On Nests and "Forever Homes"

My best friend came for a brief but always delightful visit this weekend. We were celebrating her 50th birthday, which was earlier in July. 

I have known her since we were 4, but we didn't truly become best friends until we were around 15, despite walking to school together, taking the bus together, and being in Girl Scouts together. Something clicked in high school and we've just done life together ever since. 

Well, sort of. We were on parallel paths of sorts -- we did college differently because she had long-term Lyme disease which was devasting on her body. Then my college graduation party resulted in her meeting her future husband and father of her children. I got married first, but it was a disaster. Then she got married the year before my marriage (thankfully) fell completely apart. I got divorced, she had babies. I met Bryce, who met her first baby on one of our first trips to visit together. She left teaching 3rd grade when she had her son, right when I started my teaching life (definitely NOT 3rd grade). When she had her second baby, I proposed to Bryce. I got married again, to the wonderful man I share my life with now, and we hit infertility roadblocks. She had her third child as we started realizing I'd never successfully be pregnant and give birth (but without explanation, which would come way later). We made it through her full house of tinies, where phone conversations were 2 minutes in the bathroom before someone started howling or needed attention. We made it through my realization that I would never have a life even remotely like hers. 

And now, her two oldest have graduated high school. One is going back for sophomore year at a college near me in August, the other is going off to freshman year in Southern California. The youngest is going into her sophomore year of high school. My best friend has an emptying nest. 

But now, we're both 50, and we're literally growing old together. We played a bunch of games of Memory, because she wanted to check to see if she was degenerating (as her lovely daughter suggested when playing at home, ahhh supple and snarky 15 year old brain...). We used to play Memory all the time at sleepovers, and I have a bunch of "grown-up" Memory games featuring birds, and flowers, and movies, and Acadia National Park scenes, and sharks. I love a good Memory game. We were very well matched, which was both comforting and made us wonder if we just have the same brain fog, ha. Her hair is completely grey/silver/white, and mine is largely silver at the temples with my purple highlights. It's not nearly as grey as hers overall, but as it marches towards that, I'll let it shine in its silver glory. (Until then, purple!)

We asked her what she was planning to do with her kids' bedrooms -- leave them as is for them? repurpose any? Wait until after college? Move? She has not-so-slowly turned her house into a bit of a cottagey farm garden wonderland. She has chickens and call ducks. She has vegetables and flowers. She has the greenest green thumb I've ever seen. 

Some containers

Front gardens with smoky sky

Looking out at a cute but naughty puppy from inside the veggie garden

I don't think she's planning to move. And then she asked if we were in our "Forever House." Hmmmm. I don't think so? I love the house itself. I don't love the land (that's the only thing I miss about the old house we left, was the amazing soil and all my gardens. I have NOT been able to recreate that here. I also feel like as I get older, maybe not as many stairs would be wise. I am still scared of the elevator since I got stuck in it a couple years ago! (The house has some accessible features.)

Then Bryce and I talked about nests. My best friend is going to be dealing with the empty nest phenomenon, and our nest is just perpetually empty in the traditional sense. We moved out of a house that felt like a big empty space, devoid of all the dreams we'd envisioned for its future. We moved into a house that fit our life now, and so it never held ghosts of family holidays or beautiful chaos like my friend hid from occasionally so we could have "adult conversation." We don't have that contrast of movement and loudness and young people everywhere to... quiet. But we do have a house that fits our life. I am so very grateful that it became available at just the right time, because the thought of staying in the other house hurts my heart a bit and feels claustrophobic. 

I don't know what the future holds. I would love if someday my best friend and I could be neighbors, like we were growing up...but that's highly unlikely. I would love to find a house (or build a house) that is like this one but with a different layout and smaller, more manageable for when we aren't as physically able. Or maybe having all these stairs will help keep our muscles from atrophying! Or, maybe the world will look very different by the time we get to retirement (which is 61-62 for me and pretty much whenever Bryce feels confident in retirement for him). So for now, I enjoy the quiet treehouse that we have and how it can be a lovely brief respite for my friend, away from her changing nest. 

