting! We were downright giddy over it. From my vantage, I couldn’t see our waitress but Chooch said she was fully out of sight, definitely not making it back in time.

It was JUST ABOUT TO SPILL OVER when the hostess came in from around the corner, started to walk past it, but then backtracked and turned it off RIGHT BEFORE IT OVERFLOWED. “Were you guys watching this?” she asked, totally busting us. Chooch and I guiltily nodded (Henry was probably still trying to figure out what we were looking at) and then she started cracking up. “Oh, this happens all the time!” she said, trying to play it off. “Good thing there’s this grate under it!”

And we were like, “Yeah, hahaha.”

o.O

Henry was in such a hurry to get out of here, but I was like, “WAIT! I need a t-shirt!” Because as you know, collecting t-shirts from stupid restaurants we eat at while on road trips is my new “magnet collection.”

“Jesus Christ,” Henry started bitching under his breath immediately when I cried, “PINK, SMALL!” and then I resumed paparazzi stance because our server was due to come bursting out of the kitchen with a plate of mistakes at any minute.

“Oh my god, you are SUCH a creep,” Chooch scoffed, but I know one day when we’re telling his kids about this at Christmas, at Trudy’s feet (that’s where I picture Future Grandma Erin telling stories to her Future Grandchooches, one of whom is always a squirrel in my imagination) he’ll be happy to have photo exhibits to go along with these tales.

Also, the lady in the bandanna tunic is the one who busted us watching for a water pitcher foul.

The back of my new shirt LOLOL.

Also, I tried to get Henry and Chooch to pose for a deranged selfie in front of the diner’s mirrored facade, but they both said, “Fuck no,” and ran to the car.

There were people sitting right on the other and Henry was like, “THOSE PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO EAT, CAN YOU NOT!?”

:)

And that’s all. Then we continued our drive home. Got in around 9PM.

Every so often*, I go through some boxes of old photos, always on the hunt for ones that I want to frame, post on here, share with family, rub in Chooch’s face (he hate hate hates my storied childhood, lol). I recently found this one of my aunt Sharon, me, and my Pappap posing in front of the Leaning Tower of Pisa back in 1989 and I knew I had to keep it out of the box because Henry and I were recently watching someone’s travel vlog in Pisa and I was questioning whether or not I ever went INSIDE the tower because when I googled, it appears that it’s been closed to the public for quiet some time.

*(Approx. 3x a week, honestly lol.)

So today I was inspired to dig out the ol’ vacation journal and see what 10-year-old me wrote (IN YELLOW INK, APPARENTLY) about this moment of my life, and it appears that YES, I did go inside the tower, phew, now I have something else to rub in Chooch’s face.

Anyway, here’s a little transcription of the super informative words I wrote on August 30, 1989. :/

TODAY IS GRANDMA’S BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and a google more. We went to breakfast and now we’re on the bus going to Pisa. We saw the Leaning Tower of Pisa after lunch. Me and Sharon walked up to the top. Well, not the very top. (Sharon was afraid to.) Then we finally ate lunch! Thank goodness (for Chef Boyardee). We ate at the turnpike.  Then we went to the hotel. It’s called the Hotel Cavalieri. Then we ate dinner with the tour. It was like a buffet. It was very good. I didn’t like desert [sic]. Then we went to Pappap’s room & sang happy birthday to grandma and had a mixed fruit strudel (fig newton almost). Then we went to bed.

WOW. I FEEL LIKE I WAS THERE ALL OVER AGAIN, DON’T YOU?? Drowning in detail over here.

Some thoughts:

1. I prob thought I was tres cool for using the word “google.” I wonder if I had just learned it from Highlights.
2. All of those exclamations were done in BUBBLE-STYLE, thank you very much.
3. So…did we eat two lunches?
4. I think by “turnpike” I meant that we ate at one of the really cool truck stop restaurants but I can’t think of the name now. Sharon used to love those places because if you bought whatever the “special” was, it came with a collectors plate.
   • LIKE THIS ONE.
     • According to that post, the highway restaurants were called AUTOGRILL
5. Can you imagine Little Orphan Chunkie up there in that photo not liking a dessert?? What was it, dirty prunes?
6. The Chef Boyardee shoutout, I probably was cracking up writing that. OK calm down Erin.
   • as if I don’t still crack myself up when I’m blogging, once a loser…etc.
7. August 30th and I wasn’t in school?? This must have been back in the good ol’ days when school didn’t start until after Labor Day.
8. WHAT ELSE DID WE DO IN PISA, ERIN?? I feel like we were there for a few hours. I have a vague memory of walking down a road full of locals shilling their wares and trying desperately (and succeeding a lot) to swindle tourists. I think I bought a coin purse?! Who the fuck knows, ugh.
9. All joking aside, revisiting these days of my youth seriously brings me so much joy. I really miss my Pappap, and my grandma and Sharon even though they were often, um, pretty cruel and emotionally damaging to me. Ha ha haaaaaaaa. Ha. :/

