Neither earth nor ocean produces a creature as savage and monstrous as woman…a witch perchaps?

Yesterday, my friend Sarah and I decided, “Welp, let’s keep this feeling of the sea alive once more.” We embarked on a trip out the city, back to the great wide open, with of course, a trip to Kelly’s inbetwixt, for fish and chips (oh, and their yummy o-rings, too).

It was over a delicious plate of the above that I told her all about my friend Esteban Miguel, and his horrid habit of “clamming up around girls”. I won’t rehash it all here, but just to note: if you take a girl to a seafood restaurant, let her order the clam roll! Please. It will go swimmingly for you, if you do. Trust.

After, for some strange reason so close to Hallow’s Eve, we decided to make our way to Salem (where Sarah used to work at one of the historical homes turned musuem, which was in fact a Judge from the Witch Trials’ actual home, but often involved visitors asking questions of Sarah like “so, uh, did they burn the witches in the fireplace?” Enough said.) through serious tourist traps and traffic to wax poetic on our love of New England, old homes, and men who wear unassuming footwear. Sarah let me wander into a beautious knitting shop, but I held back and did not buy a thing (mainly because I have enough yarn in my shelves to make enough sweaters to keep the whole of Russia warm this winter), and away we went to people watch. If you’ve never been to Salem, people watching during Halloween time is the main reason to go, and I will say that’s why we ended up there in the first place. I snapped these two “Witchy Wearers” in a romantic moment, and while they weren’t nearly as odd as a majority of the wanderers, I’m pretty pleased at how special it seems when you look at it the next day.

After this little romantic moment, Sarah and I contemplated heading into the bunghole in search of a shipwreck. No, I’m not here kidding. The Bunghole is a packing store in Salem, and the delicious brews were calling to me…

Alas, I changed my mind and instead we stumbled upon a full carnival happening in the parking lot of a gas station. Kid not. And many a kid embraced their inner “I may want to die, or get my feet cut off at least” and jumped on a few of the rides, which included a Pirate Ship that is not a pirate ship, but a “Pharaoh’s Fury” with a honkin’ grinning Pharaoh on the masthead. Really? Wouldn’t a Pirate Ship be more fitting in a seaside community?

Of course, the day ended with a plate of fried dough and a trip back to the city, in which I decided to ride the train downtown and start working on a new “Mock Brioche” Cowl since I was a bit chilly from the day’s gray skies, witchy witches, and of course that ever-present harbor wind. I’ll post pictures of the new cowl, being knitted up in a “Wheat” color, which is really just an off white with flecks of brown and green and orange in it, when I get a bit more done.

File Under: I decided I could be a small-town public librarian if it meant I lived in an adorable historic home from which I could walk every day to my job and have braided rugs and a knitting room. Here’s to wishing…

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