St. Gen


Last Sunday we schlepped the kids over to Chris's parents so we could go to the Jour de Fete. Our favorite Missouri wine (yeah, we have wineries here. We ain't all beer and brats, you know), Adam's Choice, is only sold at three locations and they sell in bulk at Jour de Fete. So we went and bought a bunch of bottles and dragged them around the streets of St. Genevieve all day like a couple of winos.

We also visited this shop, which I love, especially for how their walls look:

Chris hates crafts that look like "sticks and twigs" - coincidentally, the shop is called Ivy and Twigs or something - and says that any drunk hoosier can stumble out to their wooded backyard, grab a dried vine branch, nail it to their wall, and call it "crafts." He also said the shop "smelled like a whore house" because they had several candles burning. I asked him how he knew what a whore house smelled like anyway and he unintentionally said "It's a figure of speech. GOSH." just like Napoleon Dynamite.

On the way back I took pictures of a road,

a barn,

a roadside lookout,

and us, because I'm so vain like that hag said on that remedial femi-nazi board (I do TRY, love):

We had to hurry up with these because a couple of rednecks stopped off at the same time we did and they kept casting us exasperated glances because we think they wanted us to hurry up and leave so they could smoke pot:

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Dana asks: "Thanksgiving Traditions: Yours or Your Mother's?"