I want to try and do this more often: post an old travel picture, find the corresponding vacation journal entry, and then see if I can remember anything else to add. Obsessed with documenting memories? Join my support group. It’s currently just me sitting in pile of journals and photos, wet with tears. If you bring donuts, I’ll brew the coffee.

Here is where I eat crow –

(except not this crow)

(wait, I’m a vegetarian, so not ANY crow)

(WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE EATING CROW??)

– the hotel that I threw a fit over actually ended up being….pretty OK. Like, the room was big and modern shockingly, and the shower was very clean and nice, and it had a cute balcony that overlooked the Pigeon Stream or something, I forget what it’s called. It was literally babbling like they say in the fairy tales or whatever. Very quaint.

Lookit!

Here’s what it looked like from the street when we were en route to get our Gatlin’ on.

1. It was like 40 degrees but would Chooch wear pants and at the very least a hoodie? Obviously not.
2. I fucking swear to god Henry as an array of flannels but this is the only one he hadn’t vacuum-packed last spring and keeps re-wearing it because he can’t be bothered to deflate his winter clothes. Sigh.

Pretending he doesn’t belong to us.

GUYS. Guys guys guys guys. There was only really ONE THING I wanted to do while we were in Gatlinburg and that was revisit the Mysterious Mansion. Chooch and I went through the last time we were there in 2018 and it was SO GOOD that I think about it every Halloween season because I wish so badly we had something like this in Pittsburgh.

Aerial views while waiting in the foyer.

The ticket lady made us wait for “five minutes” to see if anyone dared to join us. A group of ladies and their annoying preteen girls approached at one point and one of the moms came in to ask questions. She went back outside and relied whatever info she had gleaned and it turned into a dramatic tug of war because wahhh, the girls were too scared, etc etc. They lingered outside the house for a good while and the ticket lady called out from her window-nook, “Let’s just wait a minute and see what these people are going to do.”

Finally, they retreated and I was tres relieved (lol, I used to say everything was tres this and tres that in middle school for no good reason other than I probably learned it from Sassy). As the lady was finally reading us the rules and letting go through the turnstile into the formal waiting room, two guys showed up and also bought tickets. I was pissed at first until they joined us and I realized that they were adults, maybe young 30s, and as Chooch said, kind of like my brother Corey. They ended up being great companions for our tour through this fucked up house, which requires lots of hands-on action, searching for hidden doors, etc.

I won’t give anything away because there is one thing that this place does that is different from any other haunt I’ve been to and it’s FUCKING JARRING, but for a haunt to have only 2 or 3 scare actors yet still make grown men jump is a true fucking feat. I just want to give a shout out to the Ringu-esque girl and the clown for being the real MVPs, and when I say that clowns usually don’t scare me…

DAMN this one got me GOOD. Like, 87 times. And then I think I imprinted on him.

“Do you think he thought I was pretty??” I breathlessly asked Henry after we left the house, with the clown leering at us from the exit.

“Sure, Erin,” Henry sighed.

:(

Things I didn’t take pictures of:

• Walking to the main drag of Gatlinburg where Henry gave Chooch $40 to buzz off into an arcade while we did a cider tasting at the Tennessee Cider Company (I think this was the name?). Dude. I cannot hold any sort of alcohol anymore, which is perfectly fine with me because I truly don’t care that much about drinking, but after the second sampling, everything just tasted like lighter fluid to me, even though I am first and foremost a cider gal. Not to be a HIPSTER about it, but I was totally drinking cider (Strongbow for life) before it became trendy and…everywhere. Anyway, we had a hysterical cider-slinger assisting us and two other couples. We snagged 6 bottles (3 for gifts, three for us) and everyone who bought at least 2 got a free bottle of peanut butter cider and um, I can see why they were giving it away. Everything we sampled was delicious, but this tasted like smelling a scratch-n-sniff sticker while drinking…blank alcohol. Do not recommend. I honestly preferred the OG plain-ass apple flavor.
• Then, Chooch popped into and was like, “Oh cool, you’re still here getting drunk anyway here are the pointless things I won at the arcade also I lost $20.” This got Henry’s attention. “You’re kidding,” he said. “Nope. I have no idea how it fell out of my pocket. It’s because I left my wallet at the hotel.” Then Henry called him an asshole really loud (not that loud, actually, but he did use his “I’m kind of in a loud bar environment and want to make damn sure my son knows he’s being called an asshole” voice-volume. Then Chooch asked for the key to the hotel now that he had “no money and nothing else to do” and the skulked away. “Wow,” I said. “He’s way more honest than I was at that age. I never would have admitted to losing cash! I would have been like, ‘Hi here I am, back with these two prizes that cost $40 at the arcade!'” I mean, even if he hadn’t lost the $20, he still would have lost the $20 in the games.
• Then we walked the rest of the side of the road we were on. It was SO FUCKING CROWDED. You couldn’t get near the bar in the moonshine tasting places, and the line to ride the cable car had half a block’s worth of sidewalk congested to the point where we had to keep stepping into the street. This was not how I remembered it last time we were there, which was also the weekend after Thanksgiving!

New location: other side of the street.

Christmas dogs!

The best parts of Gatlinburg IMO are the little squares tucked away from the main drag. They’re these adorable little courtyards with fountains and specialty shops away from all the MAGA SWAG and MOONSHINE and RIPLEYS BELIEVE IT OR WHO GIVES A FUCK. (Honestly, how much stake does Ripleys have in Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge??) One of the courtyards had a place called FRIAR’S DONUTS and it called to me. Not so much because I was craving a donut (although I could use a sweet carb to sponge up the cider in my gut) but because FRIAR and I saw from the doorway that they had MERCH.

“Oh, I KNEW IT. We have to go inside because I want a magnet!” I cried. “But you have to buy a donut too because then it just looks weird if we only buy a magnet.” This was one of the few times Henry didn’t question my logic because MMMMM, ME EAT DONUT NOW!!!!!! MMMM!

This guy looked so much like Henry’s son’s Blake’s BFF Artie, who also is one of Henry’s drivers at the Faygo Factory! He calls Henry to chat way more than any of Henry’s actual sons, which is hilar to me

A FRIAR AND HIS DONUTS.

We split a glazed and it was CLASSIC tasting. Like, it tasted like a donut my Pappap probably ate at Mr. Donut in the 70s with his drywall employees. Do you know what I mean? Like a genuine donut that knows its role and isn’t trying to be something it’s not. I would go back for more donuts next time we’re in town, for sure, and actually – was this open Sunday morning because I would have preferred another glazed over the meh hotel breakfast we had…

Although I was purposely having a meh breakfast because I was saving myself for the DOLLYWOOD CINNAMON BREAD LATER THAT DAY. More on that later, but I might need to take a break here for a second and stare at the ceiling with my tongue drooping out the side of my mouth as I recall the flavor fiesta in my mouth….

Taffy puller lost in thought.

We also bought some delicious cookies from a very friendly pregnant lady at some cookie place and an assortment of moonshine chocolate from a super bored young guy who was 100% wasn’t trying to make a sale in an empty store in the corner of the FRIAR’S DONUTS courtyard. I thought we were just going in to sample them but Henry was like OH TWIST MY ARM, WHY DON’T YOU and bought a box of 10 and I mean, they were fine but not $20-some worth of fine.

We walked back to the hotel on a much quieter back street, collected Chooch, and set off to do a mountain coaster but all of them were like SO CROWDED that you could barely even pull into the parking lots, so instead we went to a gas station to get beverages (Henry got some smirnoff mixed drink thing in a can and I was like WHO ARE YOU) and then we went back to the hotel, watched Friends as is our hotel routine no matter what (or Golden Girls!) and then got some rest in preparation for a full day of DOLLYWOOD!

