Remember the Maine, Part I

A couple of weeks ago, Will and I went to Maine for our anniversary. Or rather, I was told we were embarking on a “surprise” “adventure”, and that I would be whisked away to an undisclosed location of his choosing.

This excited me very much.

But first, he engaged in a little misdirection. He took me to play mini golf (which, as you may know, is my favorite mini sport), and in the early hours of a Friday at that, which meant it was mostly empty and afforded us the opportunity to take photos such as these:

Oh, Paul Revere. You sure know how to show a girl a good time.
That drummer kid is freaked out by the new guy.
Classy, boys.

From there we drove halfway to New Hampshire before I realized that actually, no, we were driving halfway to Maine. And then, all the way to Maine. We stopped in Portland to take in a Sea Dogs baseball game, the highlight of which was this miniature lighthouse that popped out of the outfield. I was told it only happened when they got home runs, but since they did not get any home runs and it appeared anyway, I’m assuming it just wanted to join in on the festivities.

Hey miniature lighthouse, could you try and tone down the adorable? Thanks.

From there it was revealed that we were staying at a bed and breakfast inn that was ALSO AN ALPACA FARM. (Well, there was an alpaca farm on the property. The inn itself was not an alpaca farm. That would have been messy, and breakfast would have been rather unfortunate.) I love alpacas, and so I was pretty excited about the whole situation. Especially when I got to walk an alpaca the next morning.

Me and DaVinci, exchanging our vows.

The farm had many other fun animals, but rather than leading us all in a spirited rendition of “Old McDamico Had A Jaunty Alpaca Farm”, I will instead post more photos:

Duck, Duck, Goose
“Of course we’re not here to murder you! Definitely not. Ha…murder. No way.”
I don’t know what this thing is called, but you can bet that the word “necktastic” is in there somewhere.

And then against the better judgment of our nonathletic, dangerously clumsy selves, we took archery lessons. They were super fun, and I was told I have excellent form…which got me approximately nowhere, since my aim was terrible. I did, however, manage to get slightly close, and nothing says badass more than excitedly pointing at the mediocre thing you’ve just accomplished.

Nice job there, Katniss.

Will, auditioning for Team Gale, fared slightly better.

Well that’s all fine and good, but can you bake bread or win over the hearts and minds of the nation? Hmm?

Eventually we wrapped up the weekend with a fan-freaking-tastic dinner in Portland at Five-Fifty Five and a fruity little number called a Rhubarb Gin Fizz.

About the girliest I get, folks.

And this cool sign:

See, I can eat a metric ton of cheese if I want to! The sign says so!

All in all, a delightful weekend. There is more to come, however. Tomorrow I will post part two of this shindig, (until then, why not enter the Scorch giveaway below?) and be forewarned: it’s all of the leftover weird stuff.

Like a bunghole plug tool.

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6 comments

    • It’s called Miniature Golf on the Village Green, and it’s in Natick. There are even more hilarious statues than I had room to post, plus a little Revolutionary War soundtrack that plays in the background. I can’t overstate its delightfulness and I highly recommend we all take a field trip some day.

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