Project 365: Days 309-315

309/365: David and I ate dinner at the Meatball Shop on the UWS and then had drinks at a bar that was full of board games. We played one round of Jenga before realizing that we did it wrong (we weren't stacking the blocks we took out back on top), so we had to play again. I forgot how stressful and surprisingly fun it is to play a game that is so objectively simple.

310/365: My friend Jim was in town and we had dinner at Dinosaur BBQ in Harlem. Their fried green tomatoes are so good that I checked to see if they deliver to my apartment (they do, but not the tomatoes—whyyy not??).

311/365: We had a perfect adventure day in the Bronx, despite the rain, and explored the Bronx Community College (home to the first Hall of Fame in the country) and had pizza and cannoli on Arthur Avenue, aka "the real Little Italy."

312/365: When I first moved into this apartment, I thought this ledge was wasted space but I obviously haven't had a hard time filling it and now I can't imagine this space without it. Also, nothing on here is a "Halloween" decoration and it will probably look like this all year long.

313/365: Part of my Halloween costume found a new home.

314/365: This diva has been acting slightly better lately but she's still the most dramatic cat I've ever met.

315/365: My library holds are quickly piling up, but I'm most excited about this one. I'd been wanting to read a book about Joseph Lister for a while, and if this book is half as good as its cover then I'm in for a treat.

It's supposed to be cold here this weekend—which I don't mind. I don't have any huge plans, but I'm thinking maybe a movie (Lady Bird?), a diner breakfast and the Canstruction exhibit. I also want to buy a new winter coat and shoes, although I really hate shopping (especially in New York). I'm itching to explore another abandoned building soon, but that would involve driving somewhere—staying snuggled on the couch seems much more appealing to me right now. I just finished Stranger Things 2 (so good! I cried!) and Mindhunter is up next in the queue. I hope you enjoy your weekend, whether it's adventurous or snuggly (or both!). Happy Friday!

Dinosaur Land

We were lucky to have really lovely weather for the first two days of our recent road trip, but the last two days were grey and intermittently rainy. I had planned most of our stops in advance, knowing that we might not be able to hit them all and I tried to account for the possibility of unplanned stops. On the fourth day, we drove through some heavy, steady rain and I scrambled to find indoor things for us to do. I decided to swap the outdoor Dinosaur Land with an indoor parade float museum, but we arrived at Shenandoah caverns only to discover that the museum had already closed for the season (thanks for nothing, Google hours!). It was still raining, but I decided that we should at least give Dinosaur Land a chance, and it ended up being one of my very favorite stops of the entire trip (I will probably say that about every stop, but this one is in the top five for sure). 

Dinosaur Land, located near Winchester, Virginia has been in operation (and in the same family) since the early '60s. It's not my first dinosaur park—we went to Dinosaur World in Cave City, KY—but I can't imagine there being a better one still in existence. Most everything about Dinosaur World feels stuck in the '60s, and that is the very best compliment I can pay to any roadside attraction.

It was still raining when we arrived, but the "prehistoric forest" offered some protection, and the pine needle-lined paths were far less soggy than I expected. Unfortunately we weren't the only visitors, but as much as I firmly believe that other people's children ruin everything, I'm always happy to see attractions like this making money. 

Dinosaur Land feels as if it might be in someone's backyard, and I'm fairly certain that at least some of the family lives behind the gift shop. The experience is low-tech and self-guided—my favorite kind—and the artistry that went into the dinosaurs, hand painted signs and other creatures is apparent. It's clear that dinosaurs have been added throughout the years, and it's fascinating to watch how styles and features evolve over time.

Dinosaur Land has four T-Rexes, and none of them look remotely similar to one another—I overheard a little boy telling his dad while looking at the oldest one, "that doesn't look anything like a T-Rex." Although we'll probably never know which one is the most accurate, the oldest ones are definitely my favorite. You can spot them quite easily—they're textured like the walls of an Olive Garden—and I can't help but laugh when looking at their goofy expressions. 

When Joseph Geraci started Dinosaur Land next to his already existing gift shop, he borrowed heavily from other parks—his sign is a nearly exact copy of the Disneyland sign, and the large mouth entrance is a nod to Gatorland. The gift shop alone is worth a stop, and it's filled with dusty souvenirs that feel as if they haven't been updated (or sold) since the park first opened.

I was slightly more restrained than I was at South of the Border, but I did leave with a mug, t-shirt, two squished pennies, several postcards and a program book that was legitimately printed in the '70s—the cashier said they had five boxes in the back and "when they're gone, they're gone."

