Miles traveled: 400
Hours on Road: 8.5
States covered: 5 – Virginia, Delaware, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut
Well, we did it. We circled nearly the entire country, and we made it home safely. Forty-six days of living out of a van, and we loved every minute of it. I knew from the beginning that we were meant to be vagabonds or, in my kids’ word, hobos (one who wanders from place to place without a permanent home or a means of livelihood). The minimalist life is not to be underrated.
The ride was uneventful. Since I woke the kids up at 5:00 a.m. to leave, they slept a good deal of the ride, which made it very peaceful for me. They were awake during our drive around Washington DC, where I finalized my decision that Parker will never get his driver’s license. He wouldn’t stop complaining that I was being passed by everyone on the road. I told him I was going the speed limit, to which he commented, to his own detriment, that “You never get anywhere going the speed limit.” Not a wise thing to tell your mom.
He also reinforced his childishness when he insisted on taking a photo of the sign that indicated Manassas, which of course, he’d read as Man asses. He also made me speed up to get photos of two cars: one had an autobot symbol on its back window and one had the license plate “Faja.” The things I do for that boy.
Near the end of our drive we decided we were so anxious to see Faja that we got off the exit in Danbury and headed to his place of work. You need to be buzzed in to the office area, so we stood outside the door and I called him:
Me: Hi, where are you?
Jeff: Why, where are you?
Me: Right outside your office door. If you come open it, we can give you hugs.
Jeff: Uh, I’m home. I got out early to surprise you.
In the back of my mind I had thought he might do that, but I had wanted so badly to surprise him that I put that thought out of my mind.
Even with that stop, we were home by 2:30. We had a relaxing afternoon, with a nice visit from Missy. Then Pam and Tiff came over, followed shortly by Brian and Ham and later by Trisha, Rod, and Liv. It was great to see everyone again. The spontaneous party reminded of why I love to be home.
There is no need to go to the corresponding photo because it is only a picture of the Manassas sign. That boy!!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Day 45 – Richmond, VA
Miles traveled: 460
Hours on Road: 8
States covered: 3 – South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia
We were sad to leave Jen’s. We hate goodbyes. But now we’re officially on our way home. We drove through more rain, surprise, surprise. I think the boys are getting excited about being home because they’re really starting to annoy me with the noise and hyperactivity. I was like the Grinch the whole ride, “Stop all that noise, noise, noise, noise.” I ranted so long at one point, it became comical. This trip has done in any authority I may have once had. The Pilot don’t get no respect. They all fell asleep at one point, and it was like heaven. When Trey woke up, he asked if I had enjoyed the quiet time. He said he wasn’t even tired, but he made himself fall asleep to give me a break.
The teasing amongst us has become merciless. One slip of the tongue and everyone’s all over you. Parker picked on Trey for saying something stupid today, and all Trey could come back with is, “I’m smart, I just don’t use it around you!”
I didn’t realize when I made the reservations at this Best Western just outside of Richmond that it is, literally, right next to King’s Dominion – a huge amusement park. The boys dropped their jaws when we arrived, and they’re chomping at the bit to head on over there. Trey keeps looking out the window because, of course, it overlooks the park. There are several huge roller coasters that look like a blast, but there’s just no time.
I’ve made them catch up on their journals. They haven’t written in them since Crater of Diamonds. It’s worse than pulling teeth getting them to sit still. I supposed I shouldn’t blame them; we were in the van for, as Cal put it, “longer than a school day.”
We’ll be home tomorrow. Day 46, and we’ll finally be home. I’ve had a better time than I even imagined, and if the trip were longer, I’d be gung-ho to continue. But knowing that tomorrow is our last day, I’m very much looking forward to being home. I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading about our travels: the ups, the downs, the craziness. We’ve sure had fun!
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2027335027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 8
States covered: 3 – South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia
We were sad to leave Jen’s. We hate goodbyes. But now we’re officially on our way home. We drove through more rain, surprise, surprise. I think the boys are getting excited about being home because they’re really starting to annoy me with the noise and hyperactivity. I was like the Grinch the whole ride, “Stop all that noise, noise, noise, noise.” I ranted so long at one point, it became comical. This trip has done in any authority I may have once had. The Pilot don’t get no respect. They all fell asleep at one point, and it was like heaven. When Trey woke up, he asked if I had enjoyed the quiet time. He said he wasn’t even tired, but he made himself fall asleep to give me a break.
The teasing amongst us has become merciless. One slip of the tongue and everyone’s all over you. Parker picked on Trey for saying something stupid today, and all Trey could come back with is, “I’m smart, I just don’t use it around you!”
I didn’t realize when I made the reservations at this Best Western just outside of Richmond that it is, literally, right next to King’s Dominion – a huge amusement park. The boys dropped their jaws when we arrived, and they’re chomping at the bit to head on over there. Trey keeps looking out the window because, of course, it overlooks the park. There are several huge roller coasters that look like a blast, but there’s just no time.
I’ve made them catch up on their journals. They haven’t written in them since Crater of Diamonds. It’s worse than pulling teeth getting them to sit still. I supposed I shouldn’t blame them; we were in the van for, as Cal put it, “longer than a school day.”
We’ll be home tomorrow. Day 46, and we’ll finally be home. I’ve had a better time than I even imagined, and if the trip were longer, I’d be gung-ho to continue. But knowing that tomorrow is our last day, I’m very much looking forward to being home. I hope you’ve all enjoyed reading about our travels: the ups, the downs, the craziness. We’ve sure had fun!
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2027335027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Day 44 – Mount Pleasant, SC, Day 2
Miles traveled: Jen drove
Hours on Road: Mostly in and out of the car
States covered: 1 – South Carolina
Jen made us breakfast tacos and we had a relaxing morning. Trey was relentless about going to the pool, so we finally went. Jen had told us about the great slide they have there; it’s really long, like one you’d find at a water park, and you go down it on a raft. She had given us the option of driving or walking to the pool and, because she had said the walk was doable, I decided we should walk. Partway there, Trey, who had become very comfortable with Jen very quickly, started making wiseass comments about the “doable” walk. It was a very hot day and he was rapidly losing interest in walking, so he was giving her a hard time in the way only Trey (or Grampa Huey) could do.
Sadly, when we got there, the slide was closed. The boys had fun playing around in the water, anyway. It was so hot and humid, when I took my camera out the lens fogged up. I cleaned it off, but the photos I took that morning were all a bit hazy. It was hilarious to watch Jen and the boys create swimming challenges for each other and then compete to see who could do them the best.
After the pool, Jen drove us around to sight see; we were all too hot to do much more walking. We nearly melted on the walk home from the pool. The first place was visited was Isle of Palms. I’d been there as a kid a couple of times. Chris and John lived in South Carolina for a while, and when I was young, we generally vacationed wherever it was they lived. The evening I remember most vividly was when I was about 11, which would make Trisha 13, John 4, and Matt 2. Trisha and I were left to babysit the youngins while the older folks went out for dinner. Immediately after the door shut behind Chrissy, Matt started wailing this cry that I was certain they heard in the parking lot – but chose to ignore. The kid was relentless. After a full hour of what should have tired out any normal child, he was still going strong. That’s when I discovered that if I sang one particular song he’d stop his shrieking. It wasn’t even crying; it was more excruciating than that. So, for the next three hours, Trisha and I took turns singing, “Oh, there was a little chickie and he wouldn’t lay an egg, so they rubbed hot water up and down his leg. And the little chickie hollered and the little chickie begged, and the little chickie laid a hardboiled egg. Bum, bum, de, dum, dum. Dum, dum.” The poor chickie, he couldn’t lay an egg cause he was a boy!! But this kept Matt quiet. Even with all that crying, he still turned out to be one of my favorite people!!
After reliving that nightmare, I told the boys I’d get them something to eat. Jen suggested hot dogs at Jack’s Cosmic Hot Dog. What a great suggestion. It was an eclectic place that, if it were anything other than quaint, it might be considered dirty. The chandelier over our heads was made of tea cups with teaspoons hanging off them, there was an old-fashioned child’s pay-a-quarter-for-a-ride red car out front, an antique soda machine, and several torpedoes around the property. I loved the place! The food was great, too, though the Littles got only plain hotdogs.
We then went to see the battery in Charleston. Jen knew so much about the area it was like having our own personal tour guide. I got a photo of the kids at the cannons, and I told them to frown just like I had in a photo that was taken of me and John in that same spot (probably right after the crying incident, so that would explain the frown on my face). He and I were wearing matching shirts and for some reason I looked completely pissed off.
We toured the campus of Jen’s alma mater and saw a couple of the places where she’d lived. What a great place to go to school, right in the heart of Charleston, SC. After that we parked and walked though the open air shops, which are wonderful now but were once the site of slave selling back when that shameful institution existed in America. I bought a beautiful grass basket that had been weaved by the older gentleman selling it. The people who make these baskets collect the grass themselves and must pass along the tradition generationally. I could afford only a small one because they’re very expensive, rightfully so. It’s like with the pottery out west; those who are talented make exceptionally artful pieces. The boys have all run out of money, but to keep them interested in shopping I gave them each $20 to spend. That’s the only souvenir money I’ve given them on this trip. Parker and Cal both bought wooden cutouts that the maker had painted. He fashioned them after college basketball teams, so Parker bought the Army one and Cal got a Cincinnati one, only because it was a big C. Trey bought himself a fedora, which he’s wanted since second grade when his class performed the “Singing in the Rain” portion of the second-grade play. He looks rather dapper in it. Since the hat cost only $10, he also bought a photograph of trees and flowers framing a tiny cabin. He felt that the trees looked like the whomping willows from Harry Potter. As we were leaving, Parker spied a drawing of Biggie Smalls that he really wanted. He said he didn’t even like Rap, but Biggie Smalls was totally cool. I told him if it was less than $10 I’d get it for him. It was just a print of the original drawing, so it was only $10. Shoot, I’d thought for sure it would be more. So we’re now the proud owners of a Biggie Smalls print.
Jen, like Tim, thought it was important that we had a bumper sticker from her area, so that’s what we got next. It doesn’t say South Carolina, but it’s the palmetto tree, so anyone who knows their states will know what state it belongs to.
Jen also felt it was very important that we experience the Piggly Wiggly grocery store, and she insisted on buying the boys T-shirts from said store. They love their new shirts. We also picked up a movie at the store: “The Bounty Hunter.”