The Power of A Diagnosis

I have had to explain to people (friends, family) what Hypermobile Ehler-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS) is since receiving this diagnosis from a geneticist earlier in July. I mean, it's a lot of syllables. I am having a hard time succinctly pulling together what it means to have this connective tissue disorder (truth is, I still am not 100% certain I fully understand what connective tissue IS), which has a multi-system impact. What I can explain is this: 

This diagnosis is not something new. This diagnosis EXPLAINS what has always been there, literally since birth. It takes all these seemingly disparate data points and pulls them together into Ahhhh, this is what's going on!

Having a diagnosis puts a name to all the weirdness of my body. And then allows me to find support and figure out what is going to help me deal with this. 

The last time I got a diagnosis that made everything make sense was ADHD. It is another set of letters that explain what's hard for me, what's uncomfortable for me, and some things that are actually awesome that come from the same thing. Part of the relief of that diagnosis was discovering that things that made me "weird" and awkward and things that I (or others) saw as personality flaws were actually due to a difference in how my brain is wired. It has been game-changing to tweak things and figure out what works for me to pay attention to stuff, to let people know I need time to process before I can respond and so when I incessantly say "what?" and then get mad because it's not that I didn't hear you, it's that I needed a hot minute to let it sink in. Communicating what I need or why I do certain things works surprisingly well at work and at home and the places in between. Finding tools that work for me for organization (okay, continuously trying different things and SOMETIMES landing on something that works for a longer term) helps me to not be a hot mess. I still take responsibility for shitty things I do that are related to ADHD (I am absolutely INCAPABLE of guesstimating how long it takes to get out of the house) -- it's not a get out of jail free card. I'm still working on how to get to things NOT ten minutes late. I'm actually working on a lot. But, having ADHD and people who are trained to help me figure it out and compensate for those weaknesses also means that I'm always learning new tricks and trying new things. For instance, I'm not ordering my big, beautiful school planner with all the pretty pictures on the cover and all the lovely color coded tabs. It did not work. It was a giant, pretty paperweight. I started okay, but it didn't stick. So I got a simpler one that was way cheaper and I'm going to try to make this an actual habit I stick to. Fingers crossed. 

The other diagnosis that explained all the things (and made me a bit mad) was PCOS (now PMOS). I had a doctor when I was in my early twenties say he suspected that I had it, but then was like "you don't have x and x" and then got mad when he realized I shave my bellybutton (extra hair) but didn't consider that was a data point and then offered up the immensely helpful "Some women just have pain." Ew. But PCOS definitely explained why my periods sucked from the start and why "charting my cycle" to hopefully avoid bloody underpants was futile and not a personal failing. (Although it's amazing how the executive functioning piece of ADHD worms its way into lots of areas...) You can chart all you want, but when it's every few months that makes it way less predictable. I am still annoyed that nobody seems to give a shit, medically, about that diagnosis now that I am not reproductively viable in any way. Because it also impacts different systems, not just reproductive. Grrr. 

Huh, the adenomyosis was also interesting... explained so much pain during those horrible periods and also was a painful, postmortem reflection that I likely was not going to be able to carry anyway. (Fun-not-fun fact: hEDS has comorbidity with infertility, especially endometriosis and adenomyosis. Yay!) 

Explanations are helpful. They are helpful for understanding what impacts you medically in your body and brain. It gives you a thing to research and learn more about how your body works (or doesn't). Thank you, ADHD, for giving me hyperfocus to really dive deep (and deeeeep) into things I want to research. I am listening to podcasts (Bendy Bodies is a great one), and watching videos, and reading articles online. I now know that lying on the floor (or a table), which is something I do at the end of the day at school (and sometimes earlier if it's a particularly rough day) has been a way that I deal with overwhelm, but it's also what's called a "gravity break" for hEDS. It helps make everything feel so much less HEAVY. My body hurts at the end of the day. Lying flat is delightful. It explains why even washing dishes makes my back and neck hurt. And why I often go lie on the floor after. 

Anyway, didn't mean for this to be a medical history, more that having a diagnosis is helpful when there's stuff that's not working the way it should. Having a diagnosis makes you feel less crazy for having complaints all the time. NOT having a diagnosis but knowing something isn't right is insanely frustrating. And of course, some diagnoses are ones that come with many more complications and difficult decisions. 

For me at least, I feel a tremendous relief when I know what I'm dealing with. 

