Sythyry (sythyry) wrote,

Vacation, part 1; metafori

Our first stop was at Chez metafori</lj>, and her husband, in the house where a good friend (whose LJname reminds me might not want his LJ name used) was raised. The friend's not here, being busy with exciting life things in a distant place. We hadn't met metafori</lj>before, or not exactly -- we had heard her in concert once or twice -- but we read each others' journals, and I guess we'd been a positive force in her child's life here and there.
Anyways, we've had two splendid days in Lake George. Let's see.
Neptune Diner: Just a random stop on the road, but it was such a diner, absolutely traditional in all respects. Tasty, too.
Goony Golf: Rhys has been into miniature golf lately. I believe that he would have happily accepted the three-hour drive here just to play miniature golf. Goony Golf's motto is "We're the gooniest!". This is not a boast; it is simply truth in advertising. They are exceptionally goony, with their awkward concrete Alice in Wonderland figures, bears, pirates, giant mushrooms, gigantic t-rexes, octopi, snakes, haunted houses with rotating ghosts, giant candies, and so on. Rhys had a great fun, though "The spinning hole was very hard."
Meeting Metafori and husband: They were sweet and charming and fun. We chatted Tarot, folk music, and childraising, among other things, and ate a delicious barbeque, and simmered in their new and wonderful spa/hot tub, and Metafori got a bit of surrogate grandmothering. Perhaps this will relieve the pressure on her child to provide grandchildren quickly, or perhaps it will exacerbate it; even Metafori doesn't know.
The next day, after bagels and scones on the porch... Oh, and treat #1 (some chocolate milk) and #2 (some full-concentration juice) for Rhys
Minne-Ha-Ha Steamboat; (and by steamboat, I mean steamboat) on Lake George. It's a realio trulio steamboat, with a pair of chimneys that alternate puffs of steam that condenses and rains down on the stern of the boat, and a steam-powered whistle that does the same for the bow, and, naturally, a steam calliope. Rhys insisted on sitting on all three decks, both sides. We watched parasailers and half a dozen kinds of more mundane (um, marine) crafts, and enjoyed.
Treat #3: an orange-flavored candy stick
Adequate Carolina Barbeque; The Adequate Carolina Barbeque restaurant (real name forgotten) was adequate barbeque, and, anomalously, staffed entirely by Russians.
Pirate's Cove Miniature Golf; Rhys asked for more golf, so we played Pirate's Cove, It's a fairly cute pirate-themed golf course, with nice easy golf splerns (or whatever they're called), pirates dangling from the trees, spooky murderous dioramas, and astounding blue water -- like, fearsomely blue. Quite pretty.
Candlemaking; Of the sort where you fill up a mold with chopped wax, and pour clear wax over it. Well-enjoyed.
Treat #4; a bowl of ice cream for Rhys. Vicki and I, more used to hot weather, got snocones and slushies instead. Rhys abandoned the ice cream and mooched from us.
Metafori Feast #2; Another delicious barbeque by Metafori and her husband, with a couple of their friends whose names I have forgotten. Treat #5 for Rhys; another undiluted juice box with dinner.
Treat #6 and #7: Rhys got a slice of cappucino chocolate cake and a slice of blueberry pie.
Then more rampaging around (for Rhys) and conversation (for the adults), and sloshing around in the hot tub (for everyone). It really is an impressive hot tub. Like, it's got constantly-changing colored lights in it, plus an endless variety of bubbles and jets and spouts. And bats flying overhead. Nothing says luxury like bats flying overhead. (Really -- I love to watch bats (though Rhys was more into the colored lights) and they ate the mosquitoes, too. Also, bats overhead means that you are outdoors at twilight in a nice part of the world.)
Metafori and husband have been quite wonderful and generous hosts. I hope we can tempt them downstate to us, or some such.
And, since I am the only one awake in the house now, I'm going to go get a lot less awake.
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