(But yeah, if you ever go to Gatlinburg, do the haunted house!!!! DO NOT DO THE RIPLEYS ONE!!! If you see a haunted attraction on the main strip of Gatlinburg, THAT IS NOT IT. The one you want is on a back street, you have to cross over the creek via a pedestrian bridge, and the haunted house butts up against a hillside. Dude, you gotta go.)

If I was a POSER, I would skip the part of Saturday where we came down from the mountain and went to our hotel in Gatlinburg and the sight of it from the parking lot alone made me throw a fit because IT LOOKED SKETCHY so I cried about how the whole weekend was awful and I just wanted to go home and Henry was like NO and I was like YES and Chooch was like *here we go* and then Henry called my bluff and said FINE and started to “drive home” and we made it as far as Pigeon Forge, past the signs for Dollywood, when I screamed, “PULL OVER, I AM GOING TO FIND MY OWN HOTEL” and Henry was like “OK YOU DO THAT” and Chooch was like *this is gonna be good* and I “found a hotel” in Pigeon Forge and Henry was like, “OK LET’S GO CHECK MOM INTO HER HOTEL” and I was like “OK but before I confirm my reservation, can we please eat lunch.”

And that’s how we ended up at Mellow Mushroom, which is tradition (4x makes it so), and then we all had a big laugh over The Fight while shoveling delicious pizza into our mouths.

And then Chooch told me my smile is just as fake as my voice.

I ALWAYS GET THIS ONE, it’s their mushroom pie and it is delectable. The waiter (super friendly chap in a cowboy hat who Henry originally thought was faking his southern twang but I don’t think so) agreed that it’s the best one.

Pretty uneventful (BUT FILLING AND DELICIOSO) lunch, which was actually welcome considering the stressful morning and high-octane temper tantrum of mine. It was nice to just sit in a booth and speak gently to each other. (Gently? Eh, we were still probably being assholes to each other but probably with more good humor and less vitriol.)

Look, so happy and fed! Hanger squashed. Real smiles! People walking by were laughing because we were laughing and this actually happened another time too, according to Henry. “That lady was laughing because she saw you laughing,” he said, slightly concerned.

After lunch, we went to the Old Mill …. something. Somehow, after two trips to this area, we had never known about this! I just happened to see it from the window when I was still sulking on the way to lunch, after the HOTEL HULLABALOO.

Look how beautiful! Once we crossed the bridge, I immediately recognized a bunch of spots from the In The Loop travel vlogs from Pigeon Forge. Legend and Molly are huge Pigeonheads (that sounded good at the time) so it all started to come back to me.

We checked out a soap shop and instead of getting local soap, Chooch got a mass-produced brand name (Duke Cannon) bar of Pumpkin Spice Latte soap. I mean, you do you, Chooch, I guess.

Metal-working. Other people were taking pictures so I felt like I should too, but then I realized they were taking pictures of their family members who were metal-working with the professionals.

Next, I bought some local jams for Xmas gifts at one of the Old Mill shops. Surprisingly, this area wasn’t too outrageous people-wise for a Saturday afternoon, so we had a pretty pleasant time

We stopped in this alleged cat house but there were only THREE CATS TO BE FOUND. And then just a bunch of cat art and people clothes with cats on them. It was disappointing except for the actual cats we got to see.

Some cafe was next door. I had a pretty good apple cider chai.

By now, I was fed *and* caffeinated so I was feeling even better about life.

This picture actually became very useful a few nights later when we were back home in Pittsburgh and I lurched forward on this couch. “WAIT, WHERE ARE MY JAMS?” I exclaimed.

“……………..um,” Henry stammered.

I ran out to the car to check, we checked our luggage, but NO JAM. NO FUCKING JAM!! I started to think it was my fault. I vaguely remembered setting the bag down when Chooch and I were sitting in those adirondack chairs in the cafe.

But then I was going through my pictures and cried out, “A HA!!!! YOU WERE CARRYING THE BAG AFTER THE CAFE!” So we had to have lost it somewhere between that bridge and our car. There were THREE more shops we went to before leaving: a nut place, a candy place, and a gaming place.

But as soon as I showed Henry this picture, he said, “I set it down in that planter behind Chooch when I took your picture.

Fuck.”

I was already mad at him because he took the stupid picture from the wrong angle (the mill was to the left!!!) so this dumb picture ended up costing me $20 in lost goods.

I know, it’s not A LOT of money, but it’s not….NOT a lot. And it sucks, especially because I bought the jam with the intention of tucking them in gift bags for some friends.

