You probably had to have been there

The home we stayed in on Coronado Island was a highlight of the trip.  It still had so many of its original elements, and we could picture ourselves back in time as we explored the back hallways, servants quarters, and even the kitchen which still had its old, old oven and ice box style wall fridges. (and there is a whole other story to come about the oven…)

While the home was spectacular, it was still homey, you could tell a family had lived there for years.  We were comfy hanging out in jammies and crafting till all hours of the night, or coming down to the kitchen still groggy to put on a pot of coffee.  

Yep, we got to explore the whole house. One night, we went up to check out the attics.  Yes, plural attics. One didn't have a light and it was pitch black in the stairs, and as we were trying to man up to get to the next level and find a light switch, Beth spookily said, "There is something wrong here."

She had stepped in something.  We couldn't see what it was, but she guessed a dead bat. I thought maybe a rat.  I ran down a few flights and zoomed back up with my phone's flashlight

And discovered, about half way up the flight of stairs, one of the biggest piles of dog poo, I'd ever seen.

Dog poop?

On the stairs?

Of a unused attic of a marvelous mansion?

When we hadn't seen a dog around anywhere?

Yuck, yes dog poop.  I've never seen a dog use a stairway to do that on, very odd for many reasons.

Needless to say, that dark stairwell and attic space didn't get explored that night. But we went off another direction to a lower level attic and poked around in there.  I'd hoped to see 90 year old, cob webby treasures, but instead, it looked like typical modern day storage from the family. Childhood toys, outgrown sports equipment, a few pieces of unused furniture.

No dog poo, though.

Deb, our hostess, was thrilled to see 1950s Barbies in their cases full of clothes and wanted to get a photo of Beth and I with them on the steps.

As soon as I held mine up, this happened.

And we started laughing like little girls on a sleepover being silly with their besties. Laughing til our bellies ached.  Laughing like this was the funniest thing that could ever, ever happen.  Laughing til I had an asthma attack.

I ran down a few more flights of stairs and to the other wing, bent over with laughter, unable to breathe, while Deb and Beth followed me, to get my inhaler from my purse in my suite.

 It ain't a good belly laugh unless it almost kills you. 

This was a typical moment from the weekend. Beth and I had the sillies, and made the most of them.  Laughing like a carefree child and being goofy is not what I expected to do on our formal Downton Abbey art retreat, but man, it sure was a fun turn of events.  

A weekend full of goofy behaviour is something everyone should have. We climbed out of our bedroom window to explore a hidden patio.

Where we had a beautiful view from our part of the roof top, but made fools of ourselves in ways I won't even mention. But we sure entertained ourselves.

Beth wrote "HELP" in sticks on the roof top, and we rolled around on the roof laughing at how clever it was. It is a good laugh that knocks you down to the ground so that you can't get up.

Here is a little sketch I made for my book, showing highlights of the trip.   

Maybe you had to be there?

Here is Beth's post about the mansion. You can see how stately it is, not a typical backdrop for our juvenile giggle fits.