anybody want a dog

Oh yeah....the damned dog looks innocent in the picture, but she is a pain in the butt.

Twice, yes, twice, she ran away today! Early this morning she was wandering the aisles of the local CVS. Yes, Elliemae, the
whacked-out Tree Walking Coon Hound, was IN THE STORE. Perhaps the old lady was looking for Metamuscil? She may be old, but she's smart, because she knows I give her a cookie everytime I bring her home!
The bitch....

Tonight it happened again. I went out to Washington's Outlook which is on Goat Hill just south of Lambertville to view the Friday night fireworks, and the whole point of this particular blog entry. But, back to that later..................
I got home and looked for the dog to let her out, but she was no where to be found. Now I know she doesn't like the fireworks and when I've been home for them I noticed she cowers in the bathroom. She may not hear very well; she certainly doesn't listen very well; but she must hear the kaboom of the pyrotechnics....the bitch...

Well tonight I failed to lock the back door again and while I spent a glorious evening watching the fireworks display, the bad dog got out again. I couldn't find her in any of her favored sleeping niches. Just as I got home the phone rang and someone was saying they had her down on Main Street. It was a good thing I didn't go out for a bite to eat, or else Elliemae might have been gone forever.... the bitch....

Naw, I couldn't be that lucky. Besides, she knows I have cookies at home.

Anyway, there are three hills in Lambertville. I live on Music Mountain, aptly named for the musical venue that was once here. Then there's Connaught Hill and Cottage Hill. Cottage Hill leads to Goat Hill which is in the next town, West Amwell. On Goat Hill the city of Lambertville gives quickly away to woods and scattered homes. Turn down an aptly named, George Washington Road, and it leads into dense woods that was once a Scout camp and then private property before being presented to New Jersey. It is now parkland and a quick hike up a winding road leads to a promontory overlooking the Delaware and the sister cities, Lambertville and New Hope. When it was private land I would sneak onto the property with Elliemae, the bitch, and hike about... Inevitably she would chase a deer or some sort of animal and I would chase after her and her howling...or is that baying? Whatever....the bitch!

At the crest of this hill I settled my butt on the beach chair I dragged up and watched the hazy night approach. For a good while there was just another person sharing this view with me. He had a long lens digital camera that looked professional. We chatted a bit and then gaped at a sun that slipped from beneath cloud cover before finally setting over the distant rolling Pennsylvania hills. We listened to the gleeful clamor of music from far below as the towns geared up for the evening's fireworks. Eventually the promontory filled up with others awaiting the display, braving the steep, rocky road that wound up the hill.



When the fireworks finally started, all the chattering ceased as people watched the display reverently. Every booming explosion roiled across the valley, echoing in our hearts and pulling the air from our lungs. It was glorious and it was all lower than eye level. From our steep perch we looked down on the barge and the river and the hordes gathered on the bridge. We heard their cheers between the percussive thuds and when it ended everyone on the hill applauded like children. Afterwards people picked their way down the steep road, flashlights flitting the haphazard footfalls. We spoke in hushed tones. This was a special night...




So joyous was this occasion, so filled with pride that my heart swelled with the knowledge this was home, my town, that I didn't mind the dog had gotten loose again. I was home and this was good and Elliemae's trangression was met with a hug and a cookie.

well well well

I have been admonished by my partner in traveling. She has said that I have failed to keep up with the antics of the last weekend in this forum. True, I did not write anything of our time together, which was basically co-habiting in the nether regions of Pennsyltucky. We did celebrate her daughter's 23rd birthday by going on a pub crawl in Phoenixville, home of the movie theater featured in the B horror film, The Blob and hurt ourselves in a mat pilates class on Sunday morning. Sadly I didn't think enough of the weekend to write anything, but she wagged a finger at me and said I was slipping in my devotion to this most necessary blog. How else will our devoted readers learn what is important to see around this area that we live in, and how else will you get ideas to run around on the quick and cheap?

