Where did the time go?

When I was in grade school, we lived in a split level house on Oak Drive.  It was complete with Harvest Gold appliances and matching linoleum. We even had green shag carpet in our downstairs bathroom.  When I think back on that house, what pops in my head are the days of summer break.  The memories of those days are swirled together like a twist cone (a Kohr Brothers orange and vanilla cone- the one that taste like a dreamcicle-ohh-lala).  Each of the memories melded together where you can’t tell where one started and the other ended.

You got up every morning with the intention of getting your tail-end outside as quickly as possible.  And the rule was to be home before the street lights came on. My friends on our street were Elaine, Cathy and Keri.   We played in the creek, which was against every parent’s rules.   We laid in the grass looking for four leaf clovers and blowing on blades of grass to see who could whistle the loudest.  We would suck on honeysuckle convincing ourselves- Yep, this really taste like honey.

When no one could play, I’d climb the maple tree in our front yard.  I was the best spy.  I could sit in that tree for what I thought was hours.  Through the break in the leaves, I would watch the neighbors come and go. A tad creepy in hindsight.

Then one day for my birthday, I received the ultimate… a baby blue and white bike.  As I remember  that day, a spotlight of sun broke through the clouds and the blue glittered banana seat and handle bar streamers sparkled like stars in the heaven.  I think the angels broke out in song.  This was not just a beautiful bike, this was freedom.     This is when I started stealing change from my Dad’s change dish on his dresser.  Us girls would ride our freedom machines to the Marstellers.  For a mere 25 cents, you buy a Marathon bar.  If you don’t remember a Marathon bar, it was a braided looking candy bar of caramel covered in chocolate.  And even if you could only scrounge a nickel or a dime, you could still get Smarties or Candy Cigarettes.  If you got a good Candy Cigarette, it had a bunch of powdered sugar and you could make a couple of good “puffs”.
Every day of summer just happened.  You did what the day and your heart desired with no plan and no agenda.

If you wonder why you haven’t heard much from me in Nov and Dec that because I’ve had a true summer break.  There no agenda and each day was going where the day took you.  That could be collecting slugs with my nephew or hanging out with family, watching the game and throwing back a couple of cold ones.
November was an easy breezy month that very few of us get to experience as adults.

But alas, after Thanksgiving the time with family was over and we moved on to the next phase of our travels- a 21 day Caribbean, 15 island cruise in the month of Dec.   In the next couple installments find out….what kind of people can take a 21 day cruise?    Where to find the “best cool smoke” in the islands?  The trials and tribulations of making towel animals.

The Wheels on the Bus

The Driver on the Bus Says Move on Back- Move on Back

I love the bus.  As I mentioned in a previous blog, I rode the Peter Pan bus to NY City.  For a mere $40, I rode from Wilmington, DE to New York and back again.  From my math, I missed about $25 worth of tolls.  The toll just to get on the “Island” is $12.  If you look at tolls, gas and parking, this is th best bargain going.   

When I told my brother I was taking the bus, he told me to watch out for weird people.   I told him, I like weird people.  But let’s be honest, I like harmless weird people.  Secretly, I’m praying I don’t end up next to the guy who just got released for a rape and murder conviction.  But I end up sitting across from some Indian college kid. He was a sweet- looking, geeky dude with a big nose.  He was rocking out on his Ipod and quite honestly, I think he was reading a paper on quantum physics.  He scarfed down a whole can of BBQ Pringles.  He must have still been starving because he started to rip open a bag of peanuts like a virgin opening a condom package.  He was so worked up it shot peanuts around the bus like BBs.  He looked at me like he’d just been caught with his pants down to which I started to laugh.  So much for my rapist/murder.   

