Cambridge House

Bee Gees Song of the Day: My World

My world is our world
And this world is your world
And your world is my world
And my world is your world is mine

It’s been a long time since I’ve blogged, and I apologize. The muse left me for a while. To tell you the truth, I don’t think she’s back yet, but I’m sitting here filling in for one of the operators who is sick and I’m bored, and Lacie missed me, so I'm writing.

I’m hoping something comes to me before the end of this sentence. Sheesh. It didn’t. I am forced to recount my weekend.

2pm Friday; left work early, met my cousin The Guest Blogger and we headed out to quaint Cambridge, Maryland. We have friends out there who own a bed and breakfast and the occasion was to celebrate the October birthdays; one of which is mine.

Traffic sucked, but when doesn’t it down here? We used the time to catch up since we often lament that we don’t have enough time to talk. Guest Blogger did ask me for Halloween costume ideas for her husband. I am a person of little imagination and all I could contribute was the suggestion to wear a suit and tie, attach some toilet paper to the bottom of the shoe and going to the party as Senator Craig. He would, of course, need to walk around with a wide stance.

Not sure if it’s going to work. Probably need to attach a commode of some sort. I invite your comments and your suggestions for a costume.

We arrived in good time, traffic notwithstanding, and started with some wine and cheese. After a tour of the beautiful Cambridge House (I can't recommend this wonderful place highly enough by the way), we left for dinner. We went to a wonderful local eatery, which was within walking distance of the B&B.

I might as well tell you right now, it became a crab weekend. We frequently put our own twist on the famous Forrest Gump quote by saying, “Crab is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, sautee it. There's, um, crab kebabs, crab creole, crab gumbo, pan fried, deep fried, stir fried. There's pineapple crab and lemon crab, coconut crab, pepper crab, crab soup, crab stew, crab salad, crab and potatoes, crab burger, crab sandwich... That's, that's about it.”

We started with a crab sampler. I had some kind of local catch topped with crab. Crab. Crab crabbiness. We mostly had crab. Well, in between mini-shots of some sort of tequila. And glasses of wine and/or beer. It was that kind of weekend.

We retired to the Tiki Bar where we were all pressed into tequila shot consumption featuring the tequila of our choice. Since I am mostly ignorant of the genre, I went with the traditional lime/salt/swallow/lime/lick event. I find the older I get, the more crap like that just makes my stomach say, “Knock it off. You missed your chance in the 80’s to booze up because you had kids. Just forget it.” He (my stomach is a man), did not punish me severely, he just let me know he wasn’t happy with my behavior.

It was at this point, I began to suspect that my other cousin, I’ll call her Starbuck for reasons I will go into later, had a secret agenda. I began to sense that Starbuck wanted to locate me an obnoxiously wealthy Korean Catholic to service my needs for the weekend. Setting aside the fact that I’m not going to engage in recreational procreation unless I have spectacularly blacked out, Starbuck failed rather miserably when she started interrogating a rotund middle-aged Caucasian male who was losing his hair and had the nose of a man who spends a good deal of private time in the Tiki Bar. He didn’t even pass the Catholic test.

Having reached my limit after the one shot of tequila, I enjoyed watching the ladies enjoy themselves. We walked back to the B&B. It was 9pm.

By 9:30, Starbuck was sound asleep on the couch and found that I too was having difficulty keeping my eyes open. We all decided to call it a night. I was staying in the “Secret Room” off Dorchester. It was lovely.

More tomorrow.