We got Chick Fil-A again, only this time, we ate it at home, by candlelight, with Biggie Smalls. We all had wine glasses, except Biggie, and placemats, and we dined by candlelight, with Biggie in the center of the table. It was exquisite.
While we watched Bounty Hunter, Cal had an allergic reaction; we don’t know to what. He had a cat on his lap, a new T-shirt on, and he hadn’t put his new “C” down since we finished dinner. It could have been any number of things. Jen gave him some Benadryl, but it didn’t really help. I had him sleep with me that night so I could keep an eye on him. By morning he looked fine (eyes back to normal), but his nose was still stuffed.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2026888027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: Mostly in and out of the car
States covered: 1 – South Carolina
Jen made us breakfast tacos and we had a relaxing morning. Trey was relentless about going to the pool, so we finally went. Jen had told us about the great slide they have there; it’s really long, like one you’d find at a water park, and you go down it on a raft. She had given us the option of driving or walking to the pool and, because she had said the walk was doable, I decided we should walk. Partway there, Trey, who had become very comfortable with Jen very quickly, started making wiseass comments about the “doable” walk. It was a very hot day and he was rapidly losing interest in walking, so he was giving her a hard time in the way only Trey (or Grampa Huey) could do.
Sadly, when we got there, the slide was closed. The boys had fun playing around in the water, anyway. It was so hot and humid, when I took my camera out the lens fogged up. I cleaned it off, but the photos I took that morning were all a bit hazy. It was hilarious to watch Jen and the boys create swimming challenges for each other and then compete to see who could do them the best.
After the pool, Jen drove us around to sight see; we were all too hot to do much more walking. We nearly melted on the walk home from the pool. The first place was visited was Isle of Palms. I’d been there as a kid a couple of times. Chris and John lived in South Carolina for a while, and when I was young, we generally vacationed wherever it was they lived. The evening I remember most vividly was when I was about 11, which would make Trisha 13, John 4, and Matt 2. Trisha and I were left to babysit the youngins while the older folks went out for dinner. Immediately after the door shut behind Chrissy, Matt started wailing this cry that I was certain they heard in the parking lot – but chose to ignore. The kid was relentless. After a full hour of what should have tired out any normal child, he was still going strong. That’s when I discovered that if I sang one particular song he’d stop his shrieking. It wasn’t even crying; it was more excruciating than that. So, for the next three hours, Trisha and I took turns singing, “Oh, there was a little chickie and he wouldn’t lay an egg, so they rubbed hot water up and down his leg. And the little chickie hollered and the little chickie begged, and the little chickie laid a hardboiled egg. Bum, bum, de, dum, dum. Dum, dum.” The poor chickie, he couldn’t lay an egg cause he was a boy!! But this kept Matt quiet. Even with all that crying, he still turned out to be one of my favorite people!!
After reliving that nightmare, I told the boys I’d get them something to eat. Jen suggested hot dogs at Jack’s Cosmic Hot Dog. What a great suggestion. It was an eclectic place that, if it were anything other than quaint, it might be considered dirty. The chandelier over our heads was made of tea cups with teaspoons hanging off them, there was an old-fashioned child’s pay-a-quarter-for-a-ride red car out front, an antique soda machine, and several torpedoes around the property. I loved the place! The food was great, too, though the Littles got only plain hotdogs.
We then went to see the battery in Charleston. Jen knew so much about the area it was like having our own personal tour guide. I got a photo of the kids at the cannons, and I told them to frown just like I had in a photo that was taken of me and John in that same spot (probably right after the crying incident, so that would explain the frown on my face). He and I were wearing matching shirts and for some reason I looked completely pissed off.
We toured the campus of Jen’s alma mater and saw a couple of the places where she’d lived. What a great place to go to school, right in the heart of Charleston, SC. After that we parked and walked though the open air shops, which are wonderful now but were once the site of slave selling back when that shameful institution existed in America. I bought a beautiful grass basket that had been weaved by the older gentleman selling it. The people who make these baskets collect the grass themselves and must pass along the tradition generationally. I could afford only a small one because they’re very expensive, rightfully so. It’s like with the pottery out west; those who are talented make exceptionally artful pieces. The boys have all run out of money, but to keep them interested in shopping I gave them each $20 to spend. That’s the only souvenir money I’ve given them on this trip. Parker and Cal both bought wooden cutouts that the maker had painted. He fashioned them after college basketball teams, so Parker bought the Army one and Cal got a Cincinnati one, only because it was a big C. Trey bought himself a fedora, which he’s wanted since second grade when his class performed the “Singing in the Rain” portion of the second-grade play. He looks rather dapper in it. Since the hat cost only $10, he also bought a photograph of trees and flowers framing a tiny cabin. He felt that the trees looked like the whomping willows from Harry Potter. As we were leaving, Parker spied a drawing of Biggie Smalls that he really wanted. He said he didn’t even like Rap, but Biggie Smalls was totally cool. I told him if it was less than $10 I’d get it for him. It was just a print of the original drawing, so it was only $10. Shoot, I’d thought for sure it would be more. So we’re now the proud owners of a Biggie Smalls print.
Jen, like Tim, thought it was important that we had a bumper sticker from her area, so that’s what we got next. It doesn’t say South Carolina, but it’s the palmetto tree, so anyone who knows their states will know what state it belongs to.
Jen also felt it was very important that we experience the Piggly Wiggly grocery store, and she insisted on buying the boys T-shirts from said store. They love their new shirts. We also picked up a movie at the store: “The Bounty Hunter.”
We got Chick Fil-A again, only this time, we ate it at home, by candlelight, with Biggie Smalls. We all had wine glasses, except Biggie, and placemats, and we dined by candlelight, with Biggie in the center of the table. It was exquisite.
While we watched Bounty Hunter, Cal had an allergic reaction; we don’t know to what. He had a cat on his lap, a new T-shirt on, and he hadn’t put his new “C” down since we finished dinner. It could have been any number of things. Jen gave him some Benadryl, but it didn’t really help. I had him sleep with me that night so I could keep an eye on him. By morning he looked fine (eyes back to normal), but his nose was still stuffed.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2026888027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Day 43 – Mount Pleasant, SC, Day 1
Miles traveled: 355
Hours on Road: 6
States covered: 2 – Georgia, South Carolina
As we were getting ready to leave, Tim realized we didn’t have a Peachtree City bumper sticker, and he thought that was unacceptable. While we packed up, he ran out and bought not only a bumper sticker but also t-shirts for the boys. He’d also spent the morning making sandwiches for us and proceeded to fill the cooler with soda, chips, and the sandwiches. He certainly takes care of his houseguests.
None of us wanted to leave, we’d been having so much fun. Time constraints had not allowed us to stay with any relatives for more than two nights, but there was also a little of the “leave them wanting more” philosophy going on in my head. I didn’t want to stay with anyone so long that they were anxious for us to leave. I know us; it doesn’t take long to overstay our welcome.
The ride was pretty uneventful. It was supposed to take us five and half hours and it took us six, so that’s about right. We didn’t have to stop for lunch because Tim had provided us with everything we needed. The only traffic issue occurred when we first got on 26; traffic was poking along at about 30 mph, occasionally picking up to 40. I figured it was beach traffic since we were on the road from Columbia to Charleston. We had 102 miles to go on the road, so I was starting to think it might have been a bad idea to plan on going there on a Friday. At about 12 miles in, we discovered what the problem was. A tractor-trailer was on its side down a six-foot embankment to the right. That couldn’t have been fun. Trey rambled on about how lucky the driver was that he hadn’t been in England because then he’d have been on the side that was smashed because they drive on the other side of the road. Because we laughed about our inability to understand what the heck he’d said, he provided a lengthy, hostile, red-faced, guttural explanation, which we still didn’t understand but decided we’d pretend we did so he’d calm down. (I just now asked him what he meant and he very calmly told me that, in England, the driver would have been sitting on the right side of the cab so when it fell over to the right it would have landed on the side he was sitting on.)
We got to Jen’s about the same time she did. Her apartment is great. While we relaxed, she went out and got stuff for dinner and then made us two pizzas and two chicken, pesto, cheese, and spinach Panini’s. She also had some ice-cold beers in the fridge and ice cream in the freezer.
We hung out and talked and watched TV to very late in the night. She gave us the two beds upstairs while she slept on the couch. I got the king-size bed that I had to share with Trey, but the bed was so big and he’s so small, I could barely see him on the other side, over there.
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2026452027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 6
States covered: 2 – Georgia, South Carolina
As we were getting ready to leave, Tim realized we didn’t have a Peachtree City bumper sticker, and he thought that was unacceptable. While we packed up, he ran out and bought not only a bumper sticker but also t-shirts for the boys. He’d also spent the morning making sandwiches for us and proceeded to fill the cooler with soda, chips, and the sandwiches. He certainly takes care of his houseguests.
None of us wanted to leave, we’d been having so much fun. Time constraints had not allowed us to stay with any relatives for more than two nights, but there was also a little of the “leave them wanting more” philosophy going on in my head. I didn’t want to stay with anyone so long that they were anxious for us to leave. I know us; it doesn’t take long to overstay our welcome.
The ride was pretty uneventful. It was supposed to take us five and half hours and it took us six, so that’s about right. We didn’t have to stop for lunch because Tim had provided us with everything we needed. The only traffic issue occurred when we first got on 26; traffic was poking along at about 30 mph, occasionally picking up to 40. I figured it was beach traffic since we were on the road from Columbia to Charleston. We had 102 miles to go on the road, so I was starting to think it might have been a bad idea to plan on going there on a Friday. At about 12 miles in, we discovered what the problem was. A tractor-trailer was on its side down a six-foot embankment to the right. That couldn’t have been fun. Trey rambled on about how lucky the driver was that he hadn’t been in England because then he’d have been on the side that was smashed because they drive on the other side of the road. Because we laughed about our inability to understand what the heck he’d said, he provided a lengthy, hostile, red-faced, guttural explanation, which we still didn’t understand but decided we’d pretend we did so he’d calm down. (I just now asked him what he meant and he very calmly told me that, in England, the driver would have been sitting on the right side of the cab so when it fell over to the right it would have landed on the side he was sitting on.)
We got to Jen’s about the same time she did. Her apartment is great. While we relaxed, she went out and got stuff for dinner and then made us two pizzas and two chicken, pesto, cheese, and spinach Panini’s. She also had some ice-cold beers in the fridge and ice cream in the freezer.