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Dinosaur Land
3848 Stonewall Jackson Highway
White Post, VA 22663

March 1st – Memorial Day: 9:30 a.m. – 5:30 p.m.
Memorial Day – Labor Day: 9:30 a.m. – 6:00 p.m.
Labor Day – December 31st: 9:30 a.m. – 5:00 p.m.
October 1st – December 31st: Closed on Thursdays

Wayne County Home Cemetery

Before I make a trip back home to Ohio, I make sure and scour Kaylah's archives over at her blog, The Dainty Squid for potential creepy adventures to have while I'm in town. Kaylah has discovered (and beautifully photographed) so many places around Ohio (and surrounding states) that I never knew existed in the 27 years that I called Ohio home, and I'll be forever playing catch-up on my short visits. 

One place that I added to my list the second I saw her post on it was the Wayne County Home Cemetery in Wooster, Ohio. I had recently visited my first cemetery for institutionalized patients—Letchworth Village's cemetery, in Rockland County, NY—and I've always been fascinated by asylums, institutions and their (often) anonymous grave markers. 

The nearby Wayne County home was established in 1852 for the elderly, sick and homeless. In the 1930s, a county hospital and nurses' home were built on the grounds, which comprises 286 acres of farmland in rural Northeast Ohio. Like the Staten Island Farm Colony, the Wayne County Home was nearly self-sufficient until the '70s with a dairy, gardens and a working farm. The Home was renamed the Wayne County Care Center in 1983 and it is currently operating as a nursing home. 

Despite knowing that the cemetery is easily accessible and surrounded by cornfields, I was still surprised when it seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the middle of miles of farmland. There is no dedicated parking lot, but there is a gravel turnaround across the street, so I parked there and no one seemed to mind. I don't usually get too sad at human cemeteries (pet cemeteries are an entirely different‚ and more emotional, experience for me) but I mourn the anonymity of these people's death's—and in a lot of cases, their lives.

South of the Border: Night

Back in June, when I was laying on the ground in a tent, dying of an undetermined illness two days into a four-day hike of the Inca Trail, all I could think of was South of the Border. Not actual Mexico, but the Mexican-themed roadside attraction just south of the North Carolina/South Carolina border in Dillon, South Carolina. That might seem like an odd thing to be thinking about after I just emptied my stomach and my bowels into a hole in the ground most generously referred to as a "toilet." But! I had been wanting to go to South of the Border for a while and despite the fact that I hadn't been able to find anyone willing to go with me, I vowed that I would make it there somehow before the end of 2017.

Our Peru/Colombia trip was 14 days, and was wonderful for a lot of reasons—and kind of awful for a few other reasons—but after I got back I knew that I was going to put a pause on international travel for a while and concentrate on the US destinations that I had been longing to see. South of the Border had ascended to the top of that list after I knocked off a few others—a Wigwam Motel, Lucy the Elephant, The Big Duck—and when my friend Jim went in May I was literally seething with jealousy (in a nice way, especially after he sent me the kindest souvenir package to hold me over until I could visit on my own).

Soon after returning to the states, I was having breakfast with my mom when I mentioned that wherever the rest of the year took me, I was going to make sure to get to South of the Border—even if I had to go alone. She immediately said, "I'll go with you!" followed by "What's that?" Once I explained, she was thankfully still on board and we decided to go in the beginning of October. Our road trip spanned four days—with us arriving and staying at South of the Border on the second night—and took us through nine states. We made around 30 stops and I hate to pick favorites but of course South of the Border was the standout.

We arrived after dark, and I had booked a room so that we could see it both at night, and during the day. Although both views have their charms, South of the Border really shines at night (literally) and I brought my tripod along in hopes that I would be able to capture at least a tiny bit of its neon magic. We were there in the off-season, so it was nearly deserted—just as I'd hoped. We ate dinner at the Sombrero Restaurant (confusingly not housed in the building shaped like a sombrero, which is a steakhouse) and our waitress was straight out of Central Casting (Hi Betsey!). The salad bar, however, is shaped like a sombrero, and we shared a BLT (meh) and jalapeño poppers (always a good decision).

After dinner, we went into one of the several gift shops where I very quickly spent nearly $100 on entirely essential souvenirs—floaty pens, flip flops, a t-shirt, an ashtray, a notebook, magnets, coasters, a mug, a cup and a Christmas ornament—and then ventured out with my camera. Because it was late and nearly empty, I was able to really take my time and try my best to capture the bright neons that have been beckoning motorists to pull over since 1950. 