After the great weekend with my girlfriend, I headed back to the NY bus station.  There are 400 terminals. This is the Supersize of bus stations.  I grabbed a chocolate croissant and coffee and headed to my terminal.  I still had 30 minutes and walked into a snack bar to take a seat.  I looked around.  There was quite a few homeless folks sleeping at the random tables.  They each kept their bags under their feet or heads or in their laps.    I sat down and contemplated for a minute.  I look a little different.  And I smell a whole lot different, but officially I’m homeless.  Hmmm, maybe I’m one of the weird people.

New York- Part II

Asking someone if you can come” visit” is actually a strange proposition, except with your parents and your grandparents.  I can’t figure out why they always want to see my crazy butt, but they do.  God Bless ‘em.

But for the rest of your family and friends, it can be awkward.  It’s actually one of the few situations where you invite yourself to someone’s home or personal space.  And you are not only expecting just to see them but also sleep, eat, shower and pee in their space.   This also puts the askee in a strange position, too.  What if they don’t really like you as much as you think they do? I guess they can always say their out of town at that time.  Over the years, I’ve called friends and family to say” I’m going to be in your area, do you want a houseguest?”    I’ve been pretty fortunate, no one has said no. 

Then, there is the issue of how long.  A weekend is a good stint of time.  But I always wonder if I will stink like catfish after 3 days. Or is the saying goldfish?  As long as they have a shower, I try not to…stink that is.

The last issue is housekeeping etiquette.  This one gets me.  Obviously, I clean up after myself and I try to do a little more. I mean this is free room and board.  There should be a little payback.  But if you do all the dishes in the sink are you sending the message that they are a slob. Or do they appreciate it?  Also the sheet issue, do you make the bed or strip the sheets on your last morning?  They always tell you to leave it, but do they really mean it?

So back to my NY story… By the way Deanna had no dishes in the sink.   She didn’t even let me buy her dinner as payback.

When I originally asked Deanna my “Hey I’m in your area, do you want a houseguest?” question.  Her response was “Yes, but that is the weekend of the Sheep & Wool Festival.  Do you want to go?” To which my response was “That sounds awesome”.   When I told a couple of other people about this, they give me a strange look and a snicker.

Let me give you a little background.  Deanna taught me how to knit.  She still knits.  I suck at it but I appreciate it all the same.  Now, the picture I’ve painted of her to this point – savvy, cute New Yorker is not consistent with a typical knitter.    So let me just say, she taught me to knit in a bar at the Plaza at 4:30 on a Friday.  She is one of those cool knitters. She rarely has to look down.  Her fingers just move like they have a mind of their own.  She looks kinda cool knitting in a bar.  I, on the other hand, am not a cool knitter.  I’ve got the needles up next to my face, probably with my tongue hanging out, trying to figure out what I just did wrong.

So on Sunday, we went to the Sheep & Wool Festival.  It was about a 2 hour drive north of the city in a town called Rhinebeck.  And much to my surprise and delight… There were sheep. There was wool.  And there were surprisingly hot men there.  The first guy was shearing the sheep.  Kinda sexy.  Then, there were guys showing sheep and there was a guy working with the sheep and the kids.  We are talking sexy calendar-looking guys.  I was in sheep heaven.   And of course, there was really soft pretty wool and yarns. 

After the festival, we went to a nice little French restaurant.  Being the Midwestern girl that I am, I ordered the Osso Bucco .  With all that livestock around, I had worked up an awesome appetite.

Up next- Bumpkin rides the bus!

Subways and Protesters

New York Part 1

New York is so intriguing I’m splitting it into a 2 part series.  First, let me say my friend Deanna is the hostess with the mostest.  She was the ultimate tour guide, friend, story teller and chauffer. 

Friday-  Deanna came and picked me up from Club Applebee’s. She came in-laughed her famous ah-ha laugh and said “Only in New York- we have got to get out of here” (see the previous post).  With that, we walked a couple blocks to a little swanky African café and ordered a bottle of Chardonnay.  

There are certain friends that you have that you may not see for years, but you spend 5 minutes catching up and it feels like you just had lunch with them yesterday.  Deanna is one of those friends. 

