Irish Wolfhound

Just as the motel faced a busy July 4, I fell over my grey Irish wolfhound and broke my arm. What a mess. I sat on the sidewalk with her and wondered how on earth I would get up, much less get back to the motel. It did work out though, but I’m still in a splint.

Everything seems to need attention when you open a motel that has been closed for a few years: like moss on the west end of the roof that somehow has to be removed. The drive needs a resurface. The carpet is okay, but won’t be in a couple of years. Roots get into the sewerage system—lovely trees, but bad roots.

My grand kids are drawing pictures to put on the guests' beds and we are putting flowers in the rooms. The former owner was a master gardener and so flowers bloom all over the property.

So far, Debbie and I love running this motel.

We are not nearly as booked as other motels. The chains are very busy—Holiday Inn, Day’s Inn, and Best Western. People know what to expect there. They don’t with me. When they see my review, they must wonder, are the rooms as special as this owner says they are? We know the chain motels are so nice, so let's go there. I'm trying to highlight our inn as charming and close to the beach--300 strides. The chains are 2 or more miles from the beach.