Transit days are my least favorite days. Packing up the RV – I do the inside, English Hubby does the outside – cleaning, driving then unpacking when we get to our next location. Baby Boy O shed a few tears today from the back seat of the car. It may have been the teething, or having to listen to his mother’s poor rendition of various 90’s music pop hits. Regardless, a three hour journey feels twice as long with a little one in the back. Thankfully we made it to Portland relatively unscathed. Looking forward to tomorrow’s foodie tour of the Old Port.
Magical morning. I’m going to miss this view
His first lick of real food
Some of the funny things you see in transit. The blushing bride can pick up her dress, guns and ammo at the same time!
Becoming pros at the supermarket carpark lunchtime stopovers
Yesterday’s post: Cruising Toddy Pond
Tomorrow’s post: The Foodiest Small Town in America
