What is it about fall that makes everything seem so much more... fresh and clean? This past summer was rough, and I'm not just talking about the weather. Sure, it was hot and dry but also so humid at times (the rain would just never come, though), and every time you walked outside you wished that you lived in a nudist colony because no matter how few clothes you were wearing you were still just a little too hot. But the summer was rough in other ways, too. Emotionally very difficult. We lost Wyatt, I lost my great-aunt Madeline, and my father brought out into the open some ghosts that I thought (and maybe we all thought) were hidden away from sight forever. And there was the same-old same-old about pursuing passions (or even having passions), the meaning of life, lamenting over the fact that there is not enough time in the day, and that even though you spend a huge amount of your time with your husband you still don't feel like you're really connecting with him because there is a large part of you that just does not have the energy to put into all the things that you're supposed to have the energy for, and something inevitably suffers, and sometimes that's your relationship with your significant other (does that happen to you, too?). In true Rosanne fashion, I didn't feel the real impact of all of this until well into August, and basically broke down halfway through. I became my friend the Zoloft egg. Classic depression. Sad, weighed down, lack of interest, fatigue, loneliness. All of it. Somehow, though, I got myself back on track, slowly but surely. Doug helped. Meg and Sasha helped. Homeopathy helped. Our therapist helped. Right now I'm doing much better. Much, much better, but am weary of another visit from the Zoloft egg. I bet I won't get a visit until late January, when I'm tired of winter and am ready to see some green grass and some daffodils. So I'll enjoy each of these bright days while I have them.
I guess it's appropriate, then, that, as I leave the sadness behind for a while, Doug and I take a little trip to regroup and refresh. We headed out to Cooperstown this past weekend for a nice weekend away. There's nothing to do there in Cooperstown, unless you count going to the one small art museum, the small-scale Sturbridge Village, and the Baseball Hall of Fame as things to do. Which I do, wholeheartedly, and these were the reasons why we went there (those and Ommegang), but so many people said to us, "You're going to Cooperstown? Why?", that we allowed ourselves to think that maybe we would be bored. But who can be bored when you have this around you?
We drove through hills and valleys that rivaled those we saw in Ireland, they were that beautiful. 
The land is just so green there, so alive and so vibrant. (I sound like Tom Cruise in Far and Away when he's yelling at Nicole Kidman about land - land!) Naturally, Doug was thinking to himself, "Wouldn't Cooperstown be a great place to live!", and decided to search the local paper (while sitting inside the only coffee shop for, oh, I don't know, 25 miles) for employment opportunities. 
Unfortunately, we found none. But, we did find Brewery Ommegang (and were on their first tour and tasting of the day at noon on Monday. Nothing says breakfast like strong Belgian beer.) 
and also the Fenimore Art Museum 
and The Farmer's Museum. We were so happy to have made it to The Farmer's Museum, where Doug's family have their old homestead on display, that we had to do a little dance. 
Because it was a beautiful day in a wonderfully historic working museum in dairy country New York. What more could we have asked for? A milkshake, a cheeseburger about four-inches thick, and seeing the house where Doug's grandmother grew up? 
Check, check, and check. This trip was just what the doctor ordered. And when we go back, maybe we'll actually check out the Baseball Hall of Fame.
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