I'm just back from a really fabulous weekend in Branson, Missouri, with two really fabulous people, Rick and Valorie. I'm pretty sure I'd have a good time with them anywhere, but we sure had a good time in Branson.
We engaged in some very Branson-y pastimes--went shopping at not one, but two outlet malls, which is something I like more than I like to admit. I have a little trouble getting motivated to actually go shopping, but once I'm there, I rather enjoy it. Especially at the outlets, where you can get really awesome Van Heusen shirts and Bass shoes for cheap cheap cheap. And I bought three good bras, so now I'm good for another seven years (which would be the last time I bought decent bras. Yes that's pathetic, but have you ever had to buy bras? It's not much fun. I never even know what size I am, since it seems to change. Okay, that's probably enough blogging about bras.)
We also ate at the breakfast buffet twice, which is really a lot less all-you-can-eat than one could enjoy in almost four days in Branson. Seriously, we could have packed on five, ten pounds. But we were reasonably good. We went to the grocery store and bought healthy food and ate meals at our condo. We ate out at a few restaurants, but we didn't go overboard. And we worked out every morning except for Labor Day which is a day of rest dammit.
And we went fishing with Val and Rick's equally fabulous friend, Martin. Twice. Valorie caught a very nice bass the second time. And we hung out at the pool. Played miniature golf on the course at the condo. Did one touristy thing--The Butterfly Palace and Rainforest Adventure--which was really pretty nice, if a bit expensive.
I did not count, so this is an unofficial statistic, but I am reasonably certain that Branson has more churches and American flags than any other city in the world. Definitely more churches flying American flags. Definitely more blurring of the line between Christian faith and American patriotism. Actually, the line is pretty much invisible in Branson.
But other than some vague discomfort at the sense that I was in a town that would definitely have been the setting for an Orwell novel had George ever been there, I had a really good time.
It did seem like the perfect place to be when John McCain picked Sarah Palin to be his running mate. But surely that is another entry.
We engaged in some very Branson-y pastimes--went shopping at not one, but two outlet malls, which is something I like more than I like to admit. I have a little trouble getting motivated to actually go shopping, but once I'm there, I rather enjoy it. Especially at the outlets, where you can get really awesome Van Heusen shirts and Bass shoes for cheap cheap cheap. And I bought three good bras, so now I'm good for another seven years (which would be the last time I bought decent bras. Yes that's pathetic, but have you ever had to buy bras? It's not much fun. I never even know what size I am, since it seems to change. Okay, that's probably enough blogging about bras.)
We also ate at the breakfast buffet twice, which is really a lot less all-you-can-eat than one could enjoy in almost four days in Branson. Seriously, we could have packed on five, ten pounds. But we were reasonably good. We went to the grocery store and bought healthy food and ate meals at our condo. We ate out at a few restaurants, but we didn't go overboard. And we worked out every morning except for Labor Day which is a day of rest dammit.
And we went fishing with Val and Rick's equally fabulous friend, Martin. Twice. Valorie caught a very nice bass the second time. And we hung out at the pool. Played miniature golf on the course at the condo. Did one touristy thing--The Butterfly Palace and Rainforest Adventure--which was really pretty nice, if a bit expensive.
I did not count, so this is an unofficial statistic, but I am reasonably certain that Branson has more churches and American flags than any other city in the world. Definitely more churches flying American flags. Definitely more blurring of the line between Christian faith and American patriotism. Actually, the line is pretty much invisible in Branson.
But other than some vague discomfort at the sense that I was in a town that would definitely have been the setting for an Orwell novel had George ever been there, I had a really good time.
It did seem like the perfect place to be when John McCain picked Sarah Palin to be his running mate. But surely that is another entry.
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