"What made you choose to be an innkeeper?" people ask me in a tone that ranges anywhere from admiration to perplexed dirision- (some members of my extended family might as well be asking "Why did you put brussel sprouts on your ice cream?"). I had a childhood friend tell me that I had once said that is what I would grow up to do, but I don't think so. I don't think it was something I seriously considered until I lived next door to the Chichester-Mckee Bed and Breakfast, and Bill and Doreen asked us to be their "Innsitters". But the seeds were planted long before in my childhood.

One of my greatest childhood fortunes was to spend every other summer at my grandmother's house in Scotland. During these trips, my family would always take a week's vacation. These were great adventures where we would explore the Scottish highlands or north of England with no advanced reservations, always staying at rustic bed and breakfasts. Britain is the country where the bed and breakfast tradition began, mostly with older couples supplementing their pensions by renting out their now-grown children's bedrooms. Often, we would see a hand painted sign on a fencepost on which was scrawled "B&B". We soon learned these were the best kind, and they still stand out clearly in my memory.

Once we stayed at a working farm. The old farmer took me out to watch his border collies round up his sheep and bring them down from the hill. Later, I found myself stuck on top of a stone wall between a bull on one side and 3 curious cows on the other. After about 15 minutes I decided the cows were the safest bet and climbed down that way. That I am still here today is evidence to the fact I made the right choice. The farmer showed me how to milk them, BY HAND, and the farmers wife took me around to collect eggs for my breakfast. Her chickens were free range, but somehow she knew every nook and cranny they liked to hide their eggs in. I decided to be a farmer's wife that day. I keep chickens today because of her.

Another time we stayed at a B&B right on the seaside. The back garden had a gate that opened out onto the beach, and I spent happy hours collecting tumbled bits of broken bottles, which looked to me like jewels. I tossed in a couple of bottles myself, stuffed with notes and my address. After dark I sat in the window and counted the flashes from the two lighthouses I could see on either side of the beach and read a funny book I found there called "Top Dog".This particular B&B had one drawback. It had only one bathroom but offered 6 different bars of used soap.

Staying in "Beatrix Potter" country (Peter Rabbit) I remember staying at an inn which had 3 children, one of them a girl of my own age. This girl had HER OWN PONY and let me ride it. I thought she must be the luckiest girl in the world. She also painted ceramic figurines of the Beatrix Potter characters, and sold them to guests in the dining room, and I bought quite a few. We stayed there about 4 days and one thing I recall did not strike me as funny until I had my own inn. The father, who served breakfast in the morning, was asked by a different guest every morning "But what is it you DO for a living? I mean, what is your job?" In response to this, the innkeeper would turn various shades of purple and declare "This IS my job!! THIS is what I do for a living!" I know my husband can relate to this response.From this inn I learned you CAN run a bed and breakfast with children, if you make sure they are quiet, well-behaved, and stay on THEIR side of the house.

There were a couple of Inns I was not a fan of. One of them, in it's shared bathroom, had a SHARED bidet. I remember circling this stange object with much suspicion. In addition, above it hung a large, framed, black and white photograph. It was of two ladies in tennis attire, exiting the tennis court at sunset. One of them was reaching back and discovered she had forgotten to wear underpants. I was horrified! You could actually see part of her bum. I was sure I had landed in some kind of den of iniquity. I learned from this inn that some aspects of your sense of humor may be best kept to yourself.

Another Inn I would not return to was more of a hotel on the Isle of Skye. We arrived in our room to see a huge square mound in each bed. We pulled back the covers to reveal an object that looked very much like a rabbit cage with a red light bulb in the middle...our "bed warmers", apparently. The next morning, we returned to our room after breakfast to discover ALL the sheets and blankets had been removed for washing already. I suppose that is one way to ensure your guests don't linger after check-out, but certainly one I would never use!!

The bed and breakfast tradition is changing, I have noticed, at least in America. A small number of my guests have expectations for this new kind of bed and breakfast. Often, these folks have only stayed bed and breakfasts in places like Napa or Vail, (and otherwise only stay in luxury hotels.) These new "bed and breakfasts" are owned by several people as investments, and have staff and maids, desk persons and gardeners. That is not what we are at our inn! My husband is the chef, and we clean each room between guests ourselves. I am the head gardener. I have selected every piece of furniture, decoration, and book in our library myself. We do the repairs ourselves when possible. We serve the breakfast, and then sit down with our guests and chat over a cup of coffee. We ENJOY our guests, and see them as potential friends. We value them as the most enjoyable part of our job. We think it shows. We are the most proud of our reviews which rave "We felt like family!" And, dear guests, we feel that way about you too!

My first entry

I have been told several times that my life is unusual, and that I should blog. An incident happened this weekend that has convinced me that they may be right. When I was 29, my husband and I, with 10 month old baby in tow, opened a bed and breakfast inn. Ten years later, we are still running the inn, but now with 4 children along for the wild ride. It is very true that I often think to myself "The other innkeepers never have to deal with THIS!" or even "The other mothers don't have to deal with THIS!" Last Thursday night was one of these occasions.

I was sound asleep in bed when the phone rang at midnight. It was a young couple who had been blocked from continuing to their destination by a snowstorm and a downed power line, and had been in the car for 12 hours. They needed a safe place to stay where they did not need to worry about unloading their belongings from their car. I gave them directions, hung up, jumped out of bed, and quickly began turning on all the lights and heat in the inn, and checking to see that all was in general good order. I glanced out the front window and that is when I SAW IT. "Tom, Tom, TOM!!!!" I started shouting, and he came staggering in, still half asleep. I quickly began to explain the scenario which was about to ensue if we did not take immediate action. The young couple, worn and exhausted, would pull into our driveway. As they came around the corner, their headlights would light up the parking spot immediately in front of our entrance. There, right in the center, they would see it- a 3-foot-high snowman, it's stony mouth grinning cheerily, stick arms outstretched, its head liberally SOAKED with tomato ketchup. (Apparently, this was seen as HILARIOUS by my 10-year-old son and his best friend. A bloody snowman. Haha!) They would then, I predicted, beat a hasty retreat to the local Best Western.

Tom knew just what to do. He grabbed his car keys, jumped into the minivan, and plowed into the snowman, crushing its bleeding noggin in a matter of seconds, and leaving it to melt somewhere beneath the undercarriage. With only minutes to spare, he dashed inside just in time to greet our world-weary guests, who never knew the gory sight that almost welcomed them. As I crawled back into bed, I once again sighed "The other innkeepers never have to deal with THIS!"

(Dear Prospective Guests, we want to reassure that this is NOT the typical atmosphere around out inn. Just one of those things we have to be ready for. We are, like ducks, serene above the water and paddling like crazy below!)