The Amsterdam afterhours are better enjoyed when asleep. I was content waking up this morning knowing that the the last requirement that involved Amtrrdam was finding breakfast. We had a few huge servings of carbs across a mangled intersection from our simply average hotel was situated on.
Full and completely ready to be on the road, we did a quick tidy-up of the car and found our way back to the New York Throughway.
Our progress was unhindered, with the exception of the inevitable caffiene infusion. My first today came in the form of an iced latté and a slice of carrot cake, in Bennington, Vermont. Wow. It was fabulous.
We stopped again for lunch in Brattleboro, overlooking the Connecticut River. Prior to eating, I snagged a new CD by Manmademan, "Cell Division." It's acceptable within its genre, but not by any means innovative in style. Oh well. Our meal was rather disappointing, and the service time was wretched. I had a BLT, mom a soup and salad. They were all meager portions.
Our second espresso stop was in Keene, New Hampshire. Parking was a mess due to construction, but we eventually found a vacant spot, snagged it, and got some delicious drinks at "Prime Roast." I indulged in the long lost pleasure of an iced soy latté.
The last stop for the day before Exeter was supposed to be a quick bathroom break, but after driving into Miller State Park and up a steep incline for a few minutes in search of a pit toilet, we found ourselves at the top of Mt. Pack Manadnock. It was shocking - the view was completely obscured by what we believe was an eternal human-created haze. Visibility was reduced to mere miles, instead of the promised a hundred or more. We are such hypocrites, but concerned ones at that.
Back down the mountain, bladders empty, it was a clear shot to Exeter.
About fifteen minutes out, we found a pizza place, "Front Row" on the iPhone, and called in an order for a half pesto, spinach and feta, and half pepperoni combo. We had enough time for another bathroom break and a brief sit-down before our pizza was ready to go.
Another hop to Brookside drive, and we were welcomed into the familiar condominium of Edith Stowell, "Gran." We were happy. We feasted.
And now, we will sleep.
Today's photo is absent, mostly because my inclination as a shutter-bug has subsided for the time being, but with no indication that my love for the art has ebbed.
We are here.