at least one fun thing

This weekend I earned myself the nickname "Constablogger," as in "Oh Constablogger... you're at it again!"  (A fond overture, I hope.)  Not because I was actually consta-blogging in the cybersphere, as you may have noticed, but I mentally consta-blogged EVERYTHING--so this could get long.  But I hope you'll love the weekend as much as I did.  Read on!

The highlight, of course, was Audrey's visit.  This just colored everything sunny and wonderful.

To the Delaware River!

Before I get to that, though, I've got to put in my customary plug for Bishop's Coffee.  On Friday I stopped in for lunch (the most delicious bowl of chili I have ever eaten) and the guys said, "Hey, where you been?"  I commented on T.'s mustache and he explained that he was growing it for charity--specifically, a children's grief center called Supporting Kidds, incidentally located right across the street from my work.  First of all, I am SO down with this charity (see my brief consideration of a career grief counseling, c. 2009) and second of all, mustaches are hilarious.  Coffeeshopcrush came in halfway through my lunch, so I ran to grab The Princess Bride out of my car before heading back to work, successfully leaving my cell phone on the table and managing to not say one single thing to anyone on my way out because I was so flustered.  And everyone was looking at me like an alien had just exploded out of my sternum.

It occurred to me that the book has my full name inside the cover, so if anyone were to do his due diligence (i.e. internet stalking) he would quickly discover my careful documentation of the Coffeeshopcrush Saga.  Blushing like crazy right now.  But I have since gotten behind myself on that front, because really it is, at the very least, a fun storyline.  Plus, this phenomenon is part of the American Dream.  Which I am not ashamed to be living.

Speaking of the American Dream, I had to work both jobs on Friday, so my mom graciously picked Audrey up from the bus station and they apparently hit it off.  (Is anyone surprised?)  They made dinner together and when I got home we all sat around the dinner table, Mutti, Papa, Maria and her boyfriend, Grampi, Audrey and me (Asha was at a friend's house).  The way I always wanted to eat supper, all crammed in, with some non-nuclear family members squeezed in there, with multiple sub-conversations going on and hilarity everywhere.  We sat there for hours exchanging stories between the generations and laughing like you'd never seen before.  Divine.

We of course stayed up way too late, drinking and watching Friends With Benefits, which is fantastic, and talking in the dark 'til all hours.  So the next day we dawdled over blueberry pancakes and leftover quiche, and headed out to do "at least one fun thing."  Destination: Historic New Castle.

We unknowingly stumbled into the Old Town's Spirit of Christmas celebration, which meant there was music on the streets in spite of the cold.  Shops boasted discounts, restaurants boasted special hours or menu items, classic homes opened their doors to visitors, tour guides in colonial garb welcomed us to historical interest points.

Again by accident, we ended up in the foyer of the Van Dyke House on Delaware Avenue, a giant old mansion previously inhabited by 17th century Delaware statesman Nicholas Van Dyke.  There was a wedding, "rumored to have happened" in the sitting room, in which the bride was given away by the Marquis LaFayette.  A portrait of his portrait hangs over the mantel in that same room--the original can be found in the White House.  The dining room was set with the same heavy, ornate dishware that set it when director Peter Weir stayed there while directing Dead Poets' Society.  Audrey and I flipped out when we learned this.  I didn't know DPS was filmed in Delaware.  That movie propelled my adolescence.  First point gained by the First State this weekend.  (Also, Robin Williams sometimes sat at that dinner table while discussing the movie.  Audrey was really in conniptions about this.)

The current owner of the Van Dyke House told us about The Castle, or Lesley-Travers Mansion, and gave us very vague directions to get there.  So we set off in search of the Presbyterian Church and its free historical open house maps, and ended up instead in the original New Castle Courthouse.

If you ever look at a map of Delaware, you might notice that its northwest border makes a perfect semicircle.  The very top tip of this courthouse is the center of that circle.  I think it's a 15-mile radius.

Inside, the courthouse looks like the set for a stage production of The Crucible.  The walls sport portraits of important historical figures: Peter Stuyvesant, last director-general of New Amsterdam, now NYC; William Penn in armor at age 22--the first and last portrait of this famous Quaker convert; and Virginia Governor Thomas West, titled Lord De La Warr, in whose honor the British dubbed the local Native American tribe, the river, and the First United State of America.  This building houses an incredible amount and array of historical moments.  The colonially-dressed tour guides greeted us jovially and told us stories about Delaware falling first into Dutch hands, then Swedish, then Dutch again, then British, and then becoming the first state to ratify the American Constitution!  (As Midwestern college grads, we were particularly interested in the Swedish occupation and their Fort Christina, named after the popular 15th-century child queen.)  All four of these flags hang outside the courthouse and on the flagpole on the Delaware River:

Flanked by the wild roses that stubbornly greeted us at every turn,
even in the chill of December.