Muffler Man: White's Tire

For this edition of Muffler Man Monday, you get two for the price of one! When my mom agreed to take this road trip with me, she knew that our main destination was South of the Border, but she asked that I keep all of the other stops a surprise. I personally hate surprises but I do love being in control, so it was really fun to be able to experience her anticipation without any of the anxiety of not knowing where we were headed. After seeing a few Muffler Men, that became her first guess for every stop, but even when she was right, she was always surprised by the different types (and to be honest, after planning so many stops, so was I). 

Both men are at White's Tire locations, exactly a mile apart in Wilson, North Carolina. The first Muffler Man stands on top of the roof, at a location that is currently closed and for sale. I'm glad that the Muffler Man is still standing so that we were able to see him, but I wonder if he will be sold along with the building or moved to one of White's other locations. He looks slightly different than other Muffler Men we've seen but I'm not sure if that's because of his paint job or his stubby legs.

The second Muffler Man is at a much larger location that is very much still in business. He is definitely more traditional than the first, and obviously well-maintained. He also holds a tire in his hand, and I think it's funny that the shear size of these giants make normal-sized tires appear as if they're almost miniature.

He's waving to traffic and potential customers, but my mom pointed out that he sort of also looks like he might be doing a Nazi salute? Maybe it's just the current (garbage) political climate or the pairing with "White's Tire" but now this arm style has been sort of tainted for me. I wish they could somehow be modified to look more like the Muffler Man at Trader's World, who is sporting a much friendlier wave. 

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White's Tire Muffler Man #1
740 Goldsboro Street SW
Wilson, North Carolina
Location closed and for sale, but Muffler Man still visible

White's Tire Muffler Man #2
701 Hines Street S
Wilson, North Carolina
Location is open and Muffler Man is easily accessible

Project 365: Days 302-308

302/365: I walked around the Upper East Side on my lunch break, photographing all of the spooky Halloween decorations.

303/365: We spent a lazy Saturday sleeping in, walking around Green-Wood, picking out our pumpkins and buying David a last-minute costume.

304/365: We carved our pumpkins and I forced David to watch Hocus Pocus (his first time!).

305/365: I put the finishing touches on my costume.

306/365: I debuted my costume at the Halloween parade. In case you're not familiar with Grandmother's Predictions, they're fortune-telling machines, like Zoltar but older (and way better, in my opinion). They were made by the William Gent Vending Company in Cleveland Ohio in the late '20s and early '30s. There is one at Coney Island, and I decided that this was the perfect costume for me about a year ago. Of course, I didn't start actually making it until about a week ago, but I'm pleased with how it turned out. It was much more comfortable than I expected, and help up surprisingly well through two subway rides, one bar and a whole lot of walking. We took tons of photos with people, gave away about a hundred fortunes and the next morning my photo was included in a costume round-up on Gothamist (RIP).

307/365: My friend Shannon always sends me the sweetest Halloween goodies—this year it was a box filled with delicious ghost candies, the cutest wiener dog card and this ghost bag that I will most definitely use all year.

306/365: I couldn't bear to throw out my costume but I live in a teeny-tiny studio so I wasn't sure where I would store it. Luckily, it fits above my fridge and I think my skeleton is an excellent stand-in for me. I had to sacrifice an area of valuable storage, but where there's a will, there's a way.

My friend Jim is in town this weekend for his first New York visit since he moved to LA in April. I've missed him more than words can say, so I'm thrilled to be able to spend some time with him, even if it's a woefully brief visit. He'll be staying with me in my shoebox apartment for two nights (my first guest!), and I'm hoping Mozart miraculously behaves.

I can't believe it's November already—it was chilly for a minute but warm again today—and the leaves in the city are changing at a glacial pace. I don't have grand plans for Thanksgiving, but now that the Halloween costume madness has ended, I might try to come up with a fun themed dessert or other dish to contribute. This is my favorite time of year and I'm trying my best to savor it! Have a great weekend!

This is Halloween

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I love Halloween. I've always appreciated the creativity and craftiness of making my own costumes, and my everyday aesthetic could be best described as macabre. I wear ghost socks and decorate with skulls year-round, so October is the one month of the year where it all syncs up. 

I'm disappointed that this is the first year since 2013 that I'm not throwing a BooZy brunch. I moved into a studio and have literally no space for visitors. As much as I love living alone (seriously, it's the best), I felt a little lost this year not having party prep on the agenda. I did the next best thing, however, and channeled all of my Halloween energy into making a very complicated and unwieldy costume, which I will debut tonight at the Village Halloween parade (and hopefully it won't hobble me for days afterward). 