We hung out and talked and watched TV to very late in the night. She gave us the two beds upstairs while she slept on the couch. I got the king-size bed that I had to share with Trey, but the bed was so big and he’s so small, I could barely see him on the other side, over there.
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2026452027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Day 42 – Peachtree City, GA, Day 2
Miles traveled: Doesn’t matter because Tim drove!!
Hours on Road: Don’t care!!
States covered: 1 – Georgia
After a great breakfast of homemade pancakes and coffee (for me, not the kids) we headed out for the Georgia Aquarium, the largest aquarium in the world, donated to Atlanta by Bernie Marcus, co-founder of Home Depot. It was amazing. Each tank is full of thousands of fish, and most of the tanks are positioned to not only stand in front of the viewer, but to also stand overtop as well, so you get the feeling of being in the tank with the marine life. I was particularly excited to see the whale sharks; and they did not disappoint. We timed our viewing of them perfectly because divers were in the water and we could get a real feel for just how large the whale sharks were when they swam by the divers. The three in the tank were not full grown and they were already 15 to 20 feet long. The rays looked like they were playing in the divers’ bubbles, doing back flips and swimming through the froth. According to the person with the microphone, they were doing the back flips in an effort to catch krill. I think they were playing.
We also petted some small rays and little sharks, both of which felt smooth and spongy. I was surprised that the sharks were so smooth. We saw penguins, beluga whales, seals, otters, seahorses, sea dragons – I think we saw everything the sea has to offer except an octopus. They might have had one there, but we didn’t see it. We were there for a good two hours.
After the aquarium we drove around in downtown Atlanta. Tim was mainly looking for a Chick Fil-A, which I now know how to spell, but we couldn’t find one in the downtown area. We decided to head back to Peachtree City to find one. One thing that amazed me about downtown Atlanta was, where two lanes narrowed down to one lane as they joined with a larger road, people were not expected (or trusted) to merge of their own accord. Two lights were placed at the entrance to the larger road and they alternately flashed red then green. Neither stayed red or green for an extended period of time. One stayed green long enough for one car to pass through, then it turned red, while the other light turned green, as if the people of the area could not comprehend the concept of taking turns. I suppose it’s a good idea here in the east, where people are in such a hurry. Out west, when a sign on the highway said that a lane was to end, the people would move over to the other lane right then and there. In the east, when it says a lane is to end, the drivers hang on to the last possible second before jamming their way into a place not willingly made available between two cars. It runs so much more smoothly out west.
On the drive back to Peachtree, Tim informed me that the gun I shot at John’s was not a Six Hour 9-millimeter, but a Sig Sauer 9-millimeter. Parker said he knew that it was spelled that way. I guess I was the only uninformed participant. That’s not the only thing I’ve messed up on this trip. Whenever the song “Replay” by Iyaz comes on, I sing, “It’s like my eyeball’s stuck on replay, replay.” I knew it didn’t make sense, but that doesn’t necessarily affect my thought process. Heck, a Six Hour 9-millimeter doesn’t make sense either. It works for only six hours then you can’t use it any longer? For those who are not familiar with the song, it goes: “It’s like my I-pod’s stuck on replay, replay.” Yes, it makes much more sense.
We found a Chick Fil-A near Tim’s, and the boys had their first experience with its wonderfulness. They soon appreciated why I wanted so desperately to go to one. After our meal, it was close to the end of the school day for Ian. The boys went with Uncle Tim to see all the golf carts lined up in the parking lot of the school. There were hundreds of them. Lots of kids had cars, as well, but most had golf carts. When the boys got home from seeing that, Aunt Susan took us out to watch the parade of golf carts that came down the street once school got out. Most of the kids drove way too fast, but I know I would have done the same thing at that age.
Once Ian got home, the boys all went swimming down at the lake. Before they left, however, Trey asked me which door in the hallway was to the bathroom. He didn’t know because he’d been using the upstairs bathroom since we got there. I told him it was the door that had the sign that said, “The 100” on it. Between guffaws, Tim said, “It says ‘The Loo.’” Now that made more sense. When I first saw the sign I had taken a close look at it to see if it had some parts wiped off that might have made “The 100” make sense.
The boys swam for a very long time. There’s a paddle boat down there, too, so they were out on that quite a bit and were just returning from a jaunt when Susan and I went down to check on them. Ian wanted to take them to the dam to see if they could catch a snapping turtle. They were off again. They’re never bored when they’re with their cousin.
After the kids got back (they did not catch a snapping turtle) Tim treated us to dinner at Ted’s Montana Grill. All the boys drove there in the golf cart and picked Ian’s girlfriend, Cara, up on the way. Tim, Susan, and I took the Suburban and met them there. Dinner was great. The boys all had bison burgers, without even wondering “what kind of sick freak” that would make them. They said that the golf cart had nearly run out of juice on the way there, so Uncle Tim had only Parker ride with him on the way home. Ian had homework to do and the Littles would have added too much weight and, alone, would not have been as helpful as Parker if the cart needed to be pushed.
The Peachtree City police are notorious for giving tickets without mercy. Uncle Tim fell victim to that lack of mercy this night. I’m not saying he was a victim to false allegations – he was guilty as hell. But once in a while, it’s OK for a cop to let someone off with a warning rather than sucking money from people who are just trying to get home. The first part of the problem was, golf carts are not allowed on the road and can cross only in designated areas. The second part of the problem was, Tim didn’t know how to get to the road that allows carts to cross. As he approached the road he knew he shouldn’t cross, he saw a cop farther up the road and tried to wait him out. He finally decided the cop wasn’t watching down the street where he was, and went for the illegal move. Turns out, the cop was watching, very closely. Tim and Parker had barely crossed the street when the lights came on. One bright side, at least they were across the street by the time the cop got to them. After the ticket episode, Tim knew the rest of the way home. Then a third problem reared its ugly head: the juice in the cart was so low that when Tim stepped on the gas, the headlights went out. They managed to make it to a neighbor’s house (both of them pushing the cart up a hill at one point), and the neighbor hooked them up to his own golf cart and towed them home. I guess Tim got his curse while we were still there, rather than waiting until the day after we left.
For corresponding photos, go to: http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2011670027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: Don’t care!!
States covered: 1 – Georgia
After a great breakfast of homemade pancakes and coffee (for me, not the kids) we headed out for the Georgia Aquarium, the largest aquarium in the world, donated to Atlanta by Bernie Marcus, co-founder of Home Depot. It was amazing. Each tank is full of thousands of fish, and most of the tanks are positioned to not only stand in front of the viewer, but to also stand overtop as well, so you get the feeling of being in the tank with the marine life. I was particularly excited to see the whale sharks; and they did not disappoint. We timed our viewing of them perfectly because divers were in the water and we could get a real feel for just how large the whale sharks were when they swam by the divers. The three in the tank were not full grown and they were already 15 to 20 feet long. The rays looked like they were playing in the divers’ bubbles, doing back flips and swimming through the froth. According to the person with the microphone, they were doing the back flips in an effort to catch krill. I think they were playing.
We also petted some small rays and little sharks, both of which felt smooth and spongy. I was surprised that the sharks were so smooth. We saw penguins, beluga whales, seals, otters, seahorses, sea dragons – I think we saw everything the sea has to offer except an octopus. They might have had one there, but we didn’t see it. We were there for a good two hours.
After the aquarium we drove around in downtown Atlanta. Tim was mainly looking for a Chick Fil-A, which I now know how to spell, but we couldn’t find one in the downtown area. We decided to head back to Peachtree City to find one. One thing that amazed me about downtown Atlanta was, where two lanes narrowed down to one lane as they joined with a larger road, people were not expected (or trusted) to merge of their own accord. Two lights were placed at the entrance to the larger road and they alternately flashed red then green. Neither stayed red or green for an extended period of time. One stayed green long enough for one car to pass through, then it turned red, while the other light turned green, as if the people of the area could not comprehend the concept of taking turns. I suppose it’s a good idea here in the east, where people are in such a hurry. Out west, when a sign on the highway said that a lane was to end, the people would move over to the other lane right then and there. In the east, when it says a lane is to end, the drivers hang on to the last possible second before jamming their way into a place not willingly made available between two cars. It runs so much more smoothly out west.
On the drive back to Peachtree, Tim informed me that the gun I shot at John’s was not a Six Hour 9-millimeter, but a Sig Sauer 9-millimeter. Parker said he knew that it was spelled that way. I guess I was the only uninformed participant. That’s not the only thing I’ve messed up on this trip. Whenever the song “Replay” by Iyaz comes on, I sing, “It’s like my eyeball’s stuck on replay, replay.” I knew it didn’t make sense, but that doesn’t necessarily affect my thought process. Heck, a Six Hour 9-millimeter doesn’t make sense either. It works for only six hours then you can’t use it any longer? For those who are not familiar with the song, it goes: “It’s like my I-pod’s stuck on replay, replay.” Yes, it makes much more sense.
We found a Chick Fil-A near Tim’s, and the boys had their first experience with its wonderfulness. They soon appreciated why I wanted so desperately to go to one. After our meal, it was close to the end of the school day for Ian. The boys went with Uncle Tim to see all the golf carts lined up in the parking lot of the school. There were hundreds of them. Lots of kids had cars, as well, but most had golf carts. When the boys got home from seeing that, Aunt Susan took us out to watch the parade of golf carts that came down the street once school got out. Most of the kids drove way too fast, but I know I would have done the same thing at that age.
Once Ian got home, the boys all went swimming down at the lake. Before they left, however, Trey asked me which door in the hallway was to the bathroom. He didn’t know because he’d been using the upstairs bathroom since we got there. I told him it was the door that had the sign that said, “The 100” on it. Between guffaws, Tim said, “It says ‘The Loo.’” Now that made more sense. When I first saw the sign I had taken a close look at it to see if it had some parts wiped off that might have made “The 100” make sense.
The boys swam for a very long time. There’s a paddle boat down there, too, so they were out on that quite a bit and were just returning from a jaunt when Susan and I went down to check on them. Ian wanted to take them to the dam to see if they could catch a snapping turtle. They were off again. They’re never bored when they’re with their cousin.
