Honky-tonk highway, or The Two Cape Cods

{6A in Yarmouthport originally uploaded by rmcgervey}

{The Edward Gorey House originally uploaded by bigskyred. Edward Gorey drew the wickedly macabre illustrations for the opening credits of PBS's Mystery! series, among many other things.}

{139 Main Street Yarmouthport, originally uploaded by hallet02675}

Here are some lovely photos, taken by others (we will discuss the voracity with which my camera eats batteries another time), of Main St. in Yarmouthport, from whence I just returned. It was a lovely trip, a beautiful town and area, with one nagging sidebar:

How is it that someplace so beautiful, so full of charm and history and loveliness, with so many things to do (beach, walk, antiques, art galleries, fresh seafood, ice cream, biking, fishing, gardens, etc), be so teeming with tacky tee shirt/beach towel/flip-flop shops, sad motels, greasy fish shacks, run-down bars, broken and neglected mini-golfs? Is there really that big a market for the latter? Driving down the main drag from Yarmouthport to Chatham, I was dumbstruck by the honky-tonkiness of what must have at one time been the epitome of American entertainment. The main drag in Myrtle Beach is like this as well. Crummy bars and tee shirt shops and icky motels mixed in with expensive high-rise condos on what really is otherwise a nice beach.

{Poor Tiger originally uploaded by tankengine}

Dear readers, are your local tourist spots schizophrenic as well? Please pipe in.

Recovery room

{The Garden Room at Agape Bed & Breakfast, Yarmouth Port MA}

I am very grateful that when I travel for work, I get to stay in hip 4- and 5-star hotels. They are stylish and modern and functional, but sometimes their manufactured newness bores me. I am fortunate, though, to have a cousin who owns a charming B&B on the bay side of Cape Cod. For this visit -- a three-day post-Chicago recovery + Mother's Day getaway with my parents and sister -- she's tucked me in to the pretty pink and white room pictured above, with a lovely white iron bedframe, wide-board floors that creak and slant in all the right places and -- one of my favorite luxuries -- a clawfoot tub in the bathroom. It is the epitome of "girly" and I love it.

This morning I walked down the road to the used book store, later I will venture to the interiors shop across the street, and then my mom and plan to go for tea at the little restaurant up the road. I believe this evening's entertainment includes a private performance of "living-room ballet" by my cousin's five-year old daughter (whom I have plans to kidnap and take home with me, but that's a story for another posting).

Rock yourself to sleep

{embroidered pillowcase, Hard Rock Hotel Chicago}

The Hard Rock franchise takes Rock 'n' Roll very seriously. Every hotel floor is named for different band or musician, with iconic photos engraved on 8 foot x 8 foot metal plates and glass cases with signed costumes or instruments (or both) in every elevator lobby. This visit I'm staying on the "Chicago" floor, with one of their old autographed (and heavily scarred) pianos and a trombone in a glass case by the elevator. Ever since I checked in (two days ago), their early hit ("Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?") has been running through my head. Over. And over. And over. Even after I sang a few lyrics of "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" for the fab assistant Kelly when she said "I'm on the Annie Lennox floor, who is she?", I'm still stuck with "twenty-five or -six to foooouuurrrr...."

Anyway, the real reason for this post was to show off the sweet little guitars embroidered on the pillow cases. I am a sucker for details, and this is the type of little touch that sets a hotel apart from the rest.

Tell the truth now, how many of you know have either of those songs running through your head? And how impressed are you with yourself that you remember most of the lyrics?

Groovin' on a Tuesday afternoon

{Trees blooming in front of Crown Fountain, originally uploaded by robinsegg0523}

I'm in Chicago for a conference my company produces, and found time to play tourist this afternoon. My fab assistant Kelly and I had lunch in Millennium Park, where we sat outside (80 degrees!) and enjoyed the view of these trees blooming in front of the Crown Fountain and the lovely old buildings on Michigan Avenue (some date from the Chicago World's Fair days - any other fans of Devil in the White City out there?). I have no idea who these people in my photo are, but note the top of the recycling bin in the bottom of the photo. Next to it is a garbage can. We sat there for over an hour, and everyone who made a deposit sorted their trash. Just goes to show you, if you make it easy for people, they will willingly recycle!

Sunny new purse cures gray day. Film at 11

{Glazy Days clutch in yellow, by Kenneth Cole Reaction}

My BFF will call me crazy for buying yet another purse (hey, cut me a break, I haven't bought one in two months, and I didn't have any in yellow), but I saw this today and felt it was the perfect cure for a gray day. Plus it will fit perfectly inside the carry-on bag that I tell the TSA is my "purse" when I go to Chicago next week. You can't tell from this photo, but the leather has a nice glaze to it, hence the name Glazy Days. I feel better already.