Hello my lovelies! It has been far too long. So unfortunately, this summer's grand States of Snark adventure had to be cancelled, because my amazingly wonderful best-Grandpa-ever Grandpa (see this post) was sick, and passed away in late August. Lizzie and I decided that we should do a States of Snark mini edition, so we went up to northern New Hampshire, starting at the Indian Head Resort, where my Grandpa and Grandma used to take my sisters (and family) and I back in the day. Lizzie and I left at 10am, and the ride up to Lincoln goes much faster when you are not crammed in with 7 or so other people and their respective luggage in your Grandpa's Plymouth Voyager mini-van, but this ride was lacking my Grandma's magical bottomless bag of candy, and both of my sainted Grandparents' limitless patience for my endless singing. (NOTE: I WON MY FIRST KARAOKE CONTEST AT THIS RESORT WHEN I WAS TWELVE. I sang "The Greatest Love of All", and brought down the house. By "the house" I mean the five or so other families that were in the audience.) On the drive up, we peeped at the leaves (which peeped back) and discussed the proper pronunciation of Kancamagus (kanc-a-MAH-gus, not Kangamangus which is wrong but more fun to say. RHYMING.) I saw a sign for the Robert Frost museum, and wrote an awesome tribute poem, which went something like this: Robert Frost is very nice/ He wrote poetry about snow and ice/ I've read them all once or thrice/ and now his home is full of lice.
Not much has changed at the Indian Head Resort since I came here as a kid. Allow me to illustrate.
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