Fallingwater

Yesterday morning started off at 4:30 when my alarm sounded. I dragged my arse out of bed and proceeded to fall back asleep in the tub for twenty lovely minutes. I got out, got dressed, had a quick breakfast then woke Ashlee up at about 5:30. It was drizzling rain as I put our bag of grub for the road in the back seat. Ash finished getting ready, we hopped in the car, grabbed her some coffee, and were off for the Pennsylvania Turnpike at 6:30.

(that whosh! of a person in the background said, "That's a good selfie!" Damn right, mister.)
Any amount of time that Ashlee and I spend together is always fantastic. Our conversations are endless and we never run out of anything to say. We are both as silly as we are serious and can discuss just about any topic. In between our chit-chat and hitting rest stops to stretch our legs and peepod, we listened to John Waters' Carsick audio book, but only the last third. I love the real story of how he hitchhiked from Baltimore to San Francisco way more than his fictional accounts.

(Ash took this shot, which does not capture how really scary it was on this road.)
About an hour or so from our destination, on some winding, hilly, back road, we hit some crazy-ass fog. It was a real pea-souper, as they say. We were creeping along at 15mph, both of us leaning forward in our seats as if that would somehow help us see the road more clearly. Finally the fog dissipated and we narrowly avoided hitting a sweet looking dog that was all kinds of filthy and in need of a great big bath and a warm hug.

We arrived at Fallingwater by 12:30 and had plenty of time to tour the grounds and snap some photos before our tour began at 2:05. Our guide was Ken Williams and he was like Paul McCartney (even thought he looked like Oliver Sacks). Ya know, ya figure that by now, ole Paul would be so over singing Hey, Jude or Yesterday, that you'd be able to see with each performance just how sick to death he is of playing it, but you never are. That's how Ken was; he seemed so enthusiastic about the house and you'd have thought it was only his first week at this, but it wasn't.

The house was leaking water throughout and was certainly flawed in some ways, but that only added to is charm. Unlike most homes that are now like a museum (such as Peter Paul Rubens' place in Antwerpen) we were actually able to walk through each room and get a close up look at the paintings on the walls, the texture of the fabric on the sofas and chairs, and the view from Edgar Kauffman Sr.'s desk. (The only rooms that were roped off were the bathrooms, which by the way, were fabulous, especially the sunken bathtubs!)

All in all, Fallingwater did not disappoint and the ride to and back home with my gal, Ashlee, was just as wonderful.