AT LEAST HENRY MADE SURE HIS CANDY SAFELY MADE IT BACK TO PITTSBURGH.

And Chooch’s stupid soap! I should have made him carry my jam too!

Anyway, I can’t remember the name of this game store but the guys working there were FANTASTIC. They treated Chooch like a prince and when he asked for suggestions, one of the was like “WALK WITH ME, M’LAD.” I mean, not in so many words. But yeah, I would recommend this place if you’re in the area and looking for a game to play on a rainy night in your hotel, or whatever!

Oh, and the nut place we went to was full of MAGA shit so I did NOT buy a magnet even though their logo was a bad ass squirrel.

Back to the jam! Henry emailed the jam place on a whim to see if anyone turned in the bag.

“No one would have done that!” I scoffed, because my faith in humanity is at an all-time low. I mean, that’s 100% something I would have done – and been super panicked about it too. “WE HAVE TO GET THIS JAM BACK IN THE RIGHT HANDS!” as I’m darting all around Pigeon Forge like Dolly Parton looking for her car in the lot after working 9to5. (Look, that and Steel Magnolias is pretty much as far as my Dolly knowledge goes, but I am sure thankful that she has a theme park!)

“You never know, being the south and all,” Henry reasoned. “It’s worth a shot.”

WOULD YOU BELIEVE that the jam store emailed him and said that they weren’t aware of any misplaced jams being returned, but they would check with the managers of the other stores in the square AND ONE OF THE STORES CAME BACK AND SAID THAT YES, SOMEONE HAD BROUGHT IT TO THEM!

Ugh I’m so pissed that I didn’t realize it was missing while we were still there. BUT they were kind enough to issue me a refund (they also offered the option of shipping it to me but I didn’t feel like dealing with that). Whoever returned this is a true hero.

I mean OK it wasn’t like it was my WEDDING BAND (you can’t lose something you don’t have, lol) or my prosthetic thumb, but it was still a small weight off my shoulders.  I don’t have enough money for “It’s only money” to apply to me.

I did not thank Henry for getting me a refund because this was all his fault in the first place, so…

Anyway, after we left the gaming place, it was time to go back to Gatlinburg and check in.

“Don’t we have to drop Mum off at her hotel first?” Chooch deadpanned from the backseat.

Sigh.

I forgot that we brought “the good camera” to Florida with us last April because literally time it was used was the last day when we went to the Fountain of Youth. I was being lazy and didn’t feel like carrying it so Henry ended up sort of using it. Here are some pictures he took, which I didn’t know existed until I was using the camera on Sunday at the pie party and saw them when I was scrolling through the pictures. I know it was forever ago that we were there, but I wanted to post some anyway because it was such a fun trip and I still think about it a lot. Traveling with Henry and Chooch keeps getting better the older we all get even though we still HAVE OUR MOMENTS of cattiness, ha.

Speaking of getting older, one thing that I appreciate so much more now that I’m nearly middle-aged (am I already middle-aged??) is plants! I never would have given a shit about Florida’s vegetation back in the day but now that I’m a houseplant hoe bag, I had to run my fingers along every plant that I passed. I loved these ones and I have several similar plants in my house! Of course, they’re tough for me to keep happy since they’re tropical-y.  I was happy when I discovered these pictures on the camera and saw that  Henry took one of these!

There were all kind of crab-things in that water and it was creeping me out, bigly.

That bruise on my calf! What a temporary memento of all the insane coasters we rode on this trip.

The fact that we paid like $20pp or something to enter this sulfur water tourist trap and spent most of the time fucking around with the peacocks, pigeons, and squirrels is very on brand with the Appledale clan.

WHOA. AMAZING. 5 STARS.

***

We don’t have any road trips set in stone until Thanksgiving, so I will be occupying my mind with haunted house-hopping and counting down to  the NCT127 show in Newark (doesn’t count as a “fun road trip” because the drive to Newark, and Newark itself, is never fun).

I love fall so so so much but a bitch is depressed that summer is over, sitting here shivering in leggings and a hoodie. :( I was just going to whine about how I haven’t ridden a rolleroaster in x-amount of time, but then I realized it was literally less than a week ago, lol. STILL.

(As I was writing this I had no idea that St Augustine was affected by Hurricane Ian. I hope everyone is ok!)