After the kids got back (they did not catch a snapping turtle) Tim treated us to dinner at Ted’s Montana Grill. All the boys drove there in the golf cart and picked Ian’s girlfriend, Cara, up on the way. Tim, Susan, and I took the Suburban and met them there. Dinner was great. The boys all had bison burgers, without even wondering “what kind of sick freak” that would make them. They said that the golf cart had nearly run out of juice on the way there, so Uncle Tim had only Parker ride with him on the way home. Ian had homework to do and the Littles would have added too much weight and, alone, would not have been as helpful as Parker if the cart needed to be pushed.
The Peachtree City police are notorious for giving tickets without mercy. Uncle Tim fell victim to that lack of mercy this night. I’m not saying he was a victim to false allegations – he was guilty as hell. But once in a while, it’s OK for a cop to let someone off with a warning rather than sucking money from people who are just trying to get home. The first part of the problem was, golf carts are not allowed on the road and can cross only in designated areas. The second part of the problem was, Tim didn’t know how to get to the road that allows carts to cross. As he approached the road he knew he shouldn’t cross, he saw a cop farther up the road and tried to wait him out. He finally decided the cop wasn’t watching down the street where he was, and went for the illegal move. Turns out, the cop was watching, very closely. Tim and Parker had barely crossed the street when the lights came on. One bright side, at least they were across the street by the time the cop got to them. After the ticket episode, Tim knew the rest of the way home. Then a third problem reared its ugly head: the juice in the cart was so low that when Tim stepped on the gas, the headlights went out. They managed to make it to a neighbor’s house (both of them pushing the cart up a hill at one point), and the neighbor hooked them up to his own golf cart and towed them home. I guess Tim got his curse while we were still there, rather than waiting until the day after we left.
For corresponding photos, go to: http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2011670027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Day 41 – Peachtree City, GA, Day 1
Miles traveled: 410
Hours on Road: 6
States covered: 4 – Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia
As we tried to leave Tennessee we found ourselves in the presence of (and behind) the worst driver in the world. It was bad enough that we were trapped on a road that, though it looked like it wanted to be a highway, because some fool plunked stop lights all along it, it was nothing but a four-lane stop and go traffic nightmare, and bad enough that there were thousands of tractor trailers on this road, but to add insult to injury, the aforementioned fool wouldn’t go fast enough to pass the semi that was right next to her and kept swaying back and forth erratically in her lane; she left me unable to do anything but stay far behind them both, cursing under my breath. I could see the driver’s right hand gesturing wildly while holding a cigarette between fingers haunted by three-inch nails, and during one of the swaying episodes the car wandered over into the left-hand turning lane; but I wasn’t positive that it was the driver’s intention to actually turn left, so I kept behind the car’s weaving space until it came to a complete stop, at which point I could see, as I drove past, that the driver’s other hand was busy holding a phone to her ear, which explained not only the right-hand gesturing, but the bad driving, as well.
Leaving her behind, we had the pleasure of driving through yet another violent storm that allowed zero visibility through the front window as well as in the side mirror. I cannot understand how others can plow forward at high speeds without the ability to see the road or any traffic ahead of or behind them. Even though cars had their headlights on, I couldn’t see them until they were almost right on me. Because I slowed down to 45 mph during the heaviest outbursts of rain, I turned on my hazard lights. I soon caught up to a car going only slightly slower than I had been, so I felt comfortable that someone else was being as cautious as I. But that car continued to go slow even when the rain let up a little from time to time, and though I wanted to pick up speed during those times, I was too chicken to pass. After several stints of slowed rain and impatience on my part, I sucked it up, held my breath, waited for the faster cars to go by me, and I pulled over into that elusive (to me anyway) left lane, and I passed, hands gripping the wheel, breath held, shoulders tights, and eyes wide. The rain and my driving continued in this manner for about an hour before finally letting up for good. I am priming myself for a stroke or a heart attack. Seriously!!
I knew that Birmingham was on the course we had set for the day’s drive, which I found exciting since that is where Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote his magnificent “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” in which he states that “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” The problem with our drive through Birmingham began with the breakdown of Lee. Yesterday Parker was able to get him to work with a little careful fussing. Today, Cal rode in the front seat, and his fussing was evidently not as careful as Parker’s because by the time I got out to the van, the issue was no longer that Lee did not believe the cord was supplying a charge, the problem was that the cord would no longer plug into Lee at all. I have no idea what Cal did, but he brought an end to any relationship Lee was going to have with that plug. He still had a little charge left in him, so we were able to use him to get out of Tennessee and then we turned him off to save juice, but by the time we reached Birmingham he had little to no life left in him at all, so we tried to go without him. Luckily, I had printed out all our directions from MapQuest, so we did have a clue as to what to do. Unluckily, the directions from MapQuest sucked. They said to get on a road that was really three roads combined for a while, then veer left on one of the roads until it took you to the highway that continued on to Georgia. We took a left but couldn’t find any clue as to where the next road we were looking for was. We took a right, hoping to find a sign somewhere, but all we ran into was a train stopped across the road. So I did a U-turn. We then took a right, which had us continuing on the road we’d first turned left on. We couldn’t get straight whether we should go north or south on 59, which was also 65, because north on one was south on the other – go figure. So we woke Lee up. He said to do a U-turn; so I did. He then brought us back down the road we had just come from where the train was stopped, (broken-down stopped), so we did another U-turn, figuring we’d head back along the same road we’d originally turned left on and had done that second U-turn on. During the very short drive on that road, we finally figured out that both Lee and the MapQuest directions ultimately wanted us on 65 South, but I was already in the middle lane and couldn’t get over to the right in time to get to the on-ramp for the highway without cutting off a semi, so we pulled to the left, and did our second U-turn in that spot, which was actually our fourth U-turn altogether. So we went back down the road where the train was stopped (we felt comfortably familiar with that road by now), did a third u-turn on that road, making it the fifth U-turn within 10 minutes, pulled right out of that road, turned right onto the highway, and were on our way once again. Like the bats at Carlsbad Caverns, we had to circle counterclockwise around our half-mile long area of departure from Birmingham before we could take flight onto the highway.
This drive was a very long drive. Because we’ve been on the road so long, it felt like a painfully long drive, especially since we’ve come to realize that when the directions say it’s going to take five hours, it’s really going to take seven. We stopped only for lunch at Sonic, and otherwise we were driving forward. We called Tim a couple of times to coordinate our meeting time and make sure we were going in the right direction. We also used a trick my wonderful nephew John had shown me in Austin. Lee could be hooked up to the computer through the cord that hooks the camera up to the computer for downloading photos, so while I drove, I directed my children, step by step in clear, slow English, what to do. Parker had to take the computer out of its bag and hook up its plug, while Cal had to hook the inverter up to the lighter in the van and plug the computer plug into it. Cal then had to find and give to Parker the necessary camera cord, which Parker plugged into the computer and Cal hooked up to Lee. Then it was only a matter of turning the computer on, which Trey took care of. Viola, a charging GPS. The only problem was that Lee wouldn’t provide any directions while he charged this way, but we had 210 miles on the same highway, so we had time to wait.
When we were just outside Atlanta, we woke Lee back up, and he managed to guide us from one road to the next. We panicked a little at each stoplight when Lee would let us know the batteries were getting low. We’d press OK, but he’d keep reminding us, as if there was something we could do about it. Couldn’t he understand? We couldn’t hook him up to the van! Somehow, some way, with his last dying breath, Lee got us to the parking lot where we were to meet Uncle Tim.
Tim took us to Delta’s flight simulator building so see if we could get a little flight time. He was able to find someone there, Paul, who was willing and able to take us for a ride. We entered what exactly simulated a 777 cockpit. I felt like I was on the flight deck of the USS Enterprise, there were so many lit-up buttons. The windows were blank, but when Paul asked us where we were from, and we said Connecticut, he called up the LaGuardia airport as our view out the window. It was amazing how real it looked. They use Google Earth as their mapping system. I took photos of the “view” out the “window.” Then we took off. It’s unbelievable that we were sitting in a room-sized cube because I would have sworn we were taking off: the pressure felt real, the tilt felt real (that probably was, because I’m sure the room tilted back). I even got a little motion sickness as I looked out the window while we were flying. Paul pointed out all the sights we were seeing: Manhattan, Citi Field, some bridges (I took a photo of one bridge). It was an amazing experience. We had to “land” a little early because there had been some planned maintenance of the equipment that Paul had been unaware of, but it was amazing nonetheless. Many thanks go out to Paul and to Uncle Tim.
On the way to Tim’s house, I followed along behind him, and he drove at a reasonable speed, which is not easy for him. He became a pilot to fulfill his need for speed. The boys went swimming in the lake behind Tim’s house with their cousin, Ian, while I pounded a few beers and talked with Tim and Susan. They’d prepared a barbeque pork rib dinner for us that, I have to say, was better than the one the night before (sorry, Cozy Corner). There was more meat on these bones.
After dinner, Tim took the boys out on golf cart, which is one of their favorite things in the world to do. He even bought them ice cream. It was so nice and relaxing just hanging out. When I went to bed, it was in my own private suite in an apartment over the garage. I didn’t do much with the blog because it was more fun to talk with family members I haven’t seen in a while, that’s why this is being posted several days after the fact. But I sure slept well, and I woke up when I felt like it, not when a boy decided I should wake up.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2006591027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 6
States covered: 4 – Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia
As we tried to leave Tennessee we found ourselves in the presence of (and behind) the worst driver in the world. It was bad enough that we were trapped on a road that, though it looked like it wanted to be a highway, because some fool plunked stop lights all along it, it was nothing but a four-lane stop and go traffic nightmare, and bad enough that there were thousands of tractor trailers on this road, but to add insult to injury, the aforementioned fool wouldn’t go fast enough to pass the semi that was right next to her and kept swaying back and forth erratically in her lane; she left me unable to do anything but stay far behind them both, cursing under my breath. I could see the driver’s right hand gesturing wildly while holding a cigarette between fingers haunted by three-inch nails, and during one of the swaying episodes the car wandered over into the left-hand turning lane; but I wasn’t positive that it was the driver’s intention to actually turn left, so I kept behind the car’s weaving space until it came to a complete stop, at which point I could see, as I drove past, that the driver’s other hand was busy holding a phone to her ear, which explained not only the right-hand gesturing, but the bad driving, as well.
