No, not the usual listing of milk, bread, eggs, butter, potatoes – those are givens. Rather, the things special to me you’re not likely to pick up if you’re doing my grocery run.
Olives. Big green stuffed ones, though I love ripe ones as well, elsewhere.
Gin. Where did you think those green olives were going?
Bagels. Or breakfast pastry.
Craisins. They go well in yogurt or on a salad.
Sunflower seeds. On that salad, too.
Cookies and pretzels. Something to snack on.
Garlic. Rather than onion.
Lemons. And limes, for someone special.
Orange juice, or grapefruit. Perk me up in the morning.
Not as frequently but all the same: miso, sesame oil, rice vinegar, almonds.
The Cloud 9 Motel sign stands out along State Route 9. Initially, the name seemed to reflect some misplaced hip ’60s jargon. What we encounter is far from a plush, consummate destination. Eventually, I connected the “9” to the highway. Ha-ha.As you can see, there’s no motel, just a sand pit, on Maine Route 9 – the Airline Highway – four miles west of Wesley.A postcard shows the place in its prime in the ’70s. It had eight heated motel units and sold gasoline, groceries, beer to take out, and light lunches in what it touted as the heart of some of the finest hunting and fishing in Maine. Many of the sportsmen returned annually, but times change. The buildings came down in 2015.