Apparently, I Am A Zebra

So, there is apparently a saying in medicine that goes like this: "When you hear hoofbeats behind you, don’t expect to see a zebra." 

It means that most of the time, a person has a common diagnosis, not a rare thing going on. Not everything is a Dr. House situation. (Anybody remember that fabulous medical mystery show?)

Except, the Ehrler-Danlos Society explains that sometimes, you are the zebra. 

I had an appointment with a geneticist this week, from a referral placed by my GP last year, and received a diagnosis of Hypermobile Ehrler-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS). Bryce said, "you're kind of racking up these initials," because... PCOS/PMOS, ADHD, hEDS. Sigh. (I mean, but also MSEd (Master's of Education) and NBCT (National Board Certified Teacher). They're not all maladies! 

What is hEDS? A connective tissue disorder where you are hypermobile -- your joints are loose and bendy and you are prone to injuries, migraines, and a host of other issues because connective tissue is literally EVERYWHERE. 

I have always had what my parents called "tinker toy joints." My joints popped in and out (shoulders and elbows in childhood) all the time. I sprained my ankle SO MANY TIMES in childhood and in adulthood. I basically have an area of the attic storage space that is various orthopedic splints and supports and braces. I was born with a dislocated hip that unfortunately wasn't discovered until I was about 9 months old because medical professionals didn't believe my parents when they said something was wrong...so I ended up with surgery to reset both legs and was in a cast from the waist down with a hole for diapers (good gracious) for a while, followed by braces, followed by what seemed like forever in clunky orthopedic shoes (which now I have "stylish" orthopedic shoes). Behold, little baby Jess in her cast: 

Happy riding the "high chair" like a horse

I have all my various falls and slippages and many many unexplained bruises. (Fun fact: both hEDS and ADHD result in you having poor proprioception, or knowing your place in space. Yay!) And, I had two necessary total knee replacements before age 50, which is apparently not the norm. 

My Pilates instructor and both my in-home PT people after the knee replacements questioned if I had hEDS. I am definitely hypermobile. I am definitely a hyperextender and a "bendy body." I did all these things below. 

Image from https://reenvisionpt.com/heds-and-hsd-and-the-role-of-pt/ compiled from the Ehler Danlos Society.

So now, I get to have unlimited physical therapy, and am thrilled to have it in my chart now because apparently my previous colonoscopy experience where the anesthesia didn't work is not uncommon with people with hEDS! The continuing on despite pleas of "I can feel that, ouch, ouch, argh" is NOT common. Grrr. Thankfully the next place I went was phenomenal. 

I feel a sense of relief, because there are so many things that can be explained through hEDS, and MCAS, mast cell activation syndrome. Which is why I am so freaking hivey with such sensitive skin that gets those "exuberant reactions" that I've been plagued with. 

There is a reason for my joint pain. There is a reason I'm klutzy. And, people with hEDS have a high prevalence of ADHD, which was interesting. Not necessarily the other way around, but it was fascinating to see the things that crossed over. 

So there's that. I have new letters. I am a zebra, not a horse. And now I can figure out how to take care of this gumby body as I move through menopause into my older years. 

A Rabbit Hole of Sadness

I started organizing my office, because it's been a week of summer (already!) and that makes me feel productive but in a not-school kind of way. 

Organizing my office led to organizing my books, 

Organizing my books led me to realize I am running out of shelf space (which is insane but true), even though I have literally brought about 30 books into my classroom this year and created the Jess Lending Library of adult books. I had one whole shelf in my office between paperback memoirs and contemporary fiction for my books from my English degree (and Bryce's classics, too). I had done this acrylic riser thing where you can fit two rows on one shelf, which helped with real estate, but I eyed it and was like, "maybe I can put these in the bookshelf upstairs in the hallway." 

The bookshelf upstairs in the hallway is against the side of the brick chimney, which is lovely, and it's an underused space. It has mostly books from our childhoods/adolescence, and... a butt ton of picture books. 

I have a huge stash of picture books for a variety of reasons. Some are treasures from my own childhood, some passed down from my mom's childhood. Some are from when I was a book club editor at Scholastic, and had tons of giveaways which I squirreled away in case I became an elementary school teacher, or, you know, had kids of my own. Some are books I bought for our mythical future children in times of hope, and also books I bought because they were pretty and informative (like The Secret Pool, a picture book about vernal pools, temporary habitats for early spring critters, which I kept). 