Leaving her behind, we had the pleasure of driving through yet another violent storm that allowed zero visibility through the front window as well as in the side mirror. I cannot understand how others can plow forward at high speeds without the ability to see the road or any traffic ahead of or behind them. Even though cars had their headlights on, I couldn’t see them until they were almost right on me. Because I slowed down to 45 mph during the heaviest outbursts of rain, I turned on my hazard lights. I soon caught up to a car going only slightly slower than I had been, so I felt comfortable that someone else was being as cautious as I. But that car continued to go slow even when the rain let up a little from time to time, and though I wanted to pick up speed during those times, I was too chicken to pass. After several stints of slowed rain and impatience on my part, I sucked it up, held my breath, waited for the faster cars to go by me, and I pulled over into that elusive (to me anyway) left lane, and I passed, hands gripping the wheel, breath held, shoulders tights, and eyes wide. The rain and my driving continued in this manner for about an hour before finally letting up for good. I am priming myself for a stroke or a heart attack. Seriously!!
I knew that Birmingham was on the course we had set for the day’s drive, which I found exciting since that is where Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote his magnificent “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” in which he states that “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” The problem with our drive through Birmingham began with the breakdown of Lee. Yesterday Parker was able to get him to work with a little careful fussing. Today, Cal rode in the front seat, and his fussing was evidently not as careful as Parker’s because by the time I got out to the van, the issue was no longer that Lee did not believe the cord was supplying a charge, the problem was that the cord would no longer plug into Lee at all. I have no idea what Cal did, but he brought an end to any relationship Lee was going to have with that plug. He still had a little charge left in him, so we were able to use him to get out of Tennessee and then we turned him off to save juice, but by the time we reached Birmingham he had little to no life left in him at all, so we tried to go without him. Luckily, I had printed out all our directions from MapQuest, so we did have a clue as to what to do. Unluckily, the directions from MapQuest sucked. They said to get on a road that was really three roads combined for a while, then veer left on one of the roads until it took you to the highway that continued on to Georgia. We took a left but couldn’t find any clue as to where the next road we were looking for was. We took a right, hoping to find a sign somewhere, but all we ran into was a train stopped across the road. So I did a U-turn. We then took a right, which had us continuing on the road we’d first turned left on. We couldn’t get straight whether we should go north or south on 59, which was also 65, because north on one was south on the other – go figure. So we woke Lee up. He said to do a U-turn; so I did. He then brought us back down the road we had just come from where the train was stopped, (broken-down stopped), so we did another U-turn, figuring we’d head back along the same road we’d originally turned left on and had done that second U-turn on. During the very short drive on that road, we finally figured out that both Lee and the MapQuest directions ultimately wanted us on 65 South, but I was already in the middle lane and couldn’t get over to the right in time to get to the on-ramp for the highway without cutting off a semi, so we pulled to the left, and did our second U-turn in that spot, which was actually our fourth U-turn altogether. So we went back down the road where the train was stopped (we felt comfortably familiar with that road by now), did a third u-turn on that road, making it the fifth U-turn within 10 minutes, pulled right out of that road, turned right onto the highway, and were on our way once again. Like the bats at Carlsbad Caverns, we had to circle counterclockwise around our half-mile long area of departure from Birmingham before we could take flight onto the highway.
This drive was a very long drive. Because we’ve been on the road so long, it felt like a painfully long drive, especially since we’ve come to realize that when the directions say it’s going to take five hours, it’s really going to take seven. We stopped only for lunch at Sonic, and otherwise we were driving forward. We called Tim a couple of times to coordinate our meeting time and make sure we were going in the right direction. We also used a trick my wonderful nephew John had shown me in Austin. Lee could be hooked up to the computer through the cord that hooks the camera up to the computer for downloading photos, so while I drove, I directed my children, step by step in clear, slow English, what to do. Parker had to take the computer out of its bag and hook up its plug, while Cal had to hook the inverter up to the lighter in the van and plug the computer plug into it. Cal then had to find and give to Parker the necessary camera cord, which Parker plugged into the computer and Cal hooked up to Lee. Then it was only a matter of turning the computer on, which Trey took care of. Viola, a charging GPS. The only problem was that Lee wouldn’t provide any directions while he charged this way, but we had 210 miles on the same highway, so we had time to wait.
When we were just outside Atlanta, we woke Lee back up, and he managed to guide us from one road to the next. We panicked a little at each stoplight when Lee would let us know the batteries were getting low. We’d press OK, but he’d keep reminding us, as if there was something we could do about it. Couldn’t he understand? We couldn’t hook him up to the van! Somehow, some way, with his last dying breath, Lee got us to the parking lot where we were to meet Uncle Tim.
Tim took us to Delta’s flight simulator building so see if we could get a little flight time. He was able to find someone there, Paul, who was willing and able to take us for a ride. We entered what exactly simulated a 777 cockpit. I felt like I was on the flight deck of the USS Enterprise, there were so many lit-up buttons. The windows were blank, but when Paul asked us where we were from, and we said Connecticut, he called up the LaGuardia airport as our view out the window. It was amazing how real it looked. They use Google Earth as their mapping system. I took photos of the “view” out the “window.” Then we took off. It’s unbelievable that we were sitting in a room-sized cube because I would have sworn we were taking off: the pressure felt real, the tilt felt real (that probably was, because I’m sure the room tilted back). I even got a little motion sickness as I looked out the window while we were flying. Paul pointed out all the sights we were seeing: Manhattan, Citi Field, some bridges (I took a photo of one bridge). It was an amazing experience. We had to “land” a little early because there had been some planned maintenance of the equipment that Paul had been unaware of, but it was amazing nonetheless. Many thanks go out to Paul and to Uncle Tim.
On the way to Tim’s house, I followed along behind him, and he drove at a reasonable speed, which is not easy for him. He became a pilot to fulfill his need for speed. The boys went swimming in the lake behind Tim’s house with their cousin, Ian, while I pounded a few beers and talked with Tim and Susan. They’d prepared a barbeque pork rib dinner for us that, I have to say, was better than the one the night before (sorry, Cozy Corner). There was more meat on these bones.
After dinner, Tim took the boys out on golf cart, which is one of their favorite things in the world to do. He even bought them ice cream. It was so nice and relaxing just hanging out. When I went to bed, it was in my own private suite in an apartment over the garage. I didn’t do much with the blog because it was more fun to talk with family members I haven’t seen in a while, that’s why this is being posted several days after the fact. But I sure slept well, and I woke up when I felt like it, not when a boy decided I should wake up.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=2006591027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Day 40 – Memphis, TN
Miles traveled: 290 (some of this was within Memphis when we went to get dinner)
Hours on Road: 4 (doesn’t include driving around Memphis)
States covered: 2 – Arkansas, Tennessee
We left our Inn around 10:30 after breakfast and some TV watching. The boys are always hesitant to leave because they know we’ll be in the van for several hours. Parker was able to get Lee to work but he made me promise I wouldn’t turn the van off for fear Lee wouldn’t start up again. The problem is with Lee’s connection to the car battery. He insists he isn’t getting any juice, when we know darn well he is. After Parker fiddled with the connection for a while, even Lee had to admit he was connected. So, while the gas tank showed less and less gas within it, Parker kept yelling at me to KEEP GOING!
On our way out of wherever the hell we were, we saw three more dead armadillos along the road. What is with those dumb creatures? Along the road, I got my mojo back so well that I passed a helicopter. Granted, it was on a flatbed and looked like it may have crashed at some point, but I still passed the truck it was on. Speed limit 70 – Annette driving 70. Yes!!
Somewhere along the drive, we passed an area that was obviously pushing some severe form of religion. A billboard read, “Use the rod to save your child’s life.” Then it went on with something about “You must be reborn of the flesh…” and I was passed it before the rest of the sign registered in my brain. I think it’s because my brain had to reread the first part that was encouraging child abuse. Hey, I know some people spank their kids, but do we need billboards encouraging it?
My faith in the driving ability of the truckers around me was not redeemed when I realized that the several burn marks I saw in the grass along the median were the exact size of a tipped-over semi. Yes, at least five burn marks at different spots announcing to the world that a truck had not only turned over there, but it had caught on fire and burned quite fiercely, as well. From then on, when I decided to pass a truck, I went with all the gusto Jose could muster. Speed limit 70 – Annette 85.
My boys have decided to honor me with the name “Pilot,” for the rest of our journey. I thought, at first, it was just their derivative of my choice of Superhero names, Driver. Did I discuss that in an earlier blog? That Parker is Indestructible, Cal is Chameleon, Trey is Flame, and I’m Driver? I thought that’s what they were basing Pilot on. Only, they weren’t. Evidently, I am Pilot because I frequently drop the F-bomb. What rotten kids. Sure, I may slip every now and then, but who wouldn’t on an 8,000 mile trip around the country? My new name came as a result of our driving on a very busy road in Memphis where I wanted to turn left but had to wait for a green arrow and some little punk tried to sneak in front of me. It was just a natural reflex to say something F-related. By the way, the punk never did get in front of me.
The driving on the aforementioned busy street was to get to a liquor store where I bought myself some gin. Yes, gin. And I’m drinking it as I write. But before that, we headed to Hard Rock Café to get my pal, Jim, a T-shirt, as we had done in Dallas. The cool thing was that it was located on Beale Street, center of the Blues. The block that Hard Rock Café is on did not allow cars so, being the good mother I am, I told Parker to hop out and walk along the block by himself to buy the T-shirt, and I’d circle the block and pick him up where I’d dropped him off. Memphis is only the 13th most dangerous city in America. Hell, Hartford is 7th! He was fine. He said some guy walked along with him (wasn’t that nice?). He couldn’t understand a word the guy said, but he kept going and found his way safely to his destination. I was able to stay where I was when I dropped him off. I was illegally parked, but since I remained in the car, I figured that if a cop came along, I’d just move then. Parker came back to me unscathed, as I knew he would, shirt in hand.
After we got the T-shirt, we headed to what two websites had dubbed the best barbeque ribs in Memphis -- Cozy Corner. It’s a converted gas station, so they admit it ain’t pretty, but the ribs were unbelievable. The smoker (a machine, not a person) was right behind the counter where you order, and the guy who took our order was as nice as could be, not to mention jacked, as the boys noticed. They have great admiration for those who work out enough to be jacked. He asked me all about my trip, and we chatted about St. Louis baseball and places you have to see before you die.
