We have a home in Pennsylvania’s Pocono Mountains and retreat there for the weekend following Christmas. Upon arrival, my kids conduct a stealth mission to find a mangy evergreen in need of a trim. They lop off 2 or 3 feet, scurry home, shove it in a stand and swaddle it in cotton batting in an attempt to keep it upright. We festoon it with a string of lights, some faded construction paper chains, and the handcrafted ornaments the kids made in elementary school – think elbow macaroni glitter-glued to a paper plate. We gather round and “ooh” and “aah” over the Christmas Twig as if it were the one in Rockefeller Center.
“Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet.” – Roger Miller
“Is it empty because it’s Sunday?” my husband asked the museum clerk as we purchased our tickets. “It’s empty ’cause it’s raining. No one goes out in the rain.” Sun-dappled squares full of bubbling fountains and trees dripping with Spanish moss. It’s the image that comes to mind when you think of Savannah, a city made for strolling to best savor the meticulously preserved historic townhomes and manses. So what do you do when it rains?
I needed to execute Plan B on a recent visit due to torrential downpours forecast for the last day of my trip. Don’t despair. There’s plenty to keep you occupied and Southern hospitality takes the edge off limp hair and damp pant hems. Continue reading
If you’re planning to rent a house at the shore this summer, now’s the perfect time to book it. I know it seems ridiculous when you’re baking cookies, wrapping presents, and swilling eggnog, but good houses disappear quickly. If you wait until later in the season, the inventory includes a greater number of mildewed monsters with slugs in the shower. Continue reading
Here’s one from the archives, originally published in 2012. My sentiments regarding holiday travel remain exactly the same since no one’s invented a way to breach the time-space continuum…yet. Happy Thanksgiving!
Black Friday. Small Business Saturday. Cyber Monday. The Sunday of Thanksgiving Weekend lacks a moniker. Let’s try ?#$% Sunday because everyone who visited Grandma’s house hits the highway at exactly the same moment causing monumental traffic jams.