Last weekend, I visited my old neck of the woods once again for Thanksgiving in the Country weekend. Visiting Hunterdon and Bucks counties is always somewhat bittersweet. It reminds me how much I love that area and still miss my little house in Stockton and the farm outside Sergeantsville—and the B&B and dairy goats—that I had with my ex Steve. And how much I miss seeing my friends who live down that way as often as I used to. But I've got no regrets about moving to New York for my job. I love the countryside, but the city is where I'm supposed to be right now.
I kenneled the dogs on Friday and took the bus to Lambertville. When I reached the Port Authority Bus Terminal, I was a little anxious about getting a spot on the bus I'd planned to take, which was going to get into L'ville about 5:30. The terminal was crowded with Yankees fans who'd gone to the parade that day celebrating their "heroes" who'd won ... freedom for all of the oppressed peoples of the world? No. Universal health care for all Americans? No. Four baseball games? Yes! I know, I'm a killjoy cynic. But I just can't understand getting excited about a bunch of millionaires playing a sport in a billion-dollar stadium that's mostly financed by taxpayers, most of whom can't afford to take their family there to see a game.
Anyhow, I needn't have worried. There were plenty of seats on the bus, though the ticket line was a nightmare because a woman in front of me pissed off two different ticket sellers so much that one stormed off (after she called him an "asshole" and a "bastard") and the other looked like she wanted to break through the window and strangle her. This woman insisted that she was always sold a ticket for a particular route that ended up in a place where the ticket sellers said no buses ever went. Or at least no buses went to that place on the route whose number she gave them. After some people in my line and I started insisting that she should either buy a ticket for a real route or get the hell out of the way, she finally completed some type of transaction with the second ticket seller. She was not wearing any Yankees paraphernalia, btw.*
Friday evening, after we'd caught up, Pat and I went to dinner at Giuseppe's on Route 202 outside New Hope because I wanted to have some pizza, even though I knew it wouldn't be as good as my precious La Villa Siciliana. I enjoyed my personal-size white pizza with broccoli raab and sausage.
After dinner, we skimmed through A Muppet Family Christmas at Pat's apartment. Pat had gotten a stack of Muppet movies on VHS for cheap after a local video store had closed. She'd wanted to ask me if I was familiar with a certain Christmas song the Muppets sang toward the end of the show (I wasn't), but we ended up watching most of it anyhow because there were many scenes Pat said I just had to see. :-) One highlight was at the very end, when Jim Henson made a cameo appearance in the kitchen of Fozzie's mother's house to wash the dishes that were dirtied for Christmas dinner.
The movie was especially pertinent because I was all excited about seeing the Jim Henson exhibit, Jim Henson's Fantastic World, at the Michener Museum in Doylestown the next day. Pat had already seen it with a friend from the library—and loved it—so she was going to drop me off at the museum while she went to a previously scheduled reiki appointment.
First thing that morning, Pat and I met Carl and Russ, my buddies whom I used to eat breakfast with almost every weekend, for breakfast at Meil's in Stockton. Rafael, who was also a regular breakfaster back then, and their friends Rhoda and Al joined us. It was lots of fun catching up with my crotchety old pals. Carl has had several big shows since I last saw him, and an art gallery at Kean University, where he used to teach, was renamed after his parents, Karl and Helen. He's still as funny as ever. He loves to razz Margaret, a longtime waitress at Meil's, telling her she's "beautiful but surly."
And Russ, who's a retired teacher, is still raising his beloved German shepherds. And he said he's got 50 barn cats now, all of them spayed or neutered.
And now here's a cavalcade of photos from the breakfast:
A candid shot of Pat. Margaret is the woman over Pat's left shoulder.
My delicious breakfast: two eggs scrambled, sweet potato muffins, and fried potatoes
Meil's display case of goodies. Best almond croissants ever, among other delicious treats
A group shot taken by a friendly biker. Left to right: Pat, Al, Rhoda, Rafael, Russ, Carl, and me
There were three dogs outside Meil's waiting for their masters. In these photos, they seem very concerned with what's going on inside the restaurant but they were actually quite friendly and welcomed the attention we gave them.
Pat drove me past my old house so I could take a quick peek at it, and then we were off to Doylestown.
The Michener Art Museum really is a Bucks County treasure. The Transition sculpture in front of the museum ...
... used to be in Manhattan outside the J.C. Penney Building. The artist, Raymond Granville Barger, was also a poet, and he wrote a poem, also named Transition, for the sculpture's dedication ceremony at the museum.
The Henson exhibit was wonderful. Jim Henson was a creative genius and a humanitarian. And, I learned, he also had the gift of being able to lead other extremely talented people toward the fulfillment of his vision.
The exhibit spanned his career, from his early days making commercials, appearing with his Muppets on various local and national TV shows, and producing and starring in an Academy Award–nominated short film called Time Piece, to his later TV shows and movies that we all know and love. I remember enjoying The Dark Crystal but I never saw Labyrinth. The Muppet Show was always the fastest half hour on television for me growing up. It's such a shame he lived to only 53. Who knows how many more amazing stories he could have brought to life during these almost two decades he's been gone?
Because of legal issues involving Disney, Miss Piggy and some of the other Muppet characters weren't allowed to appear in the exhibit. *sigh* Pat has gotten very enamored of Miss Piggy's take-no-shit character while watching her Muppet tapes. I said our new mantra should be WWMPD: What would Miss Piggy do?
I also was captivated by the museum's Charles Ward exhibit. Ward, a native of Trenton, was a student of famed Bucks County impressionist Daniel Garber. His work was inspired by time spent in BC—specifically, Carversville—and Mexico. He created some wonderful murals for the Trenton Post Office and the PO in Roanoke Rapids, North Carolina, in the 1930s. The murals were commissioned under a New Deal arts program called the Public Works of Art Project.
Pat and I got lunch at Lilly's Gourmet in town. I had a very
satisfying shepherd's pie with a side salad. And after hitting a few stores, we stopped in at Let Them Eat Cupcakes. I went for the delicious Red Velvet. Next time I'm in D-town, I have to try the Banana Butterscotch, which Pat highly recommended.
*I'm not totally anti-Yankee. The Gerbers, George, and some other friends of mine are Yankee fans. I'm just annoyed that so much attention is paid to these guys who play a freakin' game for a living and so little is paid to, you know, stuff that really matters.
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