We got our dinner as takeout and stopped to get my booze on the way home. The Littles and I had the ribs while Parker got a beef BBQ sandwich. He said it wasn’t as good as Rudy’s, but according to Brian, Texas is the beef BBQ state and Tennessee is the pork BBQ state. Our ribs were fantastic.
After dinner the Littles went swimming. I was going to work on my computer while they swam but the black cloud that is eternally over our heads kept spitting water at me, so I put the computer away and tried to call some of you who read my blog. Where were you all? Only Trisha was home!!! Not that I don’t love talking to my dear sister, but she had called during dinner and Parker had kindly held the phone to my ear while we spoke (he had the only clean hands – he’d finished eating and the rest of us were covered with BBQ sauce).
Now we’re watching TV, par-usual. I’m figuring not much will happen tonight, except going to the pool again, so I’m posting this blog. If something happens, you’ll find out in tomorrow’s post.
Good night to all.
For (the four) corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1998534027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
One’s of the helicopter we passed, one is Cozy Corner, and two are of a cigarette some guy balanced on his car before entering the same liquor store I went into. Are we losing our photo touch?
Hours on Road: 4 (doesn’t include driving around Memphis)
States covered: 2 – Arkansas, Tennessee
We left our Inn around 10:30 after breakfast and some TV watching. The boys are always hesitant to leave because they know we’ll be in the van for several hours. Parker was able to get Lee to work but he made me promise I wouldn’t turn the van off for fear Lee wouldn’t start up again. The problem is with Lee’s connection to the car battery. He insists he isn’t getting any juice, when we know darn well he is. After Parker fiddled with the connection for a while, even Lee had to admit he was connected. So, while the gas tank showed less and less gas within it, Parker kept yelling at me to KEEP GOING!
On our way out of wherever the hell we were, we saw three more dead armadillos along the road. What is with those dumb creatures? Along the road, I got my mojo back so well that I passed a helicopter. Granted, it was on a flatbed and looked like it may have crashed at some point, but I still passed the truck it was on. Speed limit 70 – Annette driving 70. Yes!!
Somewhere along the drive, we passed an area that was obviously pushing some severe form of religion. A billboard read, “Use the rod to save your child’s life.” Then it went on with something about “You must be reborn of the flesh…” and I was passed it before the rest of the sign registered in my brain. I think it’s because my brain had to reread the first part that was encouraging child abuse. Hey, I know some people spank their kids, but do we need billboards encouraging it?
My faith in the driving ability of the truckers around me was not redeemed when I realized that the several burn marks I saw in the grass along the median were the exact size of a tipped-over semi. Yes, at least five burn marks at different spots announcing to the world that a truck had not only turned over there, but it had caught on fire and burned quite fiercely, as well. From then on, when I decided to pass a truck, I went with all the gusto Jose could muster. Speed limit 70 – Annette 85.
My boys have decided to honor me with the name “Pilot,” for the rest of our journey. I thought, at first, it was just their derivative of my choice of Superhero names, Driver. Did I discuss that in an earlier blog? That Parker is Indestructible, Cal is Chameleon, Trey is Flame, and I’m Driver? I thought that’s what they were basing Pilot on. Only, they weren’t. Evidently, I am Pilot because I frequently drop the F-bomb. What rotten kids. Sure, I may slip every now and then, but who wouldn’t on an 8,000 mile trip around the country? My new name came as a result of our driving on a very busy road in Memphis where I wanted to turn left but had to wait for a green arrow and some little punk tried to sneak in front of me. It was just a natural reflex to say something F-related. By the way, the punk never did get in front of me.
The driving on the aforementioned busy street was to get to a liquor store where I bought myself some gin. Yes, gin. And I’m drinking it as I write. But before that, we headed to Hard Rock Café to get my pal, Jim, a T-shirt, as we had done in Dallas. The cool thing was that it was located on Beale Street, center of the Blues. The block that Hard Rock Café is on did not allow cars so, being the good mother I am, I told Parker to hop out and walk along the block by himself to buy the T-shirt, and I’d circle the block and pick him up where I’d dropped him off. Memphis is only the 13th most dangerous city in America. Hell, Hartford is 7th! He was fine. He said some guy walked along with him (wasn’t that nice?). He couldn’t understand a word the guy said, but he kept going and found his way safely to his destination. I was able to stay where I was when I dropped him off. I was illegally parked, but since I remained in the car, I figured that if a cop came along, I’d just move then. Parker came back to me unscathed, as I knew he would, shirt in hand.
After we got the T-shirt, we headed to what two websites had dubbed the best barbeque ribs in Memphis -- Cozy Corner. It’s a converted gas station, so they admit it ain’t pretty, but the ribs were unbelievable. The smoker (a machine, not a person) was right behind the counter where you order, and the guy who took our order was as nice as could be, not to mention jacked, as the boys noticed. They have great admiration for those who work out enough to be jacked. He asked me all about my trip, and we chatted about St. Louis baseball and places you have to see before you die.
We got our dinner as takeout and stopped to get my booze on the way home. The Littles and I had the ribs while Parker got a beef BBQ sandwich. He said it wasn’t as good as Rudy’s, but according to Brian, Texas is the beef BBQ state and Tennessee is the pork BBQ state. Our ribs were fantastic.
After dinner the Littles went swimming. I was going to work on my computer while they swam but the black cloud that is eternally over our heads kept spitting water at me, so I put the computer away and tried to call some of you who read my blog. Where were you all? Only Trisha was home!!! Not that I don’t love talking to my dear sister, but she had called during dinner and Parker had kindly held the phone to my ear while we spoke (he had the only clean hands – he’d finished eating and the rest of us were covered with BBQ sauce).
Now we’re watching TV, par-usual. I’m figuring not much will happen tonight, except going to the pool again, so I’m posting this blog. If something happens, you’ll find out in tomorrow’s post.
Good night to all.
For (the four) corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1998534027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
One’s of the helicopter we passed, one is Cozy Corner, and two are of a cigarette some guy balanced on his car before entering the same liquor store I went into. Are we losing our photo touch?
Day 39 – Crater of Diamonds State Park
Miles traveled: 10
Hours on Road: .25
States covered: 1 – Arkansas
I’d like to say I called Jeff and told him to quit his job and join us for the rest of our vacation. I’d like to say the vacation is going to be extended to….whenever we feel like coming back. In other words, I’d like to say we found a giant diamond that would allow us to take it easy for the rest of our lives. I’d even be content to say we found a little something that would make a nice keepsake. All I actually have to say is, we’re exhausted! We got to Crater of Diamonds around 9:30 this morning, with Mom determined to stay until closing time (5:00 p.m.), and we wound up leaving at 3:30, empty handed.
Searching for diamonds around here is done either with dry sifting or wet sifting. With dry sifting, you sit out in the middle of the field filling your tray with the clay you’re surrounded by, and sift it through a screen that has very small holes. With wet sifting, you fill a tray that has a screen with pretty large holes with the clay and place a tray with a screen with smaller holes beneath it, and you immerse both trays in water. The mud that is created runs through both screens while the large rocks stay in the top screen and the smaller rocks are caught by the lower screen. Then you dump the loads of rocks on a table and search through them. Either way you do it, it’s tedious work. We did it for six and half hours. Or I should say, I did it for six and half hours. Parker worked maybe a total of five of those hours, and Cal and Trey put so much effort into NOT doing the work, I think they worked harder than Parker and I did. They truly couldn’t have been less helpful. In their defense, the temperature ranged between 95 and 100 degrees, which is why we wound up doing only the wet sifting. The tubs of water were located underneath roofs, and that was enough protection from the sun to make a very big difference in one’s personal heat index.
We collected a few crystals and a piece of glass and some interesting-looking rocks, but we found nothing of value. We’re exhausted, and we have nothing to show for it, except a big cut on Parker’s toe that resulted from his dropping the big shovel on his foot, which he managed to do within five minutes of our arrival.
After giving up on finding that retirement diamond, we went to the only store we could find to get some snacks and soft drinks. We’d had only breakfast, so we were famished. I asked a clerk where I could buy some beer or liquor of any kind. She said I’d have to drive to Texarkana or Hot Springs for that, both of which were, at minimum, 40 miles away. That could mean only one thing: I’d planted myself squarely in a dry county…again. Just like at Mammoth Cave, where all I wanted was something to wind down with and take the edge off. What the hell is wrong with these people? Don’t they want a little something at the end of a long hot day, which appears to be the only kind of day you can have around here? Parker couldn’t even believe it: “The most redneck town in the most redneck state in the country and they don’t have beer?” I told him that may be precisely why they don’t have it.
So we went to Sonic again, ate dinner, and laid in bed watching TV; our new favorite show is “Pawn Stars.” Parker is walking around like Fred Sanford. I’m waiting for him to call out to “Elizabeth.” My feet are killing me; cramps keep racing through the bones at the tops of my feet. I was standing at that tub for six hours! The Littles are too tired to go swimming, which makes me happy because I’m too tired to walk to the pool.
Sleep will come easily tonight.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1995391027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: .25
States covered: 1 – Arkansas
I’d like to say I called Jeff and told him to quit his job and join us for the rest of our vacation. I’d like to say the vacation is going to be extended to….whenever we feel like coming back. In other words, I’d like to say we found a giant diamond that would allow us to take it easy for the rest of our lives. I’d even be content to say we found a little something that would make a nice keepsake. All I actually have to say is, we’re exhausted! We got to Crater of Diamonds around 9:30 this morning, with Mom determined to stay until closing time (5:00 p.m.), and we wound up leaving at 3:30, empty handed.
Searching for diamonds around here is done either with dry sifting or wet sifting. With dry sifting, you sit out in the middle of the field filling your tray with the clay you’re surrounded by, and sift it through a screen that has very small holes. With wet sifting, you fill a tray that has a screen with pretty large holes with the clay and place a tray with a screen with smaller holes beneath it, and you immerse both trays in water. The mud that is created runs through both screens while the large rocks stay in the top screen and the smaller rocks are caught by the lower screen. Then you dump the loads of rocks on a table and search through them. Either way you do it, it’s tedious work. We did it for six and half hours. Or I should say, I did it for six and half hours. Parker worked maybe a total of five of those hours, and Cal and Trey put so much effort into NOT doing the work, I think they worked harder than Parker and I did. They truly couldn’t have been less helpful. In their defense, the temperature ranged between 95 and 100 degrees, which is why we wound up doing only the wet sifting. The tubs of water were located underneath roofs, and that was enough protection from the sun to make a very big difference in one’s personal heat index.