I did take all of my decorations with me in the move—they constitute an embarrassing percentage of my overall belongings—but they'll stay packed away until my next party (whenever that may be). Luckily, New Yorkers have been good about getting into the spirit(s) this year, and my walk from the bus stop to work every morning has been filled with ghoulish delights. 

I'm not sure what it's like in other parts of the city (decorations are sparse in my Harlem neighborhood), but residents of the Upper East Side take Halloween very seriously. It's also interesting to me to see literal multi-million dollar mansions covered in spiderwebs and severed plastic limbs, but that's exactly the kind of rich person I would be.

I have no concrete evidence of this, but they probably pay someone to decorate for them—like some of the Dyker Heights lights displays—and if so, how do I get this job?? Regardless of how they get there, I love all of the spooky kitsch—skeletons, tiny bats, elaborate mannequins—and will always appreciate the humor and effort behind it all.

Happy Halloween!

Project 365: Days 295-301

295/365: Sick day with this excellent mug (a belated birthday gift from my friend and protest buddy, Carli).

296/365: After a quick brunch, I took a wandering walk around the Upper West Side and stopped at Columbus Circle to watch the pigeons playing in this fountain. 

297/365: We spent a beautiful (and warm!) fall day in Sleep Hollow.

298/365: I love this silly keychain from Greenwich Letterpress.

299/365: Having a working stove again means one thing: apple cramble! These hedgehog measuring cups aren't the most practical, but they make me smile. 

300/365: This book is so good I missed my bus stop because I was so into it.

301/365: More Halloween costume prep. 

I don't have plans for this weekend other than to finish my (very complicated) costume. I'm planning on going to the Halloween parade on Tuesday, so it has to be ready by then. I have a history of overly-complicated, unsexy and unwieldy costumes, and this year is no different. After an unseasonably warm October, it seems as if it suddenly became fall yesterday, and I hope this chilly weather is here to stay. It's the most wonderful time of the year—enjoy it!

Recent Reads

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Heads in Beds: A Reckless Memoir of Hotels, Hustles and So-Called Hospitality, by Jacob Tomsky

I got this book at a Goodwill for $1, and started reading it as my weekend book because it's a small paperback. There were some humorous anecdotes and helpful hints about Tomsky’s time working in luxury hotels, but the most eye-opening information was the fact that in most cases, you can steal robes or empty out the mini bar without consequence—a theory I’ll hopefully be brave enough to test in the future.

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We are Never Meeting in Real Life: Essays, by Samantha Irby

There were hundreds of holds on this collection of essays at the library, but I managed to get my copy fairly quickly (even the librarian that checked me out said she was something like 400th in line). I blew through this in two days and found myself laughing out loud on the bus more times than I usually allow myself. Irby is hilarious, and despite the title (and the hatred toward human interaction of any kind that we both share) I found myself wishing that we were best friends.

Her essays cover some pretty heavy subjects—the death of both of her parents, her sickly, demon cat Helen Keller (!!) and her aversion to almost everything—but I can't remember reading something so smart, so deftly worded and so damn funny in a very long time.

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Fever: A Novel, by Mary Beth Keane

I hesitate to say that I’m “obsessed with Typhoid Mary,” although if you’ve spent any time at all on this blog, that shouldn’t really come as a surprise. A few years ago I read a biography of Mary Mallon, written by Anthony Bourdain (she was a cook, after all) and last year I finally tracked down Mary’s final resting place in the Bronx.

Fever is a novel, but it is based on a very real person and covers the pursuit of Mallon—one of the first asymptomatic carriers of Typhoid to be discovered—by New York City sanitation engineer, George Soper, the resulting trial and her two separate stints in quarantine on North Brother Island. Keane fills in the gaps in the history with details of her own creation—Mallon’s on-again, off-again boyfriend Alfred is entirely fictitious—but those are the parts of the story I found myself enjoying the least. Mary Mallon was such an interesting character and the parts of her story that we know are fascinating enough without the addition of relationship drama and other domestic woes.

I’ve read that Elizabeth Moss is adapting Keane’s novel into a TV series, with Moss taking on the role of Mallon and I’ll definitely be watching for that. Hopefully it will satiate me while I patiently await a miracle that would allow me explore the now notoriously off-limits North Brother Island.

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Death's Summer Coat: What the History of Death and Dying Teaches Us About Life and Living, by Brandy Shillace

This book would be a good overview if you're interested in death rituals and the ways death culture in America has evolved through the years, but if you've read quite a lot in the death/dying genre (*raises hand*) you could probably skip this book. It wasn't all repeat information—I learned a few new things—and sometimes it is nice to read something that nicely ties together a lot of different threads throughout history.

