Any weekend with random historic ruins is an automatic +3
This morning it's the good tired, the kind that results from entertaining out-of-state visitors for the weekend. Justin and Carly are online friends that hypnagogie made through her work with EFT couples therapy, and they stopped with us for a few days as the eastern terminus of a long road trip. Wonderful people, who we clicked with in that way you hope long-distance chat friends will click when you finally get to meet them. This meant several days engaging in the time-honored activity of Doing the Touristy Things We Don't Normally Do Because We Live Here So Why Bother, which was even better since we didn't really know what the touristy things even are. Spoiler: We do now.
Friday: Guests arrived in late afternoon and were plied with homemade pork chops forestière and Manhattans before crashing in the guest room/gym/YouTube studio/library/etc. (read: tiny room for all the stuff we have no space for elsewhere).
Saturday: Ceremonial trip to Dog Bar Jim's, the hippy ramshackle coffeehouse that is our standard Saturday morning haunt, followed by the grand walking tour of Brunswick, followed closely by them checking into their inn and everyone basically passing out for a few hours. We reconvened for dinner at Noble Kitchen, which did not disappoint. I forget what I ordered, but it was amazing, and the sticky toffee pudding for dessert tried its squishy damnedest to murder us from the serotonin centers down.
Sunday: Proof that sometimes the best-laid plans of mice and men need to be shot down for the greater good. After an exemplary diner breakfast where we actually got a table without waiting (it helps when the lunatics you're meeting with got up at like 4:30 to go hiking), the plan was to hit a beach, any beach. Now, in Maine, the word "beach" usually requires a set of air quotes around it, because there's more rocks than sand and you're certainly not going to risk hypothermia for a brisk dip in the North Atlantic. But Justin and Carly wanted view more than sun-bake, so we did a little hunt-and-peck to find the best choice. Attempt #1 was right in town, but it was low-tide marsh-skanky so we bailed to try our next option, Popham Beach. This one is a legit beach with sand and everything, but the side trip meant we got there just as they were putting out the "PARKING LOT FULL" barricade. Thanks, gods of hubris.
So. Undeterred and in a good mood, we kept going down the road to see if there was maybe some overflow parking, and that's how we found the little round lot next to a pier, a stunning view of the mouth of the Kennebec, and oh yeah, the ruins of a Civil War-era fort. This would be Fort Popham, one of those touristy things we didn't know about and absolutely the coolest thing we could have randomly found that day. Most of the fort is still standing, with cannon windows still intact, and we basically had free rein to explore both stories of the thing, as well as the third-floor observation turret with a spiral staircase to the top. "Free rein" included at least one interior room where there was literally no light, and no signs warning us to stay out or anything, so we went poking in with phone lights unhindered. Justin and Carly, braver than me, stayed in there for a bit with flashlights off, and said they couldn't see each other even when they were close enough to hold hands. A classic "eaten by a grue" scenario.
Me: [warily] You guys okay in there?
Them: Yep, we're fine!
Me: THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT A MIMIC WOULD SAY.
And yes, there was a beach, just off the far end of the main one but separated by a section of rocks that we had to scale down a bit which meant we had a much smaller crowd to contend with. We'd brought fruit and snacks, so aside from one toe-numbing wade into the waves we just sat on our blankets in the sand and appreciated the everything. A seal was spotted not more than 60 yards away, and a crab came up to introduce themselves during the ankle dip. From there, another nap crash, and then they treated us to seafood in South Portland because Carly was not going to leave Maine without at least one lobster in her. We got a table on the waterfront overlooking the city, and the most perfect cinematography-level sunset ended the meal as if someone had scripted this whole affair.
As I type this, our friends are back on the road, and life is back to whatever we're calling normal. Fantastic weekend overall, better than I could have hoped. And yes, I made them a playlist because I can't help myself.