Sleepy Hollow

Two weeks ago, on New Year's Eve, Jenine and I drove down to New York state to visit friends. Halfway there a snowstorm made the drive extra adventurous but, with windows retracted for defogging and tempers high, we eventually slipped and slid to our destination.

Saturday night was for chatting, catching up, reading Calvin & Hobbes, and watching Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve Special move one more step towards the pale and the eventual Ryan Seacrest's Rockin' New Year's Eve Special overhaul.

What could be more fun than watching Hillary Duff magically change between 'glam' and 'sassy' outfits during commercial breaks? You guessed it! Graveyards!

On Sunday we drove to Sleepy Hollow, where apparantly, by law, every business must prefix its name with the town's infamous monicker or be shut down. We spent most of our time amidst tombstones, sarcophogi, and mausoleum. The earlier snowstorm meant that we were treated to a serene and quiet scene, the leafless trees and soft blankets of snow all echoing the peace of the grave.





Up to no good.


Not even the dead can escape the prying lens of my Olympus!


Is nothing sacred?!



Finally, before driving home on Sunday, we had a tasty lunch at a little Greek restaurant,where I got scowled at for knocking over a bottle of ketchup. Overall it was a lovely visit and a good time for catching up.