The parts about the Resurrection Men (grave robbing / body snatching) were my favorite, and led me to put a few more books on my to-read list, which is always exciting. Coincidentally, I finished this book on my way to a lecture/book signing by Caitlin Doughty for her new book, From Here to Eternity, but I think I need to read a few books not about death before I dive into that one.

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Dead Presidents: An American Adventure in the Strange Deaths and Surprising Afterlives of Our Nation's Leaders, by Brady Carlson

This book showed up in my Goodreads feed and I immediately put it on hold at the library. I've been getting most of my holds very quickly—which means I'm reading things that literally no one else in the New York City library system cares about—but the instant gratification is a nice side effect of having strange tastes. There's almost no way I wasn't going to like a book like Dead Presidents—I'm fascinated by all things related to death and mourning practices and I also love history and seemingly superfluous facts about famous people.

It was an easy, fun read and I couldn't help but think about how the current President will one day be memorialized (the idea of a Trump "library" is laughable, at best). Thanks to this book, I've added a bunch of Presidential graves to my list for future Ohio trips and a return trip to Grant's Tomb (the largest mausoleum in North America!) is also imminent now that I live just a few blocks away again.

Charter Street Cemetery

Also called the Old Burying Point, or sometimes just the Burying Point, the Charter Street Cemetery was established in 1637 as the first cemetery in Salem, Massachusetts. We went to Salem one year ago (argh why does time go by so quickly!) but I never got around to sharing my photos from the Charter Street Cemetery.

Salem in October is quite the experience—sometimes great, sometimes horrible—but the next time I go back it will probably be in the off-season. We expected crowds, of course, but what we didn't expect was that those crowds would be unruly—particularly in the cemetery. We saw children running around unattended, couples sitting on stones for selfies and families eating funnel cakes while perched on the markers of the Salem Witch Trials Memorial.

Overcrowding should not be seen as an open invitation to drop your sense of decency and respect for the deceased (not to mention the historic significance of the second oldest cemetery in America). Not everyone was horrible, of course, but we saw enough bad behavior that it still leaves an impression, even a year after the fact. That really is a shame, because the cemetery has some pretty famous residents and many wonderful tombstones.

It's the final resting place of Judge John Hathorne, the great-great-grandfather of Nathaniel Hawthorne and a prominent judge in the witch trials. Richard More is the only passenger of the Mayflower with a known gravesite—he died the same year as the witch trials, and he's buried here beneath a stone labeling him as a Mayflower Pilgrim.

Much like the Old Burial Hill to the south of Salem, the Charter Street Cemetery is filled with beautifully carved winged skulls, crossbones and cherubs. These will always be my favorite of the tombstone motifs—known as "memento mori," or "remember you must die." Some stones even spell this out, which I much prefer to the more passive and less challenging, Rest in Peace.

I don't want to discourage anyone from visiting Salem during October—if you love fall and Halloween, it's a must—but I do recommend trying to avoid the weekends closest to Halloween. The difference between a Sunday and a Monday was noticeable and we were able to do everything that was sold out and packed on the weekend on a Monday with relative ease. 

Sleepy Hollow, 2017

Before I ever moved to New York, I knew I wanted to visit Sleepy Hollow during October. I even put it on my silly list of things to do before I turn 30, and I crushed that goal. I'm now 32 and Sunday was my fourth (mostly) annual trip upstate to the village formerly known as North Tarrytown. 

I'm embarrassed to say that it took me far too long to read The Legend of Sleepy Hollow short story by Washington Irving. I don't know why I waited so long to pick it up—and the story is less than a hundred pages, so it only took me a day to read—but it definitely added to my enjoyment and appreciation of the area.

It might seem silly or pointless to revisit the same tiny town year, after year, but I'm always seeing something new. There is also a comfort to holiday rituals, and as soon as the leaves start to turn and I feel a chill in the air (something woefully missing this year—it was nearly 80 degrees on Sunday), I start looking forward to the fall pilgrimage. This year's group of adventurers included some newcomers, and it's nice to be able to introduce people to Sleepy Hollow and share the places that I've come to love so much. 

This year we spent the bulk of our time visiting two historic houses in the area—Washington Irving's Sunnyside and the Rockefeller estate, Kykuit—so we didn't have a lot of time to wander. We briefly peeked into the cemetery but unfortunately it had already closed for the day, and we ended the night screaming (and laughing) our way through the outdoor haunted maze, Horseman's Hollow. 