So half way through the first glass, we were caught up on major life events including jobs and travel (kid and husband for me- string of hot men for her). So we are done our bottle of wine and a couple appetizers and I ask her if she has her phone on vibrate because about every 10-15 minutes the table shakes a bit.  “No, that‘s  the subway” .  Yep- I’m a bumpkin.

So afterwards we take the subway about 25 minutes to her apartment.  It’s a cool area that is in the process of “turning”.  It has a lot of green space and young people.  NY is a cool place with a ton of diversity, activities, bands, shopping and food.

Saturday we went on a walking tour of the city that included crafts in Chelsea, the farmers’ market, Soho, the Strand, China Town and a bunch of other neighborhoods.  By evening, we ended up at the Wall Street protest.  It was electrifying, depressing, inspirational and frustrating all wrapped into one.  There were people shouting, preaching, singing, drumming, sleeping, and watching everywhere.    I’m proud of people there wanting to be heard.  We all know something has to change and apathy is definitely not going to fix it.  But the frustration is… no one knows how to fix this mess we are in and it seems too big. 

But the key points of frustration from the protest were:

1)      Our government is corrupt and protects the rich.

2)      Corporations are greedy.

Honestly, those 2 points are nothing new but the feeling is that it is the government and corporate greed that got us into this economic mess and only the common person is paying the price.I’m really not a political person. The negativity wears on me but it’s irresponsible to be apathetic and ignore it. But that is exactly what I have been doing.

So here are the solutions for me.  You can disagree but I encourage you to figure out your own actions.

1)       Support a 3^rd party.  If you are a strong Republican or Democrat this sounds like hooey.  But ask yourself if your party is trying harder to do the right thing or support the party line.

2)      Buy stocks and products only from companies I deem ethical.   I don’t believe that laws should drive CEO compensation, the market should.  I am part of the market and I vote with my money.

3)      Buy local when possible.  I’d rather my money go to small businesses and my community than Walmart.  Now nobody I know is making toilet paper and if I find someone,  I don’t know if I’d buy it. So there has to be exceptions to this rule.

 I didn’t want to write about anything negative or too serious in my blog.  But being a wanderlust is about discovery and this was a little about political and self discovery for me. And of course after this experience, Deanna and I kicked back at an Irish pub with a burger and beer.  Whew.

Part II- Back to the Happy Place with some hot sheep shearing men!

Ommmmm- Calmness

Davey is in Florida remodeling his parent’s bathroom.  Last report, the electrical, the plumbing and the framing are complete.  This weekend, he starts to put up the sheet rock.  He is enjoying the nice weather and pool time with his niece. 

The past week and half has been really calming.  It’s like I just realized how crazy the past couple months have been.   I’ve had great family time, some good runs and a couple nice yoga sessions.    All the while, I’m still teaching my online classes.

There are not really many people that you can invade their house for a month and they ask if you can stay longer.  I’m lucky.  I’m staying with that couple.   Walter is a charismatic, cynical handy-man ( a strangely endearing combination).   Ruthie is the kindest, compulsive whirlwind you will ever meet. She leaves a trail of warm feelings, chocolate chip coffee cake and post it notes. 

Walter has every tool you can imagine in his garage workshop.  We pulled out the forge to play with some metal.  I love the smell of hot metal.  There are a couple different types of forges.  This one burns coal.  It’s like a frying pan with holes in the bottom.  Underneath it, a fan blows that makes the fire burn hotter.    You put your metal in the frying pan buried in the coal.  When the metal turns white hot, you pull it out and bang the hell out of it for about 30 seconds.  Then, you stick it back in the fire until it turns white hot again and repeat the process.  So I practiced with a nice iron rod.  (Side note: There could be a lot of innuendo in this description.)  We twisted, flattened and curled it.  Honestly, it looked pretty pathetic.  I’m not a natural.  But after that, we made two dinner triangles (bells).  Simple, but it provided a little sense of accomplishment and they actually turned out pretty cool.

