An unpublished story from the archive of the New York Times Travel section.
Nestled between identical townhouses, behind the service road, on the West Creek side of The Creeks, is my house. Often overlooked, due to the preponderance of identical Model II-B houses on the back (or “damp”) slope of West Creek - and also, perhaps, due to its proximity to the septic pumping station - my house can nevertheless provide a weekend of cultural and gastronomic delights to the adventurous traveler.
Friday
5 p.m.
1. Sightseeing with Jed
There’s no better way to explore the neighborhood around my house than grabbing the Wet Wipes and taking Jed for a walk. Ignore the growling – Jed’s a good dog, he’s just getting old (my wife had him before she had me - you'll probably hear her say that a few times this weekend.) Head upwind from the septic pumping station and enjoy the yard signs for various Republican city council members. As you approach the “flats” of West Creek, take note of the Model II-A houses, which are basically the same as mine but have detached garages – especially popular is the Christmas display at “That Asshole’s House” (42 West Creek Road, seasonal only). Be sure to turn around at the guard gate, though, or you’ll be in East Creek, which has Model I houses that are so big I’m pretty sure you can see them from space. And even though we pay our HOA dues in West Creek, and we’re human beings, God help you if you accidentally step onto East Creek.
6 p.m.
2. Art Walk
Back at my house, a small but vibrant art scene thrives in the hallway between the dining room and the guest bathroom. Below the smoke detector is a watercolor I did in college that my wife has called, “kind of creepy, isn’t it?” Continuing on, you’ll pass early works from my children, Michael and Audrey. Now fourteen and twelve, you can see traces of their current sullenness in these collages and turkey hand tracings. Be sure to leave plenty of time to take in the world’s largest private collection of my wife’s self-portraits. If you’re Facebook friends with her, you’ve already seen them. And if you’re Andrew from her office, you seem to really, really like them. A lot.
8 p.m.
3. That’s-a-Pizza!
You won’t go hungry in my house, where the kitchen provides snacks 24/7, although I’d rather you didn’t snack within 90 minutes of dinner, because, come on, you’re not going to die. Whether you choose the casual breakfast nook or the more formal dining room (we’ll just scoot the pile of mail off the table and fold those towels, which we’ve been meaning to do anyway), you will be treated to a surprisingly eclectic and international menu. Start with the homemade pizza, featuring a light and tasty disc of crust that has been thawed for hours, then microwaved for thirty seconds, then fifteen more seconds, then covered with sauce, cheese, and your choice of toppings (except mushrooms, because Audrey says she’s allergic) and finished with a secret blend of spices (insiders claim one of them is cinnamon!) Not to be missed.
10 p.m.
4. Cinema Paradise, Yo
Thanks to a recent renovation of the family room, my house now features what CNET crowned “the Most Underrated Mid-Range Flat Screen TV” of 2011 – you’ve never experienced movie night like this before! As long as you’re okay watching Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows again, because the wife and kids always are. No worries if you’re not, because a second screen is just a short walk away, in the master bedroom, where we swore we’d never put a TV, because a bedroom is for two things – sleeping and hoo-ha – but after nine years of marriage I guess it’s for three things.
Saturday
8 a.m.
5. A Taste of Paris
Though breakfast options abound, nothing will fuel you up for a busy day better than my famous French toast. Slices of white bread, battered to perfection, sprinkled with a secret blend of spices (cinnamon!), then cooked also to perfection. I know I should make it with challah bread, and I wish I could, but the local market doesn’t have much of an ethnic foods section.
9:30 a.m.
6. Swim, Batter-Batter!
After a hearty breakfast, it’s time to burn some calories driving Michael to baseball
practice and Audrey to swimming, while my wife goes to her Pilates class. We’ve
talked about divvying up the kid-driving on weekends, but yes, the baseball field is
pretty close to the sparkling new rec center pool (guest fee, $8), and no, I don’t know
what it’s like to lose your body giving birth twice.
1 p.m.
7. Lunch on a Roll
If you dare to venture off the interstate, the drive back from baseball and swimming can be a scenic delight. While Michael and Audrey sit silently in the back, their smell filling the car, their brains practically leaking into their headphones, dig into the bag of almonds you brought from the house and zone out to the trees whizzing by. About halfway home is an office park that I've been told "might be" architecturally "pretty good." It is certainly shiny. Though no tours are offered, the view from the parking lot is free – and worth every penny.
