Six Week Project: Day Thirty One

“We’re going for a cruise.” These have been the words of the week. Whether it was to get away from a stressful work environment for a few minutes, or to pass the hours of a welcomed day off, that has been the theme of this week. It seems as though when everything gets to be too much, getting into my car and driving somewhere other than where I am is one way for me to bring life back into perspective. As I head away from the place that’s bogging me down, I feel freer in every mile. It’s liberating to be able to take off without a care in the world, and I am going to treasure that while I am still able to do it, before I enter the future phases of my life where other adult responsibilities might inhibit my pedal to the metal attitude.

Sunday was a day that began without a plan. There’s a line in one of my favorite movies, Songcatcher, where Tom (the laid back Appalachian mountain man) says to Lily (the high-strung city dwelling professor), “Do you ever have a day without a plan?” That’s me. I plan. However, this Sunday, I vowed to myself (and my girlfriend) that we’d not set the alarm clock, we’d not have an agenda, and the only thing that hung over the day like a lovely misty haze was our idea to go shopping. It didn’t settle anywhere in a time frame, it didn’t get allotted to an hour or minute of the day, the idea was just there. How nice it was to experience a day like Sunday.

We took off for Marietta, then Parkersburg. We hit up our favorites (we’ve discovered that we do, in fact, have common favorites), T.J. Maxx, Old Navy and Borders, dropped a few bags in the trunk, and with the windows down and the sun roof open, I looked to the passenger seat of my car and said, “We’re going for a cruise.” I was fairly certain of the route that I wanted to take, but being the natural planner that I am, I consulted my trusty road map (I have a functional brain, and therefore I don’t have a GPS), and we hit the pavement sailing South on State Route 68 in West Virginia. State Route 68 follows the Ohio River and is studded by large farms, vast expanses of green, grassy fields and spring blooming wildflowers. When we got to Ravenswood, we crossed back into our home state and continued to hug the river down Ohio State Route 124. We made a joke out of every road sign we saw, said the name of each tiny town we passed through out loud, and commented incessantly about how beautiful of a day it was and what a perfect activity we’d found to occupy it. We stopped in Middleport at a lovely little antique store I’d visited in the fall, then burnt up some more time before dinner with a little trip to Gallipolis (where I found the cheapest gas I’d seen all day, and therefore filled up). We came back up State Route 7, and stopped at a little country place called Millie’s (of which I’ve previously written) for dinner.

I think I blew my girlfriend’s socks off when she saw not only what Millie’s served, but also what I ordered. Every now and again I break my own food rules. Not often, but once in awhile and when I do, I want it to be worth it. Millie’s is worth it. I was served up a huge, steaming bowl of white, gummy noodles (the way they’re meant to be) in broth naturally thickened by the flour that clung to the noodle dough as it was thrown into the boiling stock. This was flecked with pieces of shredded chicken, and was absolutely heavenly. As I told my girlfriend, making chicken and noodles into something whole-grain and healthy just isn’t worth it. It will never taste the same. So instead, I just break my rules maybe 3 or 4 times a year, and get the good stuff. This was accompanied by a bowl of sweet, tangy Harvard beets and an equally pungent and zingy three-bean salad. It was country-fied awesome.

Then, I broke down and cheated. This was my girlfriend’s first trip to Millie’s, and she loves pie. There was no way we’d be dining at Millie’s and skipping the homemade pie. We split a slice of apple, and I had no guilt whatsoever. There’s something about Millie’s pie that makes me feel homey. It’s not the best I’ve ever eaten, mostly because I think the apple pie I make, or my mother makes is the best, but it is better than most and the perfect way to cap off a meal there.

Evidence that I cheated, but it was so worth it.

We drove home the long way, up Old 33 through Shade and past the Last Chance Corral. The sun was beginning to fade, the breeze beginning to cool, and the beauty of the day began to culminate and slowly burn down like an ember. We picked up some coffee at the Donkey in Athens, then made for Morgan County and the work week that lay ahead of us. If you have an opportunity to take a day and explore your area, as we did, taking in all things local, I highly recommend it. There’s nothing quite like a day without a plan to make the days with plans seem worthwhile. I’ll pass those days along until the next day like Sunday rolls around. Please, buy local and eat well.