I love that the village of Sleepy Hollow has come to embrace their famous legend—the headless horseman is everywhere, showing up on their street signs, police uniforms, fire trucks and school mascots—and I would imagine that locals either absolutely love Halloween, or grow to hate the influx of visitors. Every year I find myself discovering a lovely house with a mansard roof, cornstalks tied to columns or pumpkins on a porch and thinking that it must be the most wonderful place in the world to call home—but living just an hour train ride away isn't too bad either. 

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Places to see: Kykuit // Sunnyside  // Lyndhurst // Union Church // Sleepy Hollow Cemetery

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Thing to do: Horseman's Hollow // The Great Jack-o-Lantern Blaze

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Places to eat: Horsefeathers

Muffler Man: Bunyan + Babe

Next up on the roster of Muffler Man we saw on our recent road trip is one of the Paul Bunyan varieties. This dapper lumberjack once stood outside of Stan the Tire Man in Salem, Illinois, but was moved to Battleboro, North Carolina in 2007. While in Illinois, he was accompanied by a UniRoyal Gal but she was sold and moved to California when Stan the Tire Man closed in 2015.

After he was moved to NC, this Bunyan traded his Gal for a Babe—Babe the Blue Ox, from the Paul Bunyan legend. The first Muffler Man I ever saw was a Bunyan-type at the Magic Forest, in Lake George, NY and I've seen a few more of the style since. Even though the thing I love most about Muffler Men is their ability to be customized and that they all look different as a result, the Bunyan is what I think of when I think of the quintessential Muffler Man.

This gentleman is wearing a knit cap and holding an axe—similar to the World's Fair giant we saw, also in Lake George—but I can't for the life of me figure out what is in Babe's mouth (my mom said, "is that an e-cigarette?"). They stand guard over the Original Log Cabin Homes sales center, and you can see them best while driving south on 1-95. We parked and walked right up to them, and although no one said anything to us, we did see a lady come out of the office ... and walk back inside when she realized we were more interested in Bunyan and Babe than in purchasing a log cabin home. 

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Original Log Cabin Homes
7677 N Halifax Road
Battleboro, NC 27809
A little tricky to get to, but no one seemed to mind us walking through the property

Project 365: Days 281-294

281/365: The second day of our road trip started off with the only disappointment of the whole trip—not being able to see this UniRoyal Gal in Rocky Mount, North Carolina (well, we could see her legs). She's behind a barbed wire-topped fence at a private men's club, but I think when the leaves drop she'll be more visible.

After that our luck was much better, and we ended the day arriving at heavenly roadside mecca South of the Border. I was taking a long exposure photo with my tripod in the middle of a driveway when I had to move to avoid getting hit by an oncoming car—this is the resulting photo and I think it's a pretty cool accident.

282/365: Despite what everyone told me about South of the Border (the good reviews, and the very bad) it managed to exceed all of my expectations. Before we left in the morning, we went up into the sombrero-shaped observation tower and surveyed my dream kingdom from above.

283/365: We had a gloomy, rainy road trip day but I'm so glad we didn't let the weather deter us from stopping at Dinosaur Land in Winchester, Virginia. It was easily one of my favorite stops of the whole trip and I left with a t-shirt, mug, brochure and two squished pennies.

284/365: I unpacked my souvenirs (I spent nearly $100 at the South of the Border gift shops oopsy). I don't smoke, but this ashtray is currently holding memory cards and squished pennies from our trip.

285/365: I went to Green-Wood Cemetery after work for a talk/book signing with Caitlin Doughty. I'm excited to read her new book, From Here to Eternity: Traveling the World to Find the Good Death, and frame the bonus poster I received for pre-ordering my book.

286/365: A few months later and Mozart is still obsessed with this toy.

287/365: David and I had two days off for Jewish holidays (our last of the season, sad!) and went backpacking/camping upstate in Harriman State Park. As we were walking to the trail head we came across this cute Sinclair Oil dinosaur just hanging out in someone's yard.

288/365: On our way home from Penn Station, I spotted this news stand that looks like it hasn't changed in decades.

289/365: There's no limit to my love of souvenir, novelty drinkware.

290/365: My mom and I took a tour of the Little Red Lighthouse for Open House NY weekend.

291/365: I broke down and bought an Instagram-trendy letterboard because I had a vision of an orange one just saying Boo! I'm going to paint the frame black, but it's already making me happy. 

292/365: This little diva had an entire open bed and decided to nap directly on top of my sweaters.

