What Does GPS Stand For?

Getting Pretty Stranded....

Gorgeous Pine Stand...

On our way out of Acadia, we try to stop in the town of Ellsworth at the AAA office so that Anthony can get an international drivers' license for when we rent cars in Europe (which is not entirely kosher, but that's a whole other posting). Anyway, the GPS takes us directly to...this spot. Apparently, we are not the only ones to find ourselves on an Oak Street that is not in town but, rather, in the middle of the actual oaks. The lady at the AAA is able to give us better directions over the phone, and eventually we get there.

The town of Ellsworth has an excellent California/gourmet/creative/not-authentic-but-highly-delicious burrito shop called "86 This!" where we stop for lunch after the AAA errand is done. So GPS could also stand for Gorging on Pollo & Salsa. That's a taste we miss in Paris!

 

Extreme Sports: Hairbrushing Edition

We have just arrived from France -- trading in Paris when things are shut down and friends are out of town for loads of family and friends in Boston. And a swimming pool.

 

By the way, don't be fooled for one second that those girls are sleeping on the plane. Rather, they are having fun trying on their free sleep masks -- for about 20 seconds -- and then watching six solid hours of free, personal TV. So much TV, so much airplane kid food, and so little sleep, in fact, that Gigi throws up into a barf bag when we land. We're off to a great start!

So, naturally, one of the first things we do in Boston is indulge in a new extreme sport: hairbrushing. Pippa has forgotten her brush in Paris (took it out of their already-packed luggage at the last second and forgot to put it back, so don't go pointing fingers my way). She borrows an extra one from my mom that happens to be a round, wiry-bristled blow-dryer brush. I do not realize that it takes a certain skill to use these brushes, which will show you how many times in my life I've bothered to blow dry my hair. So no, I am not actually trying to get the brush through her hair in this photo. What I am doing is working with my dad -- who has taken a momentary break just to step behind the camera -- to get the brush out of her hair. It is so stuck that it takes the two of us working together about an hour to get it out. This is accomplished by my father plucking each bristle out individually with a pliers, and then me delicately unhooking it from her hair. Once we have plucked the entire brush clean, we gently loosen the hair from around it and pull out the blue handle. Then I get the fun of actually combing and brushing through the resulting rat's nest.