She's correct you know...but she's out galavanting in Hilton Head, South Carolina for a weekend that started on Wednesday. She's partying with her crones from college; there's a summer home down there...and testosterone is not allowed at this party...unless, of course, they all decide to go out to a club sometime. (I hope they don't get hernias trying to pick up guys.)

Anyway, there you have it... we of VFH central are a separate entity this weekend. I'm sure she'll have tales to relate... but right now I'm kicking back and watching the grass grow...and shooting deer with the Red Ryder bb gun if they get too close to my hostas...the evil beasts....

love to all ... except deer and squirrels...

g

a pineapple, a coconut and a lei

Regrettably I was unable to attend this glorious event. The Bruce Wray Memorial Hawaiian Shirt Invitational Competition was held a few weeks ago and FINALLY we at VFH central got a picture to share with all those who follow this blog. You may say that this all old news that the team should have moved on to another subject, like Tiki Bars or tubing on the Delaware, or anything else, but when a competition involves such frightening displays of color and bravery by the souls who wear them, it is our duty to honor them with this picture.

The reason there was such a long delay between the event and this photograph was the judges' ruling about the leopard skin stripes on the one shirt and whether or not this qualified as an Aloha or Hawaiian Shirt. The fellow was finally awarded his lei because the shirt, while stretching the rules, was particularly hideous. The picture was finally released by the BWMHSIC Committee after much quibbling and a number of Mai Tais.

Congratulations to the winners. Somewhere Bruce Wray is sipping his own drink and chuckling lowly.

another reason not to leave Lambertville

My fledgling family moved to Lambertville, New Jersey twenty-one years ago. We moved from northern Jersey to this idyllic river town in 1989 and for the first ten years of our residency in this historic place we lived in a home built circa 1860 and renovated circa 1979. It had thick stone walls, a mansard roof and though the house was too small for a family of four and a crazy tree walking coon hound, it was just across the street from a canal that once was used to transport coal from the Pennsylvania mines to New York City. Since 1999 I've lived on Music Mountain, aptly named for the circus tent venue that once hosted acts and shows. Though the house is modern, it is directly across the street from state protected woods. When I want to walk into town I take a trail though the woods that leads to the heart of Lambertville. Country living in the city.... It is a wonderful place to raise a family and a grand place for the Vacation From Home team.

Go to Zagat and look up the town and you're greeted with numerous choices from Thai, to French, to Italian, to Japanese. There are several cozy, romantic bars like the Swan Hotel and the Boathouse or the Inn of the Hawke, where an afternoon can languidly meander toward evening. One can spend the day strolling the town to marvel at the well kept homes or along the pastoral canal. One can ask for a taste of a River Horse beer, or two, at the brewery. The Delaware River hedges the town and scullers and canoers and fishermen all find a slice of heaven on its waters. I've lived here for 21 years so far and have remained long after my family foundered and dissipated and though conditions in my life have changed I find myself dragging my feet about a move from this town.

Interested in more ribald entertainment? There's always New Hope, Pennsylvania, directly across the river from the quiet of Lambertville. This sister city is a popular destination for all things sketchy. Bikers and gays and tourists descend on the New Hope and it's many loud, obnoxious bars and ply the many candle shops and leather goods stores for the latest in bustiers. Gay pride week is rather popular and though I've never visited New Hope during the annual DRAG RACES, I understand it's a stilletto heel about ready to snap.

The two cities are such a contrast that it's shocking to imagine they can do anything together. But, this summer, they've started Friday Night Fireworks; a perfect destination for your favorite Vacations From Home team. Jointly held by the two cities it brings a lot of people into the towns and we decided to linger this past Friday to view them. The free bridge as well as both riverbanks are crowded with gawkers. The wing dam, south of the bridge about 3/4 of mile had people viewing from there (my son said that's where he was going) and from our perch on the bridge we could see flashlights on the Washington's Outlook on Goat Hill which has a spectacular view of the river and both towns.

