Something about the water…

Connecticut! Land where I was born and home to some of my dearest friends. There’s never enough time to visit and the time is bittersweet. The novelty of living in Florida for 10 years has definitely worn off and boy do the hills of CT look wonderful. Of course it’s easy to say this because it’s mid summer…I haven’t experienced cold or snow in a long time and it would probably take some getting used to again.  One of the things I miss the most is being able to have a beautiful vegetable garden.  the heat in Florida makes it hard to produce good produce.  I miss having the summers off to dig and enjoy my yearly organic vegetable garden.

I also miss my dear friends, and although I have plenty of friends here in Florida, they’re just not the same as the ones I have in CT…the people I grew up into adulthood with, whom I  laughed and cried over life with.  Even though I have fought the battle with Breast Cancer and a life threatening operation here in Florida, I still feel like I’ve shared most of my life’s journey with these old friends.

But on with the blog…I reluctantly left the Amish Country with Mom, my niece and daughter and headed for CT.  Of course, we got stuck in the traffic of New York’s 95, fighting our way over the George Washington Bridge and outskirts of Westchester County, protesting against  the thievery of New York toll booths and the dangerous driving habits of the crazy residents.  Of course, right around Greenwich and Cos Cob everyone decided they had to go to the bathroom (moi included) and not able to hold it a moment more and so after a few bungled attempts getting on and off exits and driving around the incredibly curvy streets that were so different from the wide avenues of Florida, we desperately pulled up outside a somewhat-promising looking bar & grill near Bruce Park.  Mom ( in an effort to protect everyone from evil) asked a delivery guy exiting the bar and grill “if this would be OK for us”.  The guy enthusiastically told us this was a great place with good bar food and we would love it.  So we went for it, and really, we couldn’t hold it a moment longer!  We parked precariously on the narrow, hilly, foreign street in front  and took our chances.

It was just a little hole in the wall, dark paneled and equipped with old fashioned New-Yorkish wood booths, but we were starving and ready for anything.  A few patrons sat at the wooden, worn bar enjoying the baseball game on this quiet late afternoon.  After looking over the small menu,  we all decided on personal pizzas (and the adults, beer) made use of the facilities and settled in for an early dinner.  Well, Mom and I had forgotten just how GOOD New York pizza is…the water and all…and we all thoroughly enjoyed every single bite of that wonderful pizza and would continue to remark on it from time to time throughout the vacation. Manna in the wilderness for sure.

Satisfied, we paid the bill and piled into the car for the last 20 minutes or so of the trip and rolled into Stamford, CT at exit 9 off of 95.  We had arrived at our next destination and were ready to continue the adventure. I wish I had gotten a picture or two of the place, aptly named “Bruce Park Grill”  but my mind was on other matters at the time.  I did manage to find a few on the web, so I’ll share them with you.

Oh, and I’m STILL remembering how gosh darned good that pizza was.

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