And then, there are the ones that still have the power to gut-punch me. 

These were gifted to us at our shower, and have beautiful book plates in them with notes from attendees to "Baby T." I have given away all of the board books, but I still have picture books that I couldn't bear to get rid of. Yet. 

But, it's time. It makes zero sense for these books to sit on a shelf, unused, when they could be read with and by an actual child. I need the space for books that fit our life now, and I'm ready to let them go. 

Of course, as I went through them I sobbed and felt the loss acutely. 

I read exactly one book plate and then decided that was just self-flagellation. I'd read them before, I didn't need to revisit that part of things. I could feel all the love and hope and support from everyone who gave books to us, and the intentions infused in the ones I bought myself, without reading the words from that time. It was overwhelming just looking at the covers. 

They brought to the forefront a reminder of an alternate life, a ghost life that never fleshed out. I felt it viscerally. Not because I want that life or am unhappy with my life now, but because of all the promise those books represented, and the heartbreak of a dream unrealized. 

I am giving the books to my friend who is also my hair lady (responsible for my fun hair color tapestries!). She has a little girl just the right age to enjoy and grow into these books, which are a mix of Scholastic giveaways and books meant for our phantom child. Bryce went through the stack and had veto power, but only one made it back to our shelf. We still have a whole shelf with picture books and early readers from our childhoods, and books that are special to us for other reasons. 

Even though sitting there, going through those books, ruminating on what was and what could have been and the guilt of so much generosity gone unused sent me down what Bryce dubbed "a rabbit hole of sadness," I can see in my mind this little sprite reading these books, gobbling them up, hopefully becoming an inspired avid reader...and it makes me happy. 

The upstairs shelf now.

Summer

It's here, summer is here! Not just calendar summer, but school's-out-for-summer summer! 

This year was a doozy. It was also awesome in many ways, and I absolutely loved my kids (even the ones who had anger issues and personal space issues, I end up loving them extra). I will be glad to see the every-other-period schedule go the way of the dodo. Rushing from classroom to classroom, debriefing and prebriefing with co-teachers, managing different grades, walking around with my fruit-yogurt-granola parfait for hours because there's no time to eat... I will be glad to see that go. Funny thing is, I'm teaching almost the exact same thing next year -- just different schedule and different caseload. Still 7th special class, 8th co-taught social studies, and the only difference is instead of Resource Room with complex kids, I have a newly created Study Skills class with supposedly less complex kids (although it would appear that is a bit of an illusion). We shall see what that looks like...

I ended the year with health issues...made it THE ENTIRE TIME without a respiratory infection, and then come June I got hit hard with an asthma exacerbation. I had a little cold before, like a sinus-y snotty upper respiratory thing, but then it went into my lungs and pollen added an extra kick and I ended up out of school for 4 days and on multiple rounds of steroids and nebulizing. I missed the 8th grade beach party, I missed the Color Run (aw, shucks, darn it...haha). I missed precious last days with my kids, although I came back with 5 left. It was very scary -- I went to urgent care twice and the second time they asked me if I've ever been intubated for my asthma before (um...NO! WTF?) and was given a Medrol 80 mg shot in my arm. They said it would be like a flu shot...except it BURNED all the way down my arm. So just know, that's apparently normal if you ever have to get one. 

I made my memories posters for my 7th grade special class friends, all TWO of them that we had left by the end of the year. They hated each other, so I made sure not to put pictures of the other on their posters. They were completely customized! Lots of goofy things we drew on the board, inside jokes such as George Washington's horse, Nelson, and favorite memes. Then for my resource room/caseload, I made cards with pictures and images that meant something to them and wrote them a little message of love, encouragement, and major I'll Miss Yous. I love doing this, because I have the projects in my Canva projects forever, and the kids just light up. 

I love that I live in this cyclical world where we have 10 months of intense time together and then it ends, just to begin all new in the fall. (Or in next year's case, August, since the school year keeps going longer and longer and starting earlier and earlier.)