Fireworks were set off from a barge in the middle of the river. The night sky was clear and there was a steady breeze from the south that billowed the gunsmoke in our direction. We ooed and aahed with the crowds and we watched honorary members of the VFH team, Janet's daughter and her fiance, embrace throughout the show. He is from England and had never experienced such an American event. We were thrilled to have him.

Yes, Lambertville is a great place to visit and a hard place to leave. If you're ever interested in coming down to see it yourself, the door is always open. I never tire of showing off this happy little place.

The rest of the weekend was spent in the opposite end of the spectrum. With the World Cup starting this weekend the swelled version of the VFH team trundled to the Trappe Tavern, which is near Collegeville, PA, to sit on their outdoor deck to watch England play the USA. A gimme goal sealed the "win" for USA, which actually ended in a draw 1-1. Our honorary international member of VFH, Adam, did not grouse or complain and took all the good natured jibbing well.

who dat?

Some things never change....thankfully.

Your favorite explorers of all endeavors that are cheap or free got a little selfish this past weekend and indulged themselves. The world famous Vacations From Home team made their yearly trek to the Crawfish Festival at the Sussex County Fairgrounds in Augusta, NJ. This is the fifth year for your illustrious team to nibble on all kinds of God's critters, Cajun style, and to dance & boogie to swamp pop and jazz music. This year though was a tough decision. Sadly, the Crawfish festival is not cheap, especially in today's economy. At $40 per person just for the right to enter the grounds which did not cover food and drink, both very very necessary ingredients to the day, the cost was nearly prohibitive and it was a calculated risk. Even if the VFH team were flush with cash, the cost of the day runs counter to its credo to mooch and slouch its way through the summer and to pass on to you fair and wonderful readers of this blog all the sordid details so you may also enjoy on the quick. But, this event this Crawfish Festival now in its 21st year and held the first weekend of June is a must for us and we took a deep breath, counted out our money and then drove to the upper regions of New Jersey. It proved to be the best year.
Truthfully it is worth every penny.

After 5 fesitvals we are already seasoned travelers to this event though we neither camp, nor set up party tents as many other long time visitors. Each year we marvel at these people who spend the weekend and decorate their tents with beads and other trinkets and set up elaborate displays and carry poles adorned with masks and and feather boas, and then happily settle our butts down in lawn chairs near the main stage (and a beer station) to gather in the music and the people festooned in hats and garb as well as a great number of Bruce Wray worthy Aloha shirts. Each year we say we're going to camp, each year we say we're bringing a "posse" (to get a group rate) and each year we roll our eyes and sip our beer.

After we pick our spot we get food. First it's a carton of crawfish boil. Janet had never eaten a crawfish before she started coming here and now she can suck the head and pinch the tail like a regular old coon ass. Then red beans and rice and alligator sausage. We stopped here at this point, though in years past we would eat far too much and we couldn't walk back to the car! But there are other delectable items on the menu: etoufee, crawfish pie, boudin links, oyster po-boys, shrimp creole, beignets and Jambalaya. But, because of the BP oil spill off the Louisiana coast there were no fresh oysters available. Evidently all the crawfish are farm raised and out of harm's way, that is until they get to the boiling pot!

The food is very good. You watch the people cooking the stuff in the back and you think it's just a mix of some sort. Well, a couple of years ago at one of these stands we met the head chef of a restaurant in Lafayette, Louisiana. He was making sure all the Jambalaya was cooking to order. He gave us his card when we told him we were traveling to Louisiana that summer and we had the best meals at Prejean's. We actually drove out of our way on the way back from Lake Charles just so we could eat a lunch there. The food was excellent. If you'd like to read about that particular trip you can always go to http://cajuncountrytravels.blogspot.com/.
That was back in the day when the Vacations From Home team was flush with cash and able to go to exotic locales. The crawfish festival is not exotic, but it is a must event....we just have to figure out how to sneak in next year...
http://www.crawfishfest.com/


