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Sunday, February 1, 2015

Bye Bye January - Hello February

Can you believe it? A month of 2015 has fled behind us and now it is  Valentine Month.  Well, of course I know you can believe it - it happens every year. But somehow, though I do many things that cause me to look at calendars, it seems like a surprise to feel the days lengthen, the cold strengthen and the calendar page flip over.

And I am HEARTILY glad to bid January goodbye. (It's my blog. I can be as punny as I want) Mind now, this January is not anything like the bleak gloomy stretch of coldness that last January was - but it had it's own collection of anxiety creating burdens. I knew it was going to be a demanding month and clung tightly to my mantra word for 2015:

And what do you know - everything has turned out just fine. I'm all ready to jump into

And not just because of the chocolates and flowers thing. I am just ready to get going. It almost feels like New Year's Day to me since I am finished with DOOTY and ready to be CREATIVE! But first, ThePrince and I took a last day of January trip to my favorite tourist town in the world - Colonial Williamsburg.

I have loved this place since the first time I ever saw it - way back in Miss Cassida's 4th grade. I was a romantic little history lover anyway and cherished my history book more than anything that crossed my desk that year. I dreamed of being a little colonial girl in a bouffant skirt with a mob cap and apron. I longed to run up and down a dirt street with a hoop and a stick and when I found an old bicycle wheel lying about I did just that - though on tar roads since we lived in the Chesterfield suburbs of Richmond.

Throughout the 80's and 90's and even into the 00's I was a regular visitor to CW but once Marcel Desaulniers, The Death by Chocolate Guy, sold The Trellis, somehow going to CW had lost a bit of its glamour, its excitement. Imagine my delight when I discovered just yesterday (?!?!) that he's opened up a new restaurant - Mad About Chocolate - in my happy place!

But I digress.

What really struck me yesterday was how HAPPY I was to be walking down Duke of Gloucester Street again. How much it felt like coming home. How it reminded me of the time I was in Bath, England and stepped up on the square in front of Bath Abbey - and burst into tears - because my bones, my soul, remembered that place. It's a sort of quake that shakes you from your shoulders to your legs - that sense of knowing - of being back in a familiar place. It was a surprise in Bath because I had not ever been there before. It was a warm reminder yesterday, because I already knew I was in a beloved place. And I do not care if it's mostly recreated. I do not care. I do not hear you. La La La. Colonial Williamsburg is my alter home. So there.    

The intention was to dine at The Old Chickahominy House Restaurant but we were naive enough to think we could pop in on a January Saturday and find a table.  That wasn't happening so we decided we'd go back on a week day ... after we'd called and made a reservation.  Instead we went to the Japanese restaurant back on Old Richmond Road where I ate way (way) too many calories - I did not know you could get deep fat fried sushi. My Bad. They're Good.

And after that, ThePrince and his TheQueen hoofed it into the old part of town and walked all around in the chilly winter air. And we talked. And we laughed. And we reminisced. And we just had an all round fantastic time.

And I vowed that I was going to get a season pass and come back enough times to make it a deal instead of an expense. Because I love me some Colonial Williamsburg. It has my permission to capture me and hold me prisoner.

As we headed back to the car, the very sky promised me I would be welcome back, with a sun dog, above the rooftops of William and Mary. Yes.  I will be back. 

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