We collected a few crystals and a piece of glass and some interesting-looking rocks, but we found nothing of value. We’re exhausted, and we have nothing to show for it, except a big cut on Parker’s toe that resulted from his dropping the big shovel on his foot, which he managed to do within five minutes of our arrival.
After giving up on finding that retirement diamond, we went to the only store we could find to get some snacks and soft drinks. We’d had only breakfast, so we were famished. I asked a clerk where I could buy some beer or liquor of any kind. She said I’d have to drive to Texarkana or Hot Springs for that, both of which were, at minimum, 40 miles away. That could mean only one thing: I’d planted myself squarely in a dry county…again. Just like at Mammoth Cave, where all I wanted was something to wind down with and take the edge off. What the hell is wrong with these people? Don’t they want a little something at the end of a long hot day, which appears to be the only kind of day you can have around here? Parker couldn’t even believe it: “The most redneck town in the most redneck state in the country and they don’t have beer?” I told him that may be precisely why they don’t have it.
So we went to Sonic again, ate dinner, and laid in bed watching TV; our new favorite show is “Pawn Stars.” Parker is walking around like Fred Sanford. I’m waiting for him to call out to “Elizabeth.” My feet are killing me; cramps keep racing through the bones at the tops of my feet. I was standing at that tub for six hours! The Littles are too tired to go swimming, which makes me happy because I’m too tired to walk to the pool.
Sleep will come easily tonight.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1995391027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Day 38 – Murfreesboro, AR
Miles traveled: 280
Hours on Road: 7
States covered: 2 –Texas, Arkansas
Chrissy left long before any of us got up, by 8:00 a.m., I believe. We didn’t get up until 9:30, and we got up then only because we wanted the free breakfast downstairs that was served until 10. Then we hung around in our hotel room until we were forcibly removed at checkout time. Cal and Trey spent the morning wrestling. At one point, Trey went flying off the bed, totally prone, and just like the road runner, once he reached the end of the bed, instead of continuing forward, he dropped straight down. The beds were pretty high, too, so he had a good three-foot fall.
It has become Parker and Cal’s favorite pastime to get Trey to freak out. Granted, it isn’t that hard to do, but they torment him until he gets this angry deep voice in which he snarls, “I will kill you.” I suppose the fact that I laugh at all this may one day come back to bite me in the ass.
We spent three hours getting out of Texas, and once we reached Arkansas, it appeared to be a state that cannot make up its mind. On one road, the speed limit said 55 mph, then within 20 feet it said 45 mph, then within 10 feet more it indicated a corner approaching and the speed limit of 30 mph. If only we’d stopped I bet we could have gotten all three signs in one photo.
We found it strange that in towns that appeared to offer nothing, there were some immense houses. Parker said one day he’d have a huge house. This was during one of Trey’s rages, so he went off on how Parker will never have a big house because they require big money and he’ll never be successful. So Parker said Trey would never be invited to his big house. At this point Cal piped in that he’ll be the guard at Parker’s house. I had to call him on that, asking him why he didn’t strive to have his own big house. Why did he just aspire to guard Parker’s. His response went something like, he would guard Parker’s house against Trey; that is what he’d be the guard for.
Several times during this drive, and on several earlier drives, Trey accused Parker of giving him the finger. Parker claimed he gave him the ring finger, to which Trey replied that he “saw the wart” so it had to be the middle finger. At one point Trey even grabbed hold of the middle finger, citing the fact that, if he was able to catch that finger, that must have been the one that was sticking up. This is how most of the car ride has gone.
Aunt Chrissy had guaranteed that at some point we would see an armadillo. We finally did in Arkansas. It was dead. I was the only one to see it as we passed, so the boys made me turn around so they could see it and Parker could photograph it. As it turned out, we saw six more dead armadillos along the road. They don’t appear to be very road savvy. That, or people around here aim for them.
We went to Crater of Diamonds State Park before we headed to our campsite. I had been told that the campgrounds at the state park were closed due to renovations, but I wanted to make sure before we set up at the other site. We got there around 4 p.m. and found out that they close at 5 and that the campground was, indeed, not open. I saw a sign leading out to the diamond fields that said they’re open 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., so I was confused about the information I was given inside, but I didn’t feel like diamond hunting at the moment, so I didn’t question it. Besides, Cal was not feeling well and had remained in the van while Parker, Trey, and I went to view a video on how to search for diamonds. We plan to head there early tomorrow and search all day, barring any deaths from overheating. Signs around the mine indicate that temperatures out in the field can reach 110 degrees Fahrenheit. I believe it. It’s stinking hot here.
After we left the park, we went to look for our campsite, which was located on Greeson Lake, which is a result of the Narrows Dam. We found the dam. We found Parker Creek. We found the campsite for Parker Creek. We did not find Narrows Campground. We drove about 10 miles along the road to the left of the dam and decided to turn around when the road turned to dirt. On our ride back along the way we’d come we saw some people pulled over in what appeared to be a picnic area. I stopped and asked if they knew where the Narrows Campground was. The woman turned toward us and, with a very heavy drawl and very few solid white teeth, said she did not know. Meanwhile, the guy with her called over to his friend who was about 30 feet away and asked him if he knew. I could see the guy using hand motions to indicate a turn here and a turn there, and I could hear that he was speaking, though I couldn’t hear a word he said. He went on for nearly a minute, and when he was done, I asked our black-toothed friend what he said. Again in a very heavy drawl, she answered, “He said go back down the hill and it should be right there.” It was like watching a translated Japanese movie where the people’s mouths go on and on in Japanese, but all the American translator says is, “The monster wiped out the village.”
We finally found the campground, though no sign ever indicated that we’d find it down the road we took. We just guessed. What we found was a nearly empty campground with no site reserved for us. We drove around it twice and never saw a site that had the same number we’d been given in our reservation confirmation. I stopped a man who was walking around outside his RV, and he confirmed we were in the right place, but he was certain it was a first-come-first-served campground, so he couldn’t understand how we’d reserved a site. He was sympathetic to our plight, but not helpful in the least. We were rapidly losing our taste for camping: too much driving around, the inability to find out where we should set up the tent, and the exceedingly high temperatures were major turn offs. The night before in Dallas, it finally cooled off to 96 degrees by 10 p.m. This day wasn’t looking to be any cooler, and you just can’t sleep in heat like that.
We decided we’d head to town where we hoped we could get some phone service to call Faja and have him look up a place for us to stay. We had passed the Queen of Diamonds Inn on our way to the Narrows Dam, but Parker insisted that the place looked too much like a dive. As we drove back into town, Cal said he was feeling really crappy, like he might throw up. I told Trey to give him a bag, but he said he already had one. Parker kept telling him to open the window and throw up out that. I kept asking if he was REALLY going to throw up, or if he just felt like he was. He wouldn’t answer me, but then Parker started yelling, “He’s barfing, he’s barfing. Open the window.” I pulled over to the side of the road and reached back trying to open his door, but it wouldn’t open. I was yelling, “Get out of the car.” Parker was yelling, “Open the window.” Trey was yelling, “It’s leaking through your bag.” All this yelling, and Cal kept puking, and the vomit kept leaking out the bag he was using. I finally got out of the van and opened his door, and he kept puking. I could see the vomit all over the floor and down into the rail along which the door moves back and forth. He finally got out and continued to vomit on the side of the road. I yelled that he should have gotten out. Parker lectured that he should have opened the window. Trey just stood there holding the empty bag he tried to give Cal. Poor Cal kept puking and very nearly started crying with all the yelling going on. Hearing him so upset worked to shut me up. I found my sympathetic mother voice and told him it was OK. No, I didn’t say that. I should have. But what I said, in my sympathetic mother voice, was that he should have opened the door and gotten out; that he should have told me he really was going to vomit and that I should pull over to the side of the road. I said it in a nice voice, but I continued to lecture. The poor boy. The one bright spot was that once he finished vomiting, he said he felt much better.
A little farther down the road we got cell service, so I called Jeff and told him our plight. I asked him to check out the Queen of Diamonds Inn. He said would, but he also needed to attend to his spaghetti, so he’d call me right back. We continued on the road to the Inn, noticing a Sonic along the way, and by the time we reached the parking lot, Jeff called us back and said the Inn wasn’t too expensive and it had some very good reviews. That did it for me. It even had a pool. We were given room 44, and after checking it out and deciding we’d made a great decision (Parker had been thinking of the hotel across the street when he said it was a dive), we went to Sonic for dinner. Trey has been begging to go to Sonic this whole trip, so I killed two birds with one stone: dinner for the family and shutting Trey up. I’m pretty amazed that a fast-food joint was even located in this town; it’s not a thriving metropolis.
I took the Littles swimming after dinner but we came inside when lightning started flashing. We’re all inside right now writing. The boys were supposed to have kept journals about our trip. Today is August 15, and Trey hadn’t written in his since August 5. I told him he’s going to look at his journal as an adult and think, “What a slacker I was.”
Trey was sitting at the little table in the room to do his writing, and he started to feel cold from the air conditioning, so he decided to turn it off, or turn the heat on, or something. Whatever he did, the dust on the wall unit began to burn, so Cal went over to try to remedy the situation. Only, whatever was burning had created enough smoke that the smoke alarm began to sound. This caused Trey to run across the room to get as far away from the area of trouble as possible and Cal to stand perfectly still looking nervous, while Parker said, “Great, now the firemen are going to come.” Cal finally turned the unit off altogether and I opened the door and fanned the alarm, and shortly the alarm stopped.
Now Trey is so offended that I wrote about this incident, he’s writing in his journal that every five seconds, “Mom says the F word. She’s so immature.”
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1980227027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 7
States covered: 2 –Texas, Arkansas
Chrissy left long before any of us got up, by 8:00 a.m., I believe. We didn’t get up until 9:30, and we got up then only because we wanted the free breakfast downstairs that was served until 10. Then we hung around in our hotel room until we were forcibly removed at checkout time. Cal and Trey spent the morning wrestling. At one point, Trey went flying off the bed, totally prone, and just like the road runner, once he reached the end of the bed, instead of continuing forward, he dropped straight down. The beds were pretty high, too, so he had a good three-foot fall.
It has become Parker and Cal’s favorite pastime to get Trey to freak out. Granted, it isn’t that hard to do, but they torment him until he gets this angry deep voice in which he snarls, “I will kill you.” I suppose the fact that I laugh at all this may one day come back to bite me in the ass.
