"He has you on a pedestal and me in his arms.."

...this is not only a great elevator quote in an amazing film, but it also pertains to the biggest affliction my heart is feeling right now. I am currently sitting in an uncomfortable (and quite stiff) chair in a really cool hotel that overlooks the Atlantic Ocean (Bar Harbor style -- or if you prefer, Bah Haba!)


My family and I drove 11.5 hours today from PA to ME, and the latter state happens to be one that took my breath away and stole my heart five years ago. For some, that description would pertain more toward a person...but it's me, and Maine is it.


It's a funny thing. They (implement whoever you think "they" should be) say that 'home is where the heart is', but in this case, I beg to differ. I don't know anyone from Maine, no relatives or friends. I don't have a Maine accent (but I'm thinking I can pick one up pretty quick!), and I don't have any particular reason to be so attached to ME. After all, it's cold, dreary, and started to downpour the minute we drove over the state line. It's far from anyone familiar. It's a completely democratic state (Oops. Yes, I went there.) ...and it looks exactly like Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and Connecticut.


So, what's the big deal? Why Bah Haba, Maine?


...Why does anyone fall in love with anyone? The way he walks, talks, lives life? Bar Harbor, in particular, is brimming with authentically charming shops. It has the most gorgeous and peacefully remote view of the ocean. And the people seem to always be smiling. Now, that might be because they know we are tourists (is it our lack of accent?), or just because it's a bit touristy. But I lived in Orlando for 13 years -- I know touristy, and would not describe Orlando as "charming" or even "dainty".


The idea of Moose(s) is oddly appealing. I want to walk in the woods and see a moose. I really do. The first time we drove to ME a few years ago, I saw one on the side of the road. I almost had a heart attack. They are huge. HUGE.


Tonight for dinner, I ate the true "Maine" meal. A whole entire lobster (It was looking at me the entire time...I gagged, and then broke its body in half, gagged and broke apart its tail, gagged and scooped out the littlest piece of meat from each leg. It was wonderfully gag-worthy, delicious), a hearty portion of clam chowdah, and the most amazing slice of Maine blueberry pie ala mode. I'm thinking that when I go to Heaven, that's the dinner I would like to sit down and eat every night. Let me tell you.

It's not all about the seafood feasts or quaint shops. It's the entire atmosphere. The town breathes in culture and artifacts and sea-legs. People know who they are in Maine. They have an identity. They call sprinkles "jimmies", and they say "suppah", and they have lobster races across kitchen floors. It's that luring, attractive "fisherman's" quality that must draw me in. Every moment I spend here is like a day on the sea. I feel like I should be sleeping in the cabin of someone's boat, peeling my own shrimp and bating my own hook.

I feel at home and it's nothing like my home. I have Maine on a pedestal and Pennsylvania in my arms.

Catch you on the ship in just one more day! :)