5 p.m.
8. Walking the Dog Again
Yeah, some days you’ve got to kind of tug that last bit of shit out of Jed’s fur. That’s why you bring the Wet Wipes.
7 p.m.
9. Far East, Not So Far
Sometimes at my house, you go to the food; but sometimes, you can let the food come to you. The menu drawer in the kitchen – next to the cabinet door that doesn’t close all the way because there’s something wrong with the hinge – offers a host of delivery possibilities. Try the Jade Garden, which features authentic Chinese, Japanese and Thai cuisine. Close your eyes as you bite into the mu shu pork, yellowtail sushi or shrimp pad thai, and you’ll swear you were in Beijing, Tokyo or the capital of Thailand. All without leaving the comfort of my house.
11:30 p.m.
10. Live from New York...
Theater lovers won’t want to miss Michael’s interpretation of Saturday Night Live, which is performed during commercial breaks. He does impressions of characters from the show, then creates elaborate scenes where they interact with characters of his own creation – it’s a hoot. My wife and I are pretty sure he’s high, but it’s really the best Michael we get all week, so we just kind of roll with it.
Sunday
1 p.m.
7. Lunch on a Roll
If you dare to venture off the interstate, the drive back from baseball and swimming can be a scenic delight. While Michael and Audrey sit silently in the back, their smell filling the car, their brains practically leaking into their headphones, dig into the bag of almonds you brought from the house and zone out to the trees whizzing by. About halfway home is an office park that I've been told "might be" architecturally "pretty good." It is certainly shiny. Though no tours are offered, the view from the parking lot is free – and worth every penny.
5 p.m.
8. Walking the Dog Again
Yeah, some days you’ve got to kind of tug that last bit of shit out of Jed’s fur. That’s why you bring the Wet Wipes.
7 p.m.
9. Far East, Not So Far
Sometimes at my house, you go to the food; but sometimes, you can let the food come to you. The menu drawer in the kitchen – next to the cabinet door that doesn’t close all the way because there’s something wrong with the hinge – offers a host of delivery possibilities. Try the Jade Garden, which features authentic Chinese, Japanese and Thai cuisine. Close your eyes as you bite into the mu shu pork, yellowtail sushi or shrimp pad thai, and you’ll swear you were in Beijing, Tokyo or the capital of Thailand. All without leaving the comfort of my house.
11:30 p.m.
10. Live from New York...
Theater lovers won’t want to miss Michael’s interpretation of Saturday Night Live, which is performed during commercial breaks. He does impressions of characters from the show, then creates elaborate scenes where they interact with characters of his own creation – it’s a hoot. My wife and I are pretty sure he’s high, but it’s really the best Michael we get all week, so we just kind of roll with it.
Sunday
8 a.m.
11. A Peaceful Farewell
Long before the rest of the house is awake, call the Pilates studio to confirm that my wife actually had a class yesterday. Then pour yourself a coffee and the half-sip of orange juice that one of the kids thoughtfully left in the carton and head out to the back deck. This is my house as the casual visitor never gets to see it – birds chirping over the occasional low hum of the septic pumping station; soft breeze rippling the sagging badminton net; a neighbor’s wife gardening in a bikini top, as if in answer to a silent prayer. In this moment, my house is truly a destination.
If You Go
Make sure to make a left at the entrance to The Creeks. The guards for East Creek seriously are dicks.
11. A Peaceful Farewell
Long before the rest of the house is awake, call the Pilates studio to confirm that my wife actually had a class yesterday. Then pour yourself a coffee and the half-sip of orange juice that one of the kids thoughtfully left in the carton and head out to the back deck. This is my house as the casual visitor never gets to see it – birds chirping over the occasional low hum of the septic pumping station; soft breeze rippling the sagging badminton net; a neighbor’s wife gardening in a bikini top, as if in answer to a silent prayer. In this moment, my house is truly a destination.
If You Go
Make sure to make a left at the entrance to The Creeks. The guards for East Creek seriously are dicks.
Hilarious.
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