I’m not sure how to do a vacation follow-up post without sounding like a braggy bitch, something I feel that I’ve been doing a lot lately. It must go back to all that good old Catholic guilt. Something about being glowingly happy and wanting to talk about it seems inherently wrong somehow, when there are things like tarballs and landmines and vuvuzuelas.
So. We got engaged. (squee!!)
And then we piled in the Griswold Family Volvo Sedan with my parents and made the yearly trek up to New England to visit the family.
Let me preface this right away by saying that I am NOT a good traveler. I’m a crappy sleeper under the best circumstances (See: in my own bed with air conditioning on, etc), so take me out of my element and I’m guaranteed to be awake most of the night. Add to that equation that the New Englandahs are not so fond of, how you say, air conditioning? In the summer? When it’s hot? And that makes for an overtired, soggy, cranky mess of a woman.
This year, I sought to avoid the inevitable meltdown by graduating to “not-crashing-with-family” status. Plus, bringing Army Boy along and being all, “Hey, can we have sex at your house?” would just be AWKWARD.
(Please picture me saying that to my grandmother. Get it? Good.)
My parents have stayed at the Jacob Hill Inn during our visits, and I wanted to discover the secret of why they seemed glowy and rested while I was cranky and frizzified. Army Boy and I booked our room a couple of months ago, and looked forward to the official start of vacation.
Of course, the timing was rather perfect, with a certain sparkly thing and the prospect of 10 uninterrupted days off, and we were practically dancing by the time we pulled off the tree-lined road and into the small parking lot of the Inn.
The innkeepers, Bill and Elenora met us in the drive with warm hugs and lots of congratulations on our recent engagement, and then personally showed us to our rooms. We had booked a suite in the barn, while Mom and Dad were checked into their favorite room in the main house. Due to a heat wave that RI was experiencing, they were upgraded into the barn building where there was central air.
Let me start by saying that Bill and Elenora have some of the most amazing taste I’ve ever seen. Everything at the inn has been restored in breathtaking detail, and it’s decorated with a mix of antiques and comfortable furnishings. Each room has a story, and it’s a treat to spend some free time touring them and hearing where some of the furnishings have journeyed from.
Mom and Dad were in the Plymouth Suite, complete with the biggest wooden canopy bed I’ve ever seen. It looks like it came right off the set of “The Tudors,” and I’ll admit to having fantasies of a certain actor who plays Charles Brandon lazing in it.
Our room was the Nantucket Suite, which was painted a soothing blue and had a full wall of big windows that let us take in the incredible view. We also had 2 fireplaces and a Jacuzzi tub, which was perfect for soaking after a day of travel or being touristy. There was a bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge with our name on it, and a little jar of homemade cookies that was magically replenished each day by little elves. Even our bathroom was unique, with some antique arched window mirrors that I flat-out covet for our house. I fully admit to wanting to steal some of their unique décor ideas and put them to use.
And yes, we slept like a dream Every. Single. Night. It was clean and completely quiet.
(Side story: The first night there, an older couple stayed in the room next door. The next morning, when they came out to breakfast, we all exchanged pleasantries, and they looked rather pointedly at us and said “And how was YOUR night?” Army Boy’s guilty face gave us away, and we spent the rest of the morning wondering if… erm… our bed squeaked.)(This was in front of our parents. My Parents and the old people know that we hopped on the good food and did the bad thing. And then I crawled under the table and hid there for a few hours.)
In addition to the gorgeous interior, the inn has a plush common room with a pool table, ping pong table, plush couches and a big screen tv. If you’re feeling more outdoorsy, there’s an impeccable pool, a tennis court, and lounge chairs to watch the incredible sunsets that occur each night without fail.
Elenora’s breakfasts each morning were something to look forward to as well- I’m determined to learn how to make my own version of her homemade granola, and to master stuffed French toast. While you’re enjoying your morning coffee, Bill (who we started calling “Uncle Bill” by the end of the visit) makes sure that you’re kept entertained with his numerous exploits. They make a habit of visiting some of the other inns in the Select Registry, and had interesting anecdotes about some of the other members.
As we prepared to depart Friday morning, I found myself genuinely sad to be leaving. I was dreading the fact that our vacation was halfway over and that we’d have to return to the real world from our bliss bubble in a matter of days. The inn made our first week of being engaged a relaxing and romantic experience, and I wish that everyone could experience something like it. If nothing else, it was a time where we had nothing to do other than to really TALK, because there was no laundry to do, no dinner to cook, no video games to distract us. We also agreed that every once in a while, we’re going to take time (even if only an overnight) and make sure that we concentrate on being an “us”. It’s something to learn as we go along, but we have our whole lives to figure it out.
(Please note: I was not compensated in any way to write this, I just had a kickass time and got some cool pictures. Please to send some homemade granola. I tried to make it and burned it. FAIL.)