And summer...summer is for rejuvenating. For recuperating. For some deep rest needed after the marathon that is the school year. This year I really felt that my brain could reach a capacity where I had nothing left at the end of the day and needed to just veg. I found that my reading slowed way down during the week and then picked up on the weekends. This year was difficult for work-life balance, but I survived it. 

And now, this is nearing the end of Week One of summer vacation (out of nine). The word for this week is RECONSTITUTE. I have no goals. I am just letting myself be a puddle (on the floor, on the couch, on the deck, on the futon, in bed). I nap when I want to. I'm reading. I'm moving my body. I am absolutely not trying to accomplish ANYTHING. 

This is a mistake I've made before, where I make goals for the summer and track accomplishments and then end up...not quite as rested, not quite as separated from work. I've seen a lot of reels lately with teachers talking about the need to totally let go for a week, and then decide not what you want to do first, but what you want LESS of, and what you want MORE of. To balance it out. I have had the urge a few times this week to just check something real quick about school...and I SQUASHED IT. No. I am not doing anything this week. I like to keep July as work-free as possible and then spend August prepping, but I think this year after this week I might do a few things in July because August is just so short. And that way I won't be dreading August as much because I'm sprinkling things about instead of making August just "one long Sunday night" like the memes I've seen that I love (and hate). 

So, happy summer! I can feel my brain coming back to life. 

Landmark Bench-O-Versary

When you are childless not-by-choice, time works differently. There aren't milestones connected to your kids -- no birthdays, no graduations, no cultural celebrations, no dances... all of those things that people with kids track over time don't exist for us. So, we decided to celebrate the crap out of our own milestones. 

I am not embarrassed that we celebrate our Bench-o-versary, our Engage-o-versary, our (two) wedding anniversaries (the legal one and the wedding one). Why not? 

What is a Bench-o-versary? Well, it's the anniversary of our first date. And, it blows my mind, but our first date was TWENTY YEARS AGO. A feat I feel particularly proud of because we both had other lives first.

Let me tell you a story. Once there were two people who either went through or were going through difficult divorces, and they each had friends who thought it would be a great idea for them to join Match.com. Neither of them wanted to. Both of them did, because their friends were like, "do it, it will at the very least be an ego boost, and you don't have to do anything if you don't want to. Just give it a try." Fine.

Try we did. (Ditching the third person, it's weird.) We each put up THE MOST HONEST PROFILES we possibly could. They read like, "this is me, this is what I want, this is what I don't want, I do not care if this makes me unattractive to you because if it does, you're probably a douchecanoe anyway." Neither of us put pictures up. Back then, you didn't have to. 

In late May, I got a "wink" from some guy named Plawosok (later it was revealed to literally be just letters on the keyboard in a zig-zag pattern). I checked him out. Okay, ambitious...check. Compatible interests? Hiking, music, animals, reading, adventurous eating, NPR... check. Wants someone who plays no games and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty (for me, literally in the garden) and likes a good meal? Check. Smart and humorous and a bit nerdy? Check. 

So I connected with him. And we emailed back and forth for a little bit, until we sent pictures finally. His: a picture in a hat, big smile. Mine: from my 30th birthday in my cubicle at the human resources place I was working at through my Master's of Education, with a birthday headband and push-pins making a happy face behind me. Both of our friends approved. 

So, on June 6th, 2006, we met after my 11-8 shift (call center services, yay, but it also allowed me to get my fieldwork done in the mornings without missing any work) for coffee in a walkable area in our city. Yep, coffee. At 8:30 pm. 

He was ADORABLE. Very cute, very TALL, nerdy in the best possible ways, but also hot. Coffee turned into walking and talking around the neighborhoods. Walking and talking turned into sitting on a bench (hey! there's the bench!) in a park on a corner, which turned into smooching, which became the start of the best parts of my life. 

So, this is our twenty-year Bench-o-versary, and I am so so grateful that we both gave Match a chance even though it seemed cringey and weird. I am so so grateful that this was pre-Tinder and all the swiping, because we might not have found each other that way. Also, we might not have ever found each other without the online dating platform, even though we are so well suited to each other, which makes me feel even more lucky that we did. 