293/365: I went out to dinner with my friend Carli and we walked past a street of murals. This was part of one with an alligator and this "Snappy to Serve You" cup made me laugh.

294/365: After nearly a three-month ordeal that included two different stoves with two different gas leaks, I finally got a third stove and my landlord hooked it up. I'm no longer smelling gas and I have a working stove for the first time since I moved in to this apartment in August, so I'm ready to start making cramble!

Hills of Snow

We didn't see any Twistee Treats on our recent road trip, but we did eat a snowball served to us out of a building shaped like one, and it was a definite trip highlight. Hills of Snow, located in Smithfield, North Carolina, doesn't actually call their confections "snow cones," but just, "snow."

Opened in 1984 by Tom Hill (hence the name), the Hills of Snow building wasn't always shaped like it is now. It was originally just a regular structure, but a few years after opening, Hill personally built the snowball-and-cup-shaped building. There are also two smaller, mobile versions that sit in the parking lot behind the Big Ball (the family's name for the main structure) when they're not on the move.

I am literally never happier than when I'm eating or buying something from a building shaped like what it sells. I am absolutely obsessed with novelty architecture and I've managed to see a lot of the greats recently: Lucy the Elephant, the Big Duck, the Longaberger Basket, Orange World and—on this same trip—the Haines Shoe House and a Shell Gas Station. Hills of Snow probably isn't as well-known or historical as some of the others, but I love when people are clearly passionate about their products and don't take life too seriously.

The "snow" that you get from Hills of Snow is lighter, softer and fluffier than traditional shaved ice or granular snow cones. All of the syrups are made onsite—when they first opened they offered 20 flavors but now advertise 101 different choices. They serve "snow creams" (topped with sweetened condensed milk) and seasonal flavors, but I went with my standard lemon/cherry combo. It was delicious on its own, but even more so because it came from a building shaped like itself.

Little Red Lighthouse

Jeffrey's Hook Lighthouse, unofficially known as the Little Red Lighthouse, is located in Fort Washington Park right under the George Washington Bridge in Washington Heights. The small piece of land that it stands on is known as Jeffrey's Hook, named after the man that owned the land before it was acquired by the city in 1896.

The lighthouse was originally built for Sandy Hook, NJ, and it stood there as the North Hook Beacon until becoming obsolete in 1917 (it was replaced by a much larger light). It was moved in pieces and reconstructed at its current spot in northern Manhattan, to help reduce accidents at one of the narrowest sections of the Hudson River. But the construction of the George Washington Bridge (and its 24-hour, bright lights) once again made the lighthouse obsolete, and it was decommissioned in 1948.

There were plans to auction off (and melt down) the lighthouse, but it was saved by a public campaign led mostly by school children, who were familiar with the lighthouse thanks to Hildegarde Swift's 1942 children's book,The Little Red Lighthouse and the Great Gray Bridge. Control of the lighthouse passed from the Coast Guard to the City Department of Parks and Recreation in 1951 and it became a New York City landmark in 1991.

This past weekend was Open House NY weekend, that magical two days where places in all five boroughs open their doors, providing tours and exclusive access to spots not normally (or sporadically) open to the public. There wasn't much on the list this year that I absolutely had to check out (past favorites have been the TWA Flight Center, Marine Air Terminal, Treasures in the Trash Collection, Brooklyn Army Terminal and The Four Seasons) but I was excited about getting inside of the lighthouse. I'd been to Fort Washington Park a few times, and spied on it from above while walking across the George Washington Bridge, but I'd never been inside.

The lighthouse is small—constructed of 48 pieces of cast iron—and doesn't have space for a live-in keeper. It was relighted by the city in 2002, and the red light now turns on and off every day by a timer. There's not much room inside for anything but a spiral staircase to the top, but it's always thrilling to get behind-the-scenes access.

Enchanted Forest

Ever since my life-changing visit to the Magic Forest in Lake George, NY I have been obsessed with storybook parks. At one time they were popular attractions all over the country, but they're definitely past their prime and just a fraction still remain in operation. Kids today want fast rides and flashy screens, not big shoes and the three little pigs.

Luckily, there are people like the owners of Clark's Elioak Farm, a 219-year-old farm in Ellicott City, Maryland. The nearby Enchanted Forest opened in 1955, and closed in the '90s. Over the years, the Clark family has purchased many of the pieces and installed them on their farm. I'm not sure how many pieces are missing from the original Forest (if any), but it certainly feels as if the farm is now more Enchanted Forest than actual farm—which is exactly what I was hoping to find.

