We have returned from the wilds of Virginia! And Pennsylvania! And teeny bits of West Virginia and Maryland! After an creamy, buttery, sensational Thanksgiving feast provided by Katr's uncle, Katr and I drove back up to Canada to discover that our lovely and talented fish-sitter, Kism, had not only kept our fish alive and well, but had also apparently taught them to write messages of greeting on our white board. It was a joyous homecoming, let me tell you. These fish are going to make us RICH!!
Things I Enjoyed About Our Trip to the U.S. for Thanksgiving
Giant Inflatable Lawn Turkeys in Pilgrim Hats
We do not have these in Canada. And as you can see, we are MISSING OUT. Now that I've learned that our condo corporation cannot actually fine us for condo bylaw violations, I'm thinking of getting one of these babies to inflate and stick out our 9th floor window next year. And then we could podcast recordings of the angry messages we get from the Board.
Dunkin' Donuts
Some of you (probably those of you who've seen me perform my Krispy Kreme donut sex fetish piece, The Dirty Dozen) are under the impression that Krispy Kreme are my favourite donuts. This, in a sense, is true: Krispy Kreme donuts would be my favourite kind of donuts to RUB on myself. But when I want to EAT donuts, I hit the Double D. After a hard day of operating our car using only the power of my mind, nothing hits the spot like a coconut creme donut. Or four. I've heard reports extolling the virtues of the DD's coffee as well, but to be honest, I find their coffee pretty hit or miss. But when it hits, it hits HARD. And donuts - sweet, sweet donuts - they soften the blow.
I know we have (or had) Dunkin' Donuts in Canada, because I remember seeing them in Montreal years ago. But I find myself in Montreal even less frequently than I find myself in the States, so when I'm there, I really try to capitalize on DD opportunities. Unfortunately, Katr's mom, who did much of the driving on our trip to Virginia, didn't take me seriously when I crowed "Dunkin' Donuts!!" from the backseat of her car whenever we passed a rest stop. She'd sort of chuckle, then keep on driving, but every now and then I'd catch her looking at me quizzically in the rearview mirror. I imagined her thinking "Not only did my daughter turn out to be a lesbian, but her "friend" has "special needs"." She's a very brave woman.
I Can Pretend I Have an Accent
The minute we cross the border, I start droppin' the g's off the ends of mah werds. I develop the kind of accent that makes "ice" sound like "ass". I occasionally address customer service representatives as "darlin'" and I seriously consider menu items ("ahtims") that include grits. "Y'all" comes pretty natural, but my "yonder" needs work.
The thing is, I don't do this on purpose. It's like I get down there and I just cain't help mahself. I wonder if it's just my subconscious lesbian way of trying to fit in in Smalltown America. Also, I know that if I talk like that up here in Canada, everyone knows I'm probably faking. If I talk like that down there, they just feel sorry for Katr's "special" sister.
The Michie Tavern
Unlike Thomas Jefferson's home, Monticello, at the historic Michie Tavern, you can touch stuff. Including the serving wenches. Ours was a cheerful young lass named Tiffany, a moniker I'm sure was popular when the tavern opened in the 1780's. She wore traditional costume, including a frilly bonnet and lots of 18th century eye shadow. We started with a buffet lunch at "The Ordinary", a spread which included Thomas Jefferson's favourite black eyed peas, stewed tomatoes, potatoes, bbq pork, rolls, fried chicken and probably the best peach cobbler I've ever had. You could finish off your meal with a tankard of traditional Bud Light, but I stuck to my tin cup of black cherry soda. You know, for the authenticity. Tiffany made sure we never ran out of chicken and tried not to look askance at my "accent".
After lunch, we took the self-guided tour of the tavern and tried on all the hats. As a play that I'm working on takes place in a 19th century tavern, Michie's Tavern was of particular interest to me and it did not disappoint. I took many pictures and though she tried to flee, I managed to catch Katr's mom in some of them. She made me promise I wouldn't post them on the internet, but I never signed anything. HA ha!
Jokes About Deliverance
HAHAHAHAHAaaa! When you're in a rural American wilderness, jokes about Deliverance are funny. Especially when your mother-in-law makes them. Having spent nearly a week in the Blue Ridge Mountains, we determined that one of the nearby counties was, to quote Katr's mom, "a little more Deliverance" than the others. We'd drive through this area and one of us would hum the opening line of "Dueling Banjos" and we'd laugh and laugh. Oh, good times.
The Appalachian Trail
I loved Bill Bryson's hilarious and informative book, A Walk in the Woods, about travelling the 
Appalachian Trail. So when we discovered that the place we were staying was quite close to the AP, Katr and I knew we had to set foot on it. And we did!! And then we got back in the car and drove away in a self-congratulatory manner.
I have fantasies about walking the entire length of the Appalachian Trail, fantasies that even Bryson's horror stories of rain and snow and back-breaking packs couldn't quell. Because they're FANTASIES. In reality, I know that hiking the Appalachian Trail involves camping, so that'll never happen.
I guess the fact is that I don't want to BE a hiker on the AP - I just want to play one on tv. Preferably a hiker with a southern drawl. And a frilly bonnet. And a pack full of donuts. And a giant inflatable lawn turkey tent.
