S. Worthen | Weblog

Yesterday, I was in a bubble of comfort. Today, I rediscovered Americana, the joy of being in the foreign country in which I grew up.

First, we went to Kmart. I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to be in a large shop with copious choice in a whole variety of things I end up mail-ordering through obscurity in the UK. I love the range of permanent marker colors, the varieties of ribbon, the kinds of Post-It notes, the rampant creativity of tie-in marketing (at least, in moderation). It's amazing how inexpensive things are.

Secondly, we went to the Split Rail diner in Woodbury, a classy New England diner, full of locals and red-and-white checked curtains. I savored the Root Beer of the Gods*, Buffalo wings with addictive sauce, and stole bites of my grandmother's corned beef hash. So good, so satisfying, so hard to find in the UK.

Driving back, past large lots of land on undulating hills covered in woodland and divided by stone walls, it all seems so civilized and decadent.

* No, they don't make their own. I just miss it that much, and don't usually find it worth paying several pounds for an import can.