Today, I took the Peter Pan Bus from Wilmington, DE to New York.  Don’t ask me why they call it the Peter Pan Bus; it’s just a version of a Greyhound bus.  I’m visiting my friend Deanna that used to live in Kansas City.  It’s Friday afternoon and I’m waiting in the Club Applebee’s bar for her to get off work.    I kid you not- the bartenders and waitresses are wearing black half shirts and bras and they are singing along to the loudest R &B playing in the bar.  One of the girls had the best pushup bra I had ever seen.  The bra and the effect were quite nice.   Better go - I’m ordering a Bacardi and diet coke and doing a little “popping” here in a minute…

Laudy Miss Clawdy

Second Stop-Memphis.

I’ve never been to Memphis and believe me a day and half was not enough.

Maybe I’m a geography idiot but I never realized the city basically sits on 3 states, TN, AR and MS.  We stayed in Horn Lake, MS.  That is five minutes from Graceland and 15 minutes from Beale Street.

The first item on the agenda was Graceland.  I can’t say Dave was jumping for joy that this was at the top of my list, especially when I mentioned it was $31/person with a coupon and $10 for parking.  Considering I was never an Elvis fan, I’m a little surprised I was so excited to see it.  I missed out on the Elvis phenomenon.  I was seven when Elvis died and at that point in my life the only music that was played in our house was John Denver and Barry Manilow.  No, I’m not kidding.

When my friend Joe went to visit the final resting spot of the king, he wore a white jumpsuit and sideburns.  He reminded me to take a box of Jelly Donuts to lay at the memorial.

Let me just tell you… It was worth every penny of the $72.  Dave even liked it.  The Mansion was smaller than we expected in a seedy part of town.  Ie pawn shops, bail bondsmen and lots of fast food spots.  But otherwise, it was totally cool.  One of my fav parts was the Bohemian room in the basement that also housed the pool table.  The walls and ceiling were covered with a multi-colored print fabric that had millions of gathers- a little like a circus tent.  The Lisa Marie plane was also a fav.  The plane had 2 bathrooms in Elvis’ favorite shade of blue, two sitting rooms, a conference room and a bedroom.  The whole interior was covered with blue suede and velvet.  There was a seat belt across the bed which was FAA regulation.

The house was 70’s style as would be expected, but not as gaudy as I was expecting.   Other highlights were the jungle room that lived up to its reputation and the auto museum was worth it…some super sweet rides.  That reminds me…  I had an awesome S’more waffle cone.

There was also some side “museums”  that were really just gift shops in disguise.  I shouldn’t even say disguise, it was pretty blatant.  But overall Graceland was two thumbs up and I have a new appreciation for the king of Rock and Roll.   I’ve been humming some crazy song called Laudy Miss Clawdy that he played in the 68 Special.  If you get bored check it out.

Next, was Beale Street.  Beale Street is much like Bourbon Street.  The street was blocked off and bands played on the sidewalks and in the bars.  But unfortunately, it was Monday night and it was a little dead.  But we stopped at a little Cajun joint and had some Jambalaya and Gumbo and then listened to some great jazz from a street band.   

I’ll add Memphis to my list to revisit.

Next stop- I go to Delaware and Dave heads to Florida.

Am I in Kansas Anymore?

Stop One-Anthony, Kansas

The first stop on the gypsy tour was Anthony, Kansas. 

It’s was a pretty drive.  The Flint Hills were turning yellowish rust and the sunflowers are everywhere.  If you are not from Kansas you may be picturing the “typical” huge sunflower.  Actually, wild sunflowers are more like yellow daisies that are caffeinated because they stick straight out from their stem.  But the flowers always face the sun.

The other thing non-Kansasans don’t know…  That people from Kansas do know that they are not in Kansas anymore. 

