Our destination was Applecrest Farm Orchards in Hampton Falls. On the way there, we read ghost stories from a very silly book that Ashley had picked up in the library. Thankfully, she had a good sense of humor about it (Corb seems to bring that out in her), and we were in hysterics imitating certain scenes from the book the entire day, particularly one story where the ghost--a Civil War schoolteacher who liked to dressed up in men's clothing floated through the classroom shrieking "Where are my students? Where is my classroom?" That became our battle cry.
After picking a half bushel of apples, we went over to the main farm area to fill our faces, then got back on to Route One and traveled to Portsmouth to fill them some more, at a place called The Friendly Toast . I used the word "kitsch" way too many times for Joyce's tastes, but it really was exactly that, with all sorts of tacky things hanging from the wall, including a naked plastic ass, a demented devil shoe, a big orange airplane, and an oil portrait of a man with a tie set right next to an oil portrait of a cat in the exact same pose. The wallpaper was just lovely, filled with lurid titles from sex films from the 60s and early 70s, things like Sophie's Shame, Hush Hush Sweet Harlot, Sex Charlatan, and Honey at her Lips .
The website describes the restaurant as such:
"This could be Carman's Country Kitchen's (Philadelphia) sister restaurant. Kindred spirit. Kindred menu. Kindred servers. In fact it was Carman who told me about this place. I was there for breakfast. Great menu. Almond Joy Cakes, Huevos Rancheros, Green Eggs and Ham, Greek Scramble, and a few daily specials like a waffle filled with poppy seeds and topped with mangos, kiwi and lemon whipped cream or a french omelette of asparagus, brie, cilantro and squeezed lemon. Sounds like Carman to me."
I don't if the meal quite lived up to the atmosphere. I guess you'd expect a lot of kinetic energy on the menu at such a place, but the waiter (who reminded me of Austin Powers without the teeth) started things off by saying that they "didn't have milk, or french fries, or potato chips," or half a dozen other things that night. Thankfully for me, they did discover that they had fries (otherwise the kids would have revolted). Still, my meal was just a bit too heavy. Kielbasa and spicy mashed potatoes and eggs and peppers wrapped up in a burrito goes a looooong way in a short amount of time.
On the way home, more ghost stories, and a lot of laughter. I brought my sound effect tapes and we had a blast calling people and using the vomit sound effect. Corb's mother was seriously worried.
Today was mostly spent with the kids. I did get some writing done, too, although today was one of those "Am I really cut out for this" kind of days. Still, I was comforted by a quote from Graham Greene today, who was once asked why he became a writer and responded, "there seemed nothing else to do...It has become a habit and it's too late to change now." I have acquired Greene's habit, but alas, none of his talent, although I can strive, I suppose, for his work ethic: seven to nine hundred words a day, which he'd craft between the hours of seven and nine in the morning.