When playing hooky, it is best not to have too much of an advance plan. A certain element of spontaneity is necessary if you’re to have the proper atmosphere of indulgence and excess. That being said, my weekend hooky session did have a few things that needed to be planned. The Boy needed to be to the airport on time (he was flying off to visit his sister), the Kitten Overlords needed to be fed and watered in our absence, and I needed a place to sleep while I was away. The rest was fairly freeform.
I started by heading off to an orchard a bit north of my final destination. Almar Orchards makes one of our favorite hard ciders, something called (I swear I’m not making this up) J.K.’s Scrumpy. It’s awfully tasty stuff, and the idea of going to find its home was rather appealing. Alas, it’s apparently the wrong time of the year to visit apple orchards, and things were a bit quiet. I did get to chat with the resident puppies and may have accidentally bought rather a lot of honey. I may also have stopped in at another orchard that I drove past while on my way to Almar and bought a bit more honey. It seemed the thing to do. Somehow I totally neglected to note the name, but it’s on the same road. If you’re going to one you can’t help but see the other.
I was totally smitten by the bins of apples waiting to be smushed, and asked if I could take a picture. The woman there was a bit horrified and kept saying that these were the blemished apples they used for smashing, and wouldn’t I rather take a picture of the pretty apples they sold whole? But I was taken with them, and they’re the ones that get made into the product I’m most fond of, so I took a picture of them despite her confusion.
After securing a 6 month supply of honey, I headed off to lunch with a ravelry friend. It’s always such fun to put faces to people you’ve chatted with on the computer for years. It feels like catching up with old friends, not meeting someone for the first time. We had lunch and then swung by Sticks & String. There began what would be the theme of the weekend’s yarn purchases. I’d find what I wanted, bring it to the counter, hear the final price, and say ‘is that it?’ It would turn out the yarn I wanted was on sale. So I’d go get the other yarn I also wanted but had left on the shelf out of a sense of fiscal responsibility — which would then also be on sale. Apparently the yarn fairies had sprinkled their magic dust on me for this trip.
I headed to the hotel next. Along the way I was sucked into some sort of time warp. At least that’s the only reason I can think of for the desk clerk to ask me where my husband was and then say that he (the desk clerk) would ‘need to check with him’ (The Boy) before I could check in. I explained that no, this was indeed 2012, that I am an adult with a credit card, that the reservation was made in my name, and that I did not need my husband’s permission to leave the house. A brief conversation ensued, and I eventually found myself checked into my room. I think a letter to the company may be in order. This certainly isn’t their normal response to women traveling alone, and I think they might want to know this particular hotel is experimenting with a new and somewhat unorthodox approach. But now this has grown overly long, and this seems a good place to leave things for the moment. I’ll be back later with the rest.