After the food and a couple of beers we were ready to shed our dignity. We danced to Jeffery Broussard and the Creole Cowboys at the dance hall. There is a definite way of dancing to cajun music, whether it's a waltz or a two-step and well, we limped and boogied and sweated and laughed at ourselves and then sat and marveled at how beautifully some of the people danced to a band that featured an accordian player with a cowboy hat and a "spoon guy", someone who wears a washboard over his shoulders and strums at it with spoons. Then we bopped over to the Jaegermeister hall to weave precariously to the Dirty Dozen Brass Band and Janet flirted with the Sax player in a feeble ploy to score beads....women....
Evidently they have dance lessons from 11-12. Janet and I say the same thing every year, that we'll get there early enough...then we sip our beers and roll our eyes.

The main act for the day on the main stage was Taj Mahal. I was mildly interested because that's a big name in music, although we really liked Amanda Shaw and the Cute Guys. Shaw plays a mean fiddle, but Taj Mahal didn't hold our interest and we danced a whole lot with the Dirty Dozen Brass Band.

Thanks for reading, hope you put this event on your calender for next year.

If anyone has any suggestions for a VFH sojurn please pass such information on to us... Or if you want to invite us over to your house for dinner, especially if you have a pool or beach house, feel free to consider our names for the guest list. .... that's not mooching...is it?

love,
greg

slower lower

Along the Jersey shore there are various names for the people who visit the 100+ miles of sand and surf. North of Long Beach Island are the Bennys and south are Shoobies. They are derogatory terms whose meanings are steeped in a mysterious history. More than once I've been called a "Benny" while cavorting about in Belmar, in the dark ages before "Jersey Shore". And, I remember offending a colleague from Philadelphia when I playfully called him a "Shoobie". (They take these things much more seriously down there...)

Anyway, if you're interested in reading about the whole Jersey phenom a good website to go to is: http://www.bennygohome.com/questions.html

So, what is a Benny and a Shoobie, traveling together incognito as the world famous Vacation From Home team to do in Slower Lower Delaware? We can't continue our antics so familiar in New Jersey. No longer can I be crass and flash $100 bills around and Janet will have to carry her clothes in a bag and not a Shoebox. It is a difficult adjustment, but Delaware is quite worth the trip, especially if the Fitzcharles clan continues to open their home for visits. You see... mooching is always at the core of all necessary modifications in one's lifestyle! We spent the Memorial Day Weekend down there and will house/dog sit for them in the last week of July.

But what is a visitor to "slower lower" called? We of the Vacation From Home team are not sure, although Janet has said that they are kind of "slow" down there and perhaps can't formulate such thoughts. Evidently there is a raging debate on Facebook as to where slower lower even begins. So heated is this debate there is little room to point fingers at the throngs who descend on the beaches from Broadkill to Bethany and make derisive comments. The name Slower Lower covers a lot of territory. Now we're not being derogatory ourselves; people down there seem to embrace the lifestyle. There's even a website for merchandise. Although you won't catch this Benny wearing USLD (University of Slower Lower Delaware) shirts, there's gotta be someone out there who does. http://www.slowerlowerdelaware.com/

coco-nuts

Well...The better half of the Vacation From Home team was somewhat successful in the Hawaiian shirt competition on Friday and came away with the coconut and second prize. Janet wanted the pineapple though and was accused of canvassing too hard for the award when she forwarded emails about this blog to members of her staff.... That's okay... the shirt was still hideous and Janet is proud of her coconut. She even took it to bed with her, afraid that someone would make a rum drink out of the thing in the middle of the night.

We at Vacation From Home central are actively looking for photographs of the Hawaiian Shirt competition and are hoping some will be sent in to be posted here. Please email to: greg.dunaj@yahoo.com