Normally we try to take a picture on a bench to commemorate -- sometimes at a park, sometimes our own bench at my corner garden.... but I am down and out with a horrid respiratory infection and am not to go outside lest it further trigger my drowning lungs. So no bench picture this year. 

But, yay to 20 years. Yay to our time together, for the incredible changes to my life that have happened as a result. I am so grateful for our life together, and that Plawasok (or however it was spelled) digitally winked at me and started this whole adventure.

Our actual park bench on our 10th Bench-o-versary, only pic I could find!

50th Birthday Surprise Trip!

That Bryce, he is a tricky one... and a FANTASTIC planner. My surprise trip for my 50th was amazing. 

It started out with anxiety though...Bryce asked if I would want to drive, and he could give me directions. Which I knew would be difficult because we operate very differently with directions, but also I prefer to be the one driving because I get carsick and he said this way would keep the surprise better because I wouldn't be able to see navigation. I do not like driving blind. I need directions 3 at a time, and well in advance. I am that old lady that puts her turn signal on a good half mile before it's necessary. 

The first thing was... do we go East or West on the 90? It was East, then we weren't going to Niagara on the Lake, because we'd have to drive towards Buffalo for that. So my guesses were a) Vermont or b) somewhere in the Adirondacks/woods somewhere. Both wrong.

But then, we got off at Little Falls/Dolgeville. I was like, "tricky, tricky, if we're going to Vermont, we can't get off at a regular exit or I'll know. So he's tricking me!" But then we were on the most local of roads, running parallel to the thruway, and then we were solidly in Mennonite territory and Bryce kept saying, "yeah, turn up here. Left. Yes, I think left is the best way." 

I was SO UNHAPPY. I don't like not knowing where I'm going, and I definitely didn't like last minute turns and not knowing if he was fucking with me or serious. But, the Mennonite farms were beautiful, I hit zero horse-and-buggies despite seeing three, and we decided horse poop on the side of the road is "The Mark of the Mennonite." 

Eventually, we ended up in a place where there was a Memorial Day parade, ON A FRIDAY EVENING, that shut down the whole road we needed. It was crowded, I was hungry, and I started crying. But, once that was over, we got on a regular road and BOOM! There were signs for Saratoga Springs. Of course, we have driven through Saratoga on our way to Vermont before, so I still wasn't sure where we were going. Then we were in the town, and I got directions to take a right too late to take it, and started getting teary eyed, but then two turns later we PARKED. 

You know where we were? 

Saratoga Springs, at the Saratoga Arms Hotel! I have never done more than pass through Saratoga (although I think we had a cross country meet there in high school, but that doesn't count since...high school shenanigans). It was a totally new place! 

The hotel was beautiful. It was an old, old building with three floors (plus the lower floor, which included private covered patios, which I guess in apartments is called "garden level?"). It looked like it should be haunted. Luckily for us, no midnight echoey giggles or phantom knocks. They upgraded us for my birthday and so our room had a sitting area. There were fancy Scarlett-O'Hara style stairs you could take to get to the main floor, or you could take an elevator. There were sitting rooms downstairs with beautifully realistic gas fireplaces. There was coffee in the morning and lemonade and iced tea afternoon and night, with suggestions on spiking either (cold) drink. You could get cocktails in the lobby or to take up to your room or out to the porch. Oh, the porch! 

First Night Manhattans porch

Post-breakfast reading porch

The trip was amazing. The hotel was swanky and cozy, the town was cute, and true to last year's surprise... we went to a bunch of bookstores! 

The first one was the Northshire, which we frequent in Manchester, Vermont every time we go anywhere near, and we had never been to the one in Saratoga. It was a little like a wormhole, because once you went in, it was decorated pretty much the same with some similarities in layout, so you could imagine you were actually in Vermont. I didn't really have much in mind, so it was fun to walk around and browse and pick up different books: 

i

Bryce got me the Jenny Lawson (I love her so much, and am embarrassed to say I didn't realize she had a new book out until I saw it on my sister's birthday wishlist!), Whack Job: The History of Axe Murder, and On Earth As It Is Beneath, which was his secret pick that I had never heard of. I almost got Strange Buildings until I saw Strange Houses, not that they go in order but I really, really enjoyed Strange Pictures, which was one of the most innovative books I've read in a long time. How could I resist The Goth Garden, which is full of interesting plants! And The Spirit Bares Its Teeth is truly something to look forward to. I loved Andrew Joseph White's Compound Fracture, and I'm sure I'll love this one too. I also got a kick out of the fact that the books color coordinated like they did. 