By the time we left the courthouse we were getting hungry again, but we decided to walk to the river and then work our way back into town.  The river was beautiful (even though I told Audrey a million times it was the ocean--false) but it was weird to see Jersey's factories spewing black smoke into the air just across the water.

"Send out a signal, I'll throw you a line..."

We had taken a mental note on our way in to have lunch at Jack's Bistro, which advertised beer chili and local craft beers--both good things, obviously.  So we made our way back there and it was the best idea ever.  We asked about the craft beers in such detail that our server said, "Hang on, let me go get a beer guide."

I was expecting a sheet of paper or a brochure or something, but instead a man in business casual approached our table and listed their featured local beers: Dominion Oak Barrel Stout (they also make a delicious root beer with pure honey, which we got to try), 16 Mile Amber Sun Ale, Dogfish 90-Minute IPA, and another really hoppy one we both blocked out completely because it sounded so bitter.  We got the stout, which had this smooth vanilla bean aftertaste, and the amber sun ale, which was good but paled in comparison to the stout (literally--ha, ha).  Who would have thought I would be turning into a dark beer kind of girl?

Also, does anyone know if lip prints on glasses can be used to identify people?

Audrey and I were enjoying ourselves, and our beer and our food, so much that it seemed like half the waitstaff was hovering unnecessarily in our area, lingering over table arrangements and such.  We got a triple recommendation for the mascarpone cheesecake, and swooned over it, swooned over our server and swooned over the beer and the beer guide.  Lots of swooning going on.  (How do you get that job, anyway?)  We lingered so long it was 4:00 by the time we left there and the festivities were all winding down.

We decided to wander quickly through the streets in search of The Castle.  Aturret teased us through the neighborhood, peeking occasionally between houses and trees, but ultimately it eluded us, and all we found was this:

Sounds like part of a frat house liturgy, but I think it's just a warehouse company...

I had to work again on Saturday, but after I got home we decided to go out downtown, to Chelsea Tavern, recommended to me by Coffeeshopcrush.  We found it on Market Street, and debated far too long over whether the parking spot we found was actually a parking spot or not...  And then we entered, and we were suddenly surrounded by young adults in Santa hats.

Turns out we had walked into the middle of Wilmington's Santa Crawl, specifically a sect of Rugby Men in Hats.  It's too bad we didn't know about it ahead of time.  They explained it all to us and invited us to jump on their bus, but we had just bought drinks so we said we'd catch up with them.  A really nice girl who was with them told us they were headed to Trolley, so we finished our G&Ts and set off.

The problem is, we didn't know where Trolley Square was.  We tried to follow the Santa Crawl buses but kept getting stuck at red lights while they zoomed on through.  After several variations on a loop around Market Street, we gave up and stopped at Shenanigans, right at the bottom of the hill.

This turned out to be the best decision ever.  Shenanigans is the type of place where the old jukebox has been refurbished and there are dartboards everywhere and the linoleum floor is chipped and scuffed.  The type of place where the bartender (originally from Ireland) tops off your pint when it's looking low.  Maybe I'm behind the boat on this one, but he told us that Yuengling is the oldest brewed beer in America, which is cool.  Audrey had never even tasted it before.  And not so long ago, I used to hate Yuengling.

"It's not every day I pour the last bit of Cuervo for anyone..." - Irish bartender
Note: This is not a drunk photo--we were just laughing too hard to hold still.

We decided around 12:30 that it was time to move on.  The bartender gave us souvenir Shenanigans stress-ball footballs for being out-of-state, despite my DE driver's license.  The guys had given us vague directions to Trolley, so we decided to give it one more shot (not the alcoholic kind--unrelated to the photo) and, if that failed, to go home.

Of course we ended up driving around for at least another half hour, and ended up in some secluded parking lot with no clear affiliated establishment, so thought we'd better hightail it home.

I was sad to drop Audrey off at the bus station on that beautiful Sunday afternoon, but I felt so rejuvenated to have had her here.  My mom even said she was a pick-me-up for the whole house.  One of our themes for the weekend was that we want to work on infusing life into our families, the same way we do into our jobs and our friends.  This takes work!  And it's so easy to get complacent, to hole up on our own in these houses full of people we love, instead of feeding energy into making healthy, happy homes and families.  This is a common danger of ministry, we have seen, and a common downfall of extroverts like ourselves.

But our gift exchange is fulfilling, this trading spontaneous visits and meals and sweatpants and pillow talk.  Audrey brought a flood of rare affection to my life, as usual, and the weekend seemed to just float along like the wind through sea grass and river waves.  So easy, so comfortable, so lovely.  And as usual, we worked through some important things together.

Plus, this weekend sealed the deal for me on Delaware.  I want to keep my George-Washington-the-Explorer hat on and forge the Delaware River for myself, meet the ghosts, drink the beers, and talk the talk. It's happening.  I'm investing.  I'm going to live up to my driver's license.

First step, I should probably get some license plates to match.