On Monday morning, after revelry and celebration the night before at Iron Hill Brewery where Bud loved both the fisherman's stew and mussels and the rest of us liked the pommes frites with rosemary-garlic mayonnaise (also, the Kennett Square mushroom soup), we headed home.
But not without a little hiccup: in the middle of the night, when I got up to check on Sis who was wimpering a bit in her sleep, I pulled a muscle in my back. At first, I feared it was the disk and I'd have lots of trouble; but while there was pain and discomfort, I could still walk and sit and stand. Meds, ice, and my brace (which I always travel with) made it better than it would've been. And I could travel by morning, taking it slowly and carefully, with the above-mentioned help.
And so we stopped at Morristown National Historic Park. We enjoyed the museum display of artifacts of the privileged classes--spinnets, game pieces, shaving implements, the thinnest knitting needles, and the like, as well as the reconstruction of the soldiers' hut with its numerous bunk beds. We also liked exploring the farmstead, with its 18th-century house and extensive kitchen gardens. The kids, by now, are experienced historic house tourists and so know about the expense of glass windows, how they cooked on an open hearth, what the root cellar was used for, etc. But they still get grossed out by privvies and chamber pots.
Of all things, the kids were least impressed by the fact that George and Martha slept there!