Anthony is about 2000 people and home of my 86 year old Grandpa- Bob.  My Grandpa is a storyteller.  This visit, he tells me he has had a good life and the good Lord has taken care of him.  He survived 2 plane crashes during WWII.

Bob was a bombardier during the war.  He was in the” bubble”. It was a key spot on the crew.  One for the obvious reason of shooting the enemy, two because you had good visibility to what was going on around the plane.  The bubble was tight quarters.    He said he would have a Charlie Horse in every muscle in his body when he climbed out of the bubble.

There were 9 guys on the crew.  They were flying in the Berlin area when they were hit by Flak or Anti- aircraft artillery which is shot from the ground.  They went down in a field 30 miles south of Berlin.  As they came down, two French women and a French man ran across the field to meet them .  The threesome hustled the crew to an abandon barn.  For two weeks, they traveled at night hiding in bombed out buildings. Eventually, they got to the British border.    

Side Note:  My Grandpa is a player.  He really likes the ladies.  So he also throws in that he was accused of “keeping warm” between the two French ladies.  I not sure if I buy this. The logistics of 10 men and 2 women sleeping in bombed out buildings seems a little sketchy.  But hey- if you thought you might get caught at any moment by the Germans and tortured… Get it while the getting is good.

Six missions later, the plane went down because they were out of gas.  They went down near an abandoned airfield.  There were cans of gas on the field.  They formed a line and passed the cans from man to man getting enough gas into the tank.  After taking off, there was a hammering on the side of the plane.  The captain yelled back at Bob to check if the hammering was a loose strap.  Hell no-Bob yelled down those boys are shooting us.  They “high-tailed” it out of there before anything critical was shot.

Moral of the story :  Get tail or high tail.

Next stop Memphis- Final resting place of the king!

Getting Ready… Holy Tuna Batman…This is harder than you think.

A couple of my friends have asked me to keep them posted on our travels.  Well just in case they were saying that just to be nice, I’m posting a blog instead of sending spam.

So here is my first blog.

Let me just tell you packing a storage area, a pickup and a BMW for the long term is harder than you think.  Every single item in our house was sorted into 3 buckets: Storage, Goodwill or in the car.

Some decisions were easy.  Did I really need 20 copies of the Dec 1987 issue of my high school newspaper?  I was editor and all, but really.  One copy is enough, unless I plan on selling them at our 25 year reunion. They were 25 cents in high school, probably not worth keeping.

Other decisions were not so easy. If you are a chick or a gay man, imagine narrowing your whole wardrobe down to fit in a 3 series BMW trunk.   I have had trips to Hy-Vee that more than fill that trunk.  Some of my favorite sweaters got voted out of the BMW to the purgatory that is the Extra Storage garage.

I did a couple trial runs.  There are 30 hangers of clothes, 21 pairs of shoes, a file box, a bottle of Baileys and an extra large bottle of gin that fit in that trunk.    In the back seat, there is a large and small suitcase, a yoga mat, 3 storage totes, a lap top and a printer.  In the front seat, there is a toiletry bag and a mini cooler.

Now granted, Dave has the pickup and the trailer.  So he has our bikes, golf clubs and a whole crap load of tools.  So for him, my clothes dilemma is his tool dilemma.  He has no qualms about the decision to wear only 10 shirts, 4 pairs of shoes, a bathing suit, shorts and a couple pairs of jeans for the foreseeable future.  But ask him which saw got voted out of the trailer.  I think I may have seen a hack saw in the Extra Storage purgatory, otherwise the other 21 saws are making a roadtrip.

The other thing is groceries.  I have a problem throwing away food.  It may have been in my pantry for 5 years, but I have waited until the day before we close on the house to toss it.  Ashley ended up with some Kashi, a ton of spices, the most monstrous jar of pickles, kidney beans, cherry pie filling and miscellaneous crap.  Just what she was hoping for…

Our closing is tomorrow Sept 28^th, but we turn over possession noon on Sept 30.  First stop-Anthony, Kansas.