After all my plans to get an early start on the day today, Leo and I woke up at … 1:30 pm.
We dragged ourselves out of our hotel in Wenatchee and hit the road for Leavenworth.
I’m going to backtrack a little bit here, because I finally have the pictures from yesterday. Here are the shots of Bob’s Corn Maze:
See? Complete with a mangy dog.
Leo and I drive the twenty-odd miles to Leavenworth and look for parking. This proves to be impossible, because this is like the busiest weekend of the year in Leavenworth, and all the spots we do manage to find have ominous signs about how they’re reserved and violators will be towed. But then I remember the number-one parking rule in the state of Washington: no parking rules are enforced, ever. After that, we find a spot immediately.
Leavenworth is a tiny Bavarian-style village. It was cute, but not really as exciting as I’d hoped. What’s weird, though, is that everything in the town plays on this Bavarian theme. Even outside of the main strip. For example:
I know, right? I didn’t manage to get pics of the Bavarian Safeway, Wells Fargo or Bank of America, but rest assured they were present.
Laremy told me that if I was going to Leavenworth, I had to be sure to get fudge, so, when I saw this sign, I had to go in:
I entered The Fudge Hut, and my life was forever changed.
I’m one of those people who never really had a happy place. I don’t handle meditation well, because inevitably whoever’s guiding it is all like “Picture a place where you’re always relaxed and calm and happy” and honestly the best I could come up with previously was Costco. I’m always pretty happy in Costco. You can get so much peanut butter! But it always felt hollow somehow, as far as a happy place. I now have a happy place. The Fudge Hut is my happy place. Look at all the different kinds of fudge:
It’s family-run, and fudge was being served by a mom and dad and their two teenage sons, one of whom was fourteen and pimply and kind of showing off for me, and it’s really been awhile since a fourteen-year-old tried to impress me, and it made me feel happy. I almost wanted to flirt back, but I didn’t. I’m so weird.
Anyway. I picked out four different squares of fudge, totaling one pound, and the lady’s like, “Oh, when you buy a pound you get a half-pound free” and, like, I’m normally the least excitable consumer on the planet, but I nearly did back-flips over this. I was like a kid in a candy store. Or a kid in a fudge store. Or, ya know, me in a fudge store.
I cannot say enough good things about this fudge. I’ve never tasted anything that good. It was perfect in every respect. Like, if I were Muslim, I would consider this fudge a total affront to Allah. It was that good. When my little pound and a half is gone, I am going to need some manner of fudge methadone. (Hey, friends and family, they have a Fudge of the Month club! Makes a GREAT gift!)
After I bought the fudge, Leo decided he wanted to make his own fudge, and he pooped suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk. I decided we were done with Leavenworth then. It was a nice note to end on, and we headed home.
In conclusion, I took a gazillion photos of the insane beauty of the trees and hills on the drive through Washington. I understand that nobody cares about my stupid photos of trees, but I’ll have you know that they’re notable in the sense that I am perhaps the least competent photographer on Earth. I’m like Ansel Adams, inverted. Here’s a couple of them, the rest are in the thumbnails below. Enjoy.