I can't articulate exactly why these places hold such appeal for me—I don't recall ever visiting one as an actual kid—but I love any place that feels untouched by the passage of time. Sure, technology is great, but so is artistry and these figures and structures have a tangible, handmade, interactive quality that you just can't get from a screen. My very favorites were the Old Woman's Shoe (aka my future), Willie the Whale (my second Willy!) and Little Toot—because everything is better with face.

Almost all of the figures and structures are in excellent shape, and have been repaired, refurbished and repainted since landing at the farm. Despite having some repeat figures and themes, Clark's feels different than the Magic Forest—less creepy and probably closer to how these parks felt in their glory days. My mom pointed out the incongruity of my distaste for children and my love of all things child-like—aka, my life struggle—but we visited on a Thursday afternoon and the farm was (blissfully) deserted.  

There is an actual "Enchanted Forest" section in the farm, a wooded maze that takes you past characters and scenes from notable fairy tales. I wonder if kids today (spoken like the 80-year-old woman I am) even recognize any of these stories, like The Tortoise and the Hare or Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater. I'm still wondering about the large sombrero, the lone dinosaur and the alien/elf named Howie (??), but in my experience, things don't need to make complete sense to still be thoroughly enjoyed.

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Clark's Elioak Farm
10500 Clarksville Pike
Ellicott City, MD 21042
Open April 1-November 5
Tues-Fri: 10am-5pm, Sat-Sun: 10am-5:30pm

Muffler Man: Cowtown Cowboy

It's Muffler Man Monday—at least for a little while since we saw so many on our recent road trip. They're all so wonderful and unique, so each deserves to be profiled separately. Up next: this lovely cowboy gentleman was our second stop in New Jersey, about 40 min from the Pink Pants-wearing Muffler Man. 

This cowboy variety is 22-feet tall, and wears a Stetson hat, holster and pistol. Bought at an auction in the '70s, he has been standing outside of the Cowtown Rodeo and Farmers' Market ever since. In the early 2000's, the cowboy's top half blew off during a windstorm, leaving just the pants standing. He was repaired, and is now reinforced at the waist and looks freshly painted.

One of the first things I noticed about this Muffler Man is that he isn't holding anything in his outstretched hands. A lot of the others I've met are similarly unadorned, but this one seemed to actively be missing something. Turns out I was right—he used to hold a lariat rope, but it was removed after people kept swinging on it (people ruin everything). 

Bonus fiberglass attraction! Every cowboy needs a cow, and this red bull (with an udder??) stands nearby the Muffler Man, right in front of the (likely hyperbolic) sign that proclaims that Cowtown is "often imitated, never equaled."

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Cowtown Rodeo and Farmers' Market
780 Harding Hwy
Pilesgrove, NJ 08098
Easily Accessible

New York State Pavilion

I've been obsessed with all things related to the two New York World's Fairs ever since I first laid eyes on the Unisphere four years ago. At first glance it may seem as if there is very little left from either fair—most buildings were designed to be temporary—but there are still quite a few remnants if you know where to look. Of course you don't have to look to hard to find the Unisphere—you may have even seen it as you flew into or out of LaGuardia—or its neighbor, the New York State Pavilion.

Designed by Philip Johnson in 1962, the NY State Pavilion comprises three separate parts: the Tent of Tomorrow, Theaterama and three observation towers. The Tent of Tomorrow and observation towers are technically in ruin (the Theaterama is home to the Queens Theatre) , but their fate isn't too dire (yet). Thanks to the New York State Pavilion Paint Project, it has received a new coat of paint, and I recently took an Untapped Cities tour of the usually-off-limits inside, led by Mitch Silverstein, co-founder of the Project. I'd been inside once before, during a World's Fair anniversary festival, but this tour was much more comprehensive.

When it was built, the elliptical Tent of Tomorrow had the largest cable suspension roof in the world, a ceiling made of colorful tiles, and the floor was covered in a terrazzo map of New York State. The tiles are long gone and the terrazzo map is in bad shape —it's been covered for some time to prevent further damage, but they have a few sections on display.

The Pavilion had another life in the 70s as a roller rink, but it closed when the structure started deteriorating. They filmed scenes for The Wiz inside of the Pavilion, and fairgoers were wowed by new technologies such as the microwave. I would give ANYthing to have been able to see the pavilion in all of its fair glory but it's pretty dreamy as a ruin—a state of being that apparently even Philip Johnson appreciated. He once wrote, "The New York State Pavilion at the 1964-65 World's Fair is now a ruin. In a way, the ruin is even more haunting than the original structure. There ought to be a university course in the pleasure of ruins."