We drove for a couple of hours, chatted, and laughed - conversation flows so easily with Laura - and stopped at a diner in New Hampshire, I think, for lunch. I don't know what to say about the waffles I had . . . they were, um, unique, and Laura said her biscuit sandwich was . . . interesting, but they were better than McDonald's, I guess (there's no real getting over the whole pink slime, undigestible fries thing). We drove for about another hour or so. The area seemed familiar. Dishon and I spent time in Vermont years ago. We were headed for Rochester, which is very mountainous (I do not like driving in steep areas) and muddy (which became a bit of an issue when we went from paved to unpaved roads . . . I think that happened when we made a right turn near the five chickens).
Despite my near panic attack when I was sure we'd either get stuck in the mud, drive off the mountain, or at least into a ditch (thank God for Laura's calming presence), I did notice that the view was breathtaking. Lots of open space, streams, trees and mountains (and when I went out to the car after dinner, the night sky was so clear and filled with stars). The rooms at the retreat are all named after authors, and I'm in the Mark Twain Room (the first room in the house with a king sized bed and beautiful view). I think Laura's in the Robert Frost room.
We are here with five other writers, and it was nice to sit with them, drink wine, and chat about where we're from and what we're working on. Dinner was so good - four courses, I think. Laura and I hung out in her room talking and laughing some more and watching Underground after dinner. I think she's hooked, and I'm so glad to have a chance to watch it again before season 2 begins next week.
There's a fireplace, which I love. We'll have to enjoy that tomorrow, and I'll try to remember to post pics. I'm sleepy now. Just trying to get this in before midnight 😴. Tomorrow, we write.
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