Next was a used bookstore with a labyrinth of little rooms that kept going back and back and back -- Lyrical Ballad Bookstore. I actually enjoyed the hunt while not having a target in mind. The rooms could be a bit creepy though, more than once I went in and had to peer around shelves to make sure I was alone and there wasn't some literary killer in wait. I spent a lot of time in the Young Adult section, but found some good stuff in the adult sections too: 

The top two are for my classroom, the bottom two for summer reading. I was assured by people who read North Woods that it was really great and the weird giant mountain lion really doesn't have much to do with the story. Covers are weird. The Deepest Lake was in the Mystery section, and I'd never heard of it, so in my stash it went! 

The final bookstore was Botanica Books, a highly curated shop up narrow stairs into a two-room, tall-ceilinged space. I thought I heard a duck, which was weird, but it was the parakeet/parrot looking bird that sat on the bookseller's shoulder and thankfully didn't fly about (I like birds from a safe distance). I had a great conversation with the bookseller, and she offered a discount to teachers, students, and librarians which was lovely. Here are my picks: 

Ancient vampire books in one volume, some T. Kingfisher, a Shirley Jackson memoir with a wry look at motherhood, The Mere Wife which is a sort of Beowulf retelling, and Quicksand, which Bryce got for me at the recommendation of the bookseller. 

I think I am all set (and then some) for summer reading. 

The other part of our trip was food. Breakfasts were included at the hotel, which was great because every little thing was extra if you didn't stay there. So yummy. The first night we ate Mexican at a place called Cantina, which was good (but obviously not as good as our regular haunt back home).

Margarita, guacamole, chicken tortilla soup (a little tomato-heavy for our taste but good)

Lunch on Saturday was the most delicious Middle Eastern food I've ever had at Sara's Kitchen. It's Egyptian, and they did an AMAZING job with gluten free. It was actually pretty damn close to the best FOOD I've had...the flavors were amazing and the setting was chill. 

Mmmmm Turkish coffee, so worth the wait

This was INSANELY delicious: Crispy halloumi cheese with a spiced apple salad and fig/pistachio jam. The best thing I have EVER put in my mouth. 

And look! Gluten free falafel wrap, made with split fava beans because Egyptian, and super light and flavorful. 

We seriously contemplated coming back for dinner and forgoing our dinner reservations. But, we went to the Italian place, Solveno, which was very good (if rushed). Sweet Northeast oysters, a beet salad, and delicious wild mushroom GF gnocchi.

Tasty drinks, but so rushed we only had one.

OMG the dessert... Bryce's was a carrot cake larger than his head, and mine was a lemon polenta cake that was to die for. And they gave me a t-shirt for my birthday! 

We got back to our pretty hotel room that I took zero pictures of, immediately pajamafied, and got drinks from downstairs to have in our room while we read. I put my Cat Nap sleepshirt on and Bryce went to get the drinks, which arrived at the room and I was mildly mortified since I was in my sleepshirt and no bra, but I'm sure they've seen weirder. It cracks me up that the thing we loved most to do to relax was what we do pretty much all the time at home -- listen to music, read books, enjoy a beverage. 

One thing I really liked about Saratoga Springs was the walkability. We never drove the whole time we were there -- we could walk absolutely everywhere. 

Google told me these are Swedish ducks

I have a video that I can't seem to upload of this adorable duckling zooming around the pond and chirping. Adorbs.

The next day it rained heavily, and we went for a walk but it was quite squishy. After visiting some ducks in a park (and a duckling with boundless energy on the pond), we packed the car and went home via Ballston Spa, where everything Bryce wanted us to check out was closed. Booo. But we did have a great lunch at the Whistling Kettle, a little tea house that was very granola/hippy dippy, and delicious. 

Bryce was worried that he couldn't do something as memorable as last year's Magical Mystery Bookshop Tour day trip, but this was FANTASTIC. A weekend getaway filled with books, food, and walking? Great job, Bryce! I am a lucky, lucky duck.