... in Margaritaville, where else? Last night we ate in one of our hotel’s restaurants; Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville.  And, of course we ordered the Cheeseburger in Paradise. You just have to, ya know? We noticed at a table next to ours they had a interesting contraption in the middle of their table that was a glass tube at least two feet tall filled with margaritas and a tap at the bottom. Wow, now that’s the way to go for a large group!

Our table was at the front entrance to the restaurant and this was our view:

A lovely, voluptuous figurehead on the ship that is permanently “docked” as part of the restaurant. It turned out to be a very entertaining place to sit. Watching people’s reaction to her prominent features was hilarious. Some men went by and had to put their hands on her breasts. One man went by and did a double take and I just started laughing at the look on his face. He saw me laughing, and grinning sheepishly he said “you caught me looking!” Some people, if they were tall enough came close enough to lose an eye as they rounded the corner without noticing at all. Some people were embarrassed (mostly women). One woman flung open her blouse (she had a t-shirt on underneath) and dared her husband to compare her endowment to the figurehead’s. My favorite of the night was a man who looked like he’d had more tequila than me that gazed at her longingly for few minutes before he whipped out his cell phone, put his head next to her breast, and took a photo of himself.

People seem to have left their inhibitions at home. Vegas; you gotta love it!

Home Sweet Home for the week.

This city’s energy is amazing, but we are three hours off our normal schedule. My real time is almost midnight, although here things are just getting started. We ate, drank, walked a lot and watched two fountain shows at the Bellagio. Now we are headed to bed. Five hours on a cramped plane makes a person weary. Who said “half the fun is getting there?” They didn’t know about today’s airlines, I’m certain. Maybe if they did, they flew first class.

I love graveyards; the older the better. Sorry, I know many people think they are depressing; death and doom come to most people’s minds. But my mind goes beyond the inscription on the stone, trying to read something into it and thereby gaining some insight into the person that once lived. Morbid? No, not to me.

One of the roads to the cabin was marked Old Cemetery Road, and for good reason. As we drove down this tiny one lane road, here was a cemetery in this out-of-the-way-spot with no church in sight. Why here, we wondered? One look at all the crooked, leaning headstones and I knew I would be coming back to this spot for a closer look round.

A dramatic pine tree presided over the graves like a benevolent protectress. No doubt about it; this tree was the focal point. Its energy radiated outwards from it.
Lie beneath me and be at peace, it seemed to say.

It was obvious that either there were not trees where there are trees today, or the trees were tiny when the people were buried in hopes that the sapling would lend some beneficial shade to their loved one. The trees have pushed aside the gravestones and seem to come right out of the graves themselves in places, as if the people were reborn into trees. I kind of like that analogy. In some cases, long after the trees have lived their lives, the stones still persist, albeit a bit skewed. Most of them were from the mid-1800s.

One seems to have taken root of its own accord.

In another case, this tree seems to have swallowed the headstone. Intriguing, no?

And, a plaque on the large protectress tree proclaims his death as such:

Some headstones needed more help from others:

Others just spoke to me for other reasons.

In the end there is life co-mingled with death as seen in this photo of a lovely blooming bush.

This sign hangs upon it. I can only hope that it means the blossoms and not the people below.

All in all, I was l left with a peaceful feeling. If this were my final resting place on this Earth, I would feel at peace.

May you all rest peacefully tonight, dear friends and fellow bloggers.

I knew it was going to happen eventually. Rick loves boats too much to not take Andy’s pontoon boat for a spin. And, he was bound and determined to take the dogs with us. Gads, what is he thinking? They’ve never been on a boat before. Visions of dogs jumping over the side as we pulled away from the dock went flashing through my head. Either that or I would be babysitting them for the entire trip. Oh joy. But first we had to actually get them on the boat.

Alex didn’t want anything to do with the floating dock. The first few times we tried to get him on it he just stood there and whimpered pitifully after taking two shaky steps. Hey, this thing moves! Not only does it move, but it makes funny squeaky-clanking noises. Uh uh. No way. Finally, on the third day of our stay we managed to get him to “walk the plank.” You can hear him whimpering the whole way. He crouched down as far as he could and still walk.

Aren’t you beginning to wonder about our sanity?? But amazingly enough, once we were underway things went just fine.

Okay, guys, now what?

I know, let’s watch Dad drive!

Wheeeeeeeeeee ... this is kind of fun!

After a little exploring, Hailey and Alex look out the bow.

Alex says, “Look Hailey, there’s another floating thing over there ... “

Good dogs!

After getting his sea legs Alex decided he quite liked looking out over the bow.

Unlike our inappropriately named dog, Sailor, who took a few quick looks over the side and decided he preferred to stick close to Dad.

Nothing like a little wind in your tail!

All in all, I have to admit I was wrong about our little boat outing being a recipe for disaster. It turned out to the highlight of our stay at the cabin. Who knew?

 

 

For the next three days this will be the view out our deck over Lake Wallenpaupack in Pennsylvania. Back a few entries when I highlighted Hannah, the St. Bernard, I warned you to watch for more about the cabin. Well, here we are for a brief respite, thanks to Andy and Linda for the generous loan of their cabin.