The Continuing Adventures of Heather and Bekah
If you haven't read the previous post yet, you should read it before this one.
On Saturday morning, we slept in, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of pastries and cereal among the basset hounds and their owners, and casually made our way to the Summit Lake Retreat Center for our training session. Plenty of time to spare. That is, until we actually arrived at the retreat center. We got lost. How do you get lost at a retreat center that basically encircles a lake? With every turn, we found ourselves staring at dead ends or signs warning us "maintenance vehicles only past this point." And somehow, we think we are perfect candidates for Amazing Race...
The retreat session went great! I love hanging out with leaders who are hungry to learn and grow. Good times.
After our session- Lunch. I was determined to eat some good BBQ, so we made our way to Chubby's. Not in the physical sense (I made my physical way to Chubby several years ago). Chubby's as in the restaurant, if you can call it a restaurant. It's one of those great BBQ joints where your fork and knife are brought in paper wrappers and a sticky vinyl "tablecloth" protects the treasured wooden table underneath.
At the top of the menu, we read, "Best BBQ on earth. There is one place you can get better BBQ, but you have to die before you get it." I figured they were referring to Heaven. I guess they could have been talking about the Hot Place, but that never really crossed my mind. Some of the ridiculous concoctions I have spent good money on that claimed to be BBQ belong in the Hot Place. But I gave them the benefit of the doubt and assumed Heaven. But that raises a theological conundrum, does it not? Pulled pork is not exactly kosher, and I'm not sure which Levitical laws will be in play in Heaven. Bekah pointed out that there might be another form of BBQ, like, oh, say...unicorn. I suggested perhaps gryphon, to which she offered Sasquatch. Nessie? Anybody up for a little BBQ Nessie?
Moving along to the next chapter of our trip. On the previous day, we noticed signs strewn along Highway 15...about every quarter mile... "New Potatoes." "Crunchy Apples." "Oh my." "Small is beautiful." "Small farmers love their work." "Come taste the love." "Do you like pottery?" "We have pottery!" "Come meet the potters!" "You know you need a mug!" Well, who could resist that. So we went to see some pottery and bought some jam for ourselves and some apple butter for Pastor Chris.
Finally...back to DC. At least headed in that direction. Until Bekah realizes that the statue of Mary at the college of Mount St. Mary's is gold. And big. When I saw a sign for Our Lady of Lourdes grotto, I swerved into the next lane to make the exit. I am a sucker for any kind of meditation garden of anglo-catholic-orthodox flavor. Bring on some Stations of the Cross. Bekah would have preferred to visit another potter, methinks. As I tried to somewhat reverently observe the stations of the cross, the soundtrack of my prayers was a consistent "flip. flop. flip. flop." Bekah had brown sparkly flip flops that doubled as a percussion section. Deciding that prayer was just not going to work on this particular day, I transitioned into sightseeing mode. The statue of Mary is indeed huge. I'll give you that. Huge. But when we walked by it, through the throngs of beautiful African pilgrims, Bekah proclaimed, "Geez. That's the hugest statue of Mary I've ever seen." Thank you for your commentary.
And I think that's pretty much the end. 24 hours. Basset hounds, Civil War ghosts, potters, Mary statues (of the huge variety), mini-golf, high fives, and Druids. It was a good weekend.