We spent three hours getting out of Texas, and once we reached Arkansas, it appeared to be a state that cannot make up its mind. On one road, the speed limit said 55 mph, then within 20 feet it said 45 mph, then within 10 feet more it indicated a corner approaching and the speed limit of 30 mph. If only we’d stopped I bet we could have gotten all three signs in one photo.
We found it strange that in towns that appeared to offer nothing, there were some immense houses. Parker said one day he’d have a huge house. This was during one of Trey’s rages, so he went off on how Parker will never have a big house because they require big money and he’ll never be successful. So Parker said Trey would never be invited to his big house. At this point Cal piped in that he’ll be the guard at Parker’s house. I had to call him on that, asking him why he didn’t strive to have his own big house. Why did he just aspire to guard Parker’s. His response went something like, he would guard Parker’s house against Trey; that is what he’d be the guard for.
Several times during this drive, and on several earlier drives, Trey accused Parker of giving him the finger. Parker claimed he gave him the ring finger, to which Trey replied that he “saw the wart” so it had to be the middle finger. At one point Trey even grabbed hold of the middle finger, citing the fact that, if he was able to catch that finger, that must have been the one that was sticking up. This is how most of the car ride has gone.
Aunt Chrissy had guaranteed that at some point we would see an armadillo. We finally did in Arkansas. It was dead. I was the only one to see it as we passed, so the boys made me turn around so they could see it and Parker could photograph it. As it turned out, we saw six more dead armadillos along the road. They don’t appear to be very road savvy. That, or people around here aim for them.
We went to Crater of Diamonds State Park before we headed to our campsite. I had been told that the campgrounds at the state park were closed due to renovations, but I wanted to make sure before we set up at the other site. We got there around 4 p.m. and found out that they close at 5 and that the campground was, indeed, not open. I saw a sign leading out to the diamond fields that said they’re open 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., so I was confused about the information I was given inside, but I didn’t feel like diamond hunting at the moment, so I didn’t question it. Besides, Cal was not feeling well and had remained in the van while Parker, Trey, and I went to view a video on how to search for diamonds. We plan to head there early tomorrow and search all day, barring any deaths from overheating. Signs around the mine indicate that temperatures out in the field can reach 110 degrees Fahrenheit. I believe it. It’s stinking hot here.
After we left the park, we went to look for our campsite, which was located on Greeson Lake, which is a result of the Narrows Dam. We found the dam. We found Parker Creek. We found the campsite for Parker Creek. We did not find Narrows Campground. We drove about 10 miles along the road to the left of the dam and decided to turn around when the road turned to dirt. On our ride back along the way we’d come we saw some people pulled over in what appeared to be a picnic area. I stopped and asked if they knew where the Narrows Campground was. The woman turned toward us and, with a very heavy drawl and very few solid white teeth, said she did not know. Meanwhile, the guy with her called over to his friend who was about 30 feet away and asked him if he knew. I could see the guy using hand motions to indicate a turn here and a turn there, and I could hear that he was speaking, though I couldn’t hear a word he said. He went on for nearly a minute, and when he was done, I asked our black-toothed friend what he said. Again in a very heavy drawl, she answered, “He said go back down the hill and it should be right there.” It was like watching a translated Japanese movie where the people’s mouths go on and on in Japanese, but all the American translator says is, “The monster wiped out the village.”
We finally found the campground, though no sign ever indicated that we’d find it down the road we took. We just guessed. What we found was a nearly empty campground with no site reserved for us. We drove around it twice and never saw a site that had the same number we’d been given in our reservation confirmation. I stopped a man who was walking around outside his RV, and he confirmed we were in the right place, but he was certain it was a first-come-first-served campground, so he couldn’t understand how we’d reserved a site. He was sympathetic to our plight, but not helpful in the least. We were rapidly losing our taste for camping: too much driving around, the inability to find out where we should set up the tent, and the exceedingly high temperatures were major turn offs. The night before in Dallas, it finally cooled off to 96 degrees by 10 p.m. This day wasn’t looking to be any cooler, and you just can’t sleep in heat like that.
We decided we’d head to town where we hoped we could get some phone service to call Faja and have him look up a place for us to stay. We had passed the Queen of Diamonds Inn on our way to the Narrows Dam, but Parker insisted that the place looked too much like a dive. As we drove back into town, Cal said he was feeling really crappy, like he might throw up. I told Trey to give him a bag, but he said he already had one. Parker kept telling him to open the window and throw up out that. I kept asking if he was REALLY going to throw up, or if he just felt like he was. He wouldn’t answer me, but then Parker started yelling, “He’s barfing, he’s barfing. Open the window.” I pulled over to the side of the road and reached back trying to open his door, but it wouldn’t open. I was yelling, “Get out of the car.” Parker was yelling, “Open the window.” Trey was yelling, “It’s leaking through your bag.” All this yelling, and Cal kept puking, and the vomit kept leaking out the bag he was using. I finally got out of the van and opened his door, and he kept puking. I could see the vomit all over the floor and down into the rail along which the door moves back and forth. He finally got out and continued to vomit on the side of the road. I yelled that he should have gotten out. Parker lectured that he should have opened the window. Trey just stood there holding the empty bag he tried to give Cal. Poor Cal kept puking and very nearly started crying with all the yelling going on. Hearing him so upset worked to shut me up. I found my sympathetic mother voice and told him it was OK. No, I didn’t say that. I should have. But what I said, in my sympathetic mother voice, was that he should have opened the door and gotten out; that he should have told me he really was going to vomit and that I should pull over to the side of the road. I said it in a nice voice, but I continued to lecture. The poor boy. The one bright spot was that once he finished vomiting, he said he felt much better.
A little farther down the road we got cell service, so I called Jeff and told him our plight. I asked him to check out the Queen of Diamonds Inn. He said would, but he also needed to attend to his spaghetti, so he’d call me right back. We continued on the road to the Inn, noticing a Sonic along the way, and by the time we reached the parking lot, Jeff called us back and said the Inn wasn’t too expensive and it had some very good reviews. That did it for me. It even had a pool. We were given room 44, and after checking it out and deciding we’d made a great decision (Parker had been thinking of the hotel across the street when he said it was a dive), we went to Sonic for dinner. Trey has been begging to go to Sonic this whole trip, so I killed two birds with one stone: dinner for the family and shutting Trey up. I’m pretty amazed that a fast-food joint was even located in this town; it’s not a thriving metropolis.
I took the Littles swimming after dinner but we came inside when lightning started flashing. We’re all inside right now writing. The boys were supposed to have kept journals about our trip. Today is August 15, and Trey hadn’t written in his since August 5. I told him he’s going to look at his journal as an adult and think, “What a slacker I was.”
Trey was sitting at the little table in the room to do his writing, and he started to feel cold from the air conditioning, so he decided to turn it off, or turn the heat on, or something. Whatever he did, the dust on the wall unit began to burn, so Cal went over to try to remedy the situation. Only, whatever was burning had created enough smoke that the smoke alarm began to sound. This caused Trey to run across the room to get as far away from the area of trouble as possible and Cal to stand perfectly still looking nervous, while Parker said, “Great, now the firemen are going to come.” Cal finally turned the unit off altogether and I opened the door and fanned the alarm, and shortly the alarm stopped.
Now Trey is so offended that I wrote about this incident, he’s writing in his journal that every five seconds, “Mom says the F word. She’s so immature.”
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1980227027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Day 37 – Dallas, Day 2
Miles traveled: 40
Hours on Road: 1
States covered: 1 –Texas
We ate breakfast at the hotel then hung out a while waiting for a call from Matt. Once we heard from him, we headed to his house. Chris stayed with the kids again while Matt took us out to lunch at his bar, Vickery Park. The food was amazing. I had a brisket sandwich with a sweet, creamy sauce on it. I never would have thought to put something sweet on a meat sandwich, but it worked perfectly.
After lunch, we went to downtown Dallas to walk around. We drove past the Alexander Liberman sculpture that the boys’ Uncle Keith and his family erected in front of the Bank of America Plaza. It’s pretty cool how it balances on three pointy legs. If you Google “Dallas sculpture liberman” you can check it out.
After that we parked and prepared to walk around, but we all had to pee, it was 106 degrees out, and Matt soon contacted a friend of his who could show us around the House of Blues, so we decided to do the indoor activity instead.
Some famous groups have played at this venue, so it was pretty exciting to get to check out the behind-the-scenes areas. We saw where the bands hang out while waiting for their stage time, the boys got to go up on stage, we went into the private area in which the band members can hang out after a show, either on their own or visiting with fans. Matt's name is engraved on a mirror in the private section because he was one of the original sponsors of the building's opening. I would love to see a show there. Maybe Jeff and I will make it back some time in the near future.
After the tour we went back to Matt’s. Everyone was pretty tired, so we picked up Chris and went back to the hotel to relax for a while. The Littles swam for a short time, then Chris and I went out and bought some food for dinner. We have a full kitchen so we could have bought anything. We ended up getting the boys sandwiches.
We visited with Matt and the family again for a while, then we said our goodbyes. We’re back in the hotel now; Chris is sleeping, the Littles are watching TV, and Parker and I are on computers. A nice relaxing way to end the evening.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1974167027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 1
States covered: 1 –Texas
We ate breakfast at the hotel then hung out a while waiting for a call from Matt. Once we heard from him, we headed to his house. Chris stayed with the kids again while Matt took us out to lunch at his bar, Vickery Park. The food was amazing. I had a brisket sandwich with a sweet, creamy sauce on it. I never would have thought to put something sweet on a meat sandwich, but it worked perfectly.
After lunch, we went to downtown Dallas to walk around. We drove past the Alexander Liberman sculpture that the boys’ Uncle Keith and his family erected in front of the Bank of America Plaza. It’s pretty cool how it balances on three pointy legs. If you Google “Dallas sculpture liberman” you can check it out.
After that we parked and prepared to walk around, but we all had to pee, it was 106 degrees out, and Matt soon contacted a friend of his who could show us around the House of Blues, so we decided to do the indoor activity instead.
Some famous groups have played at this venue, so it was pretty exciting to get to check out the behind-the-scenes areas. We saw where the bands hang out while waiting for their stage time, the boys got to go up on stage, we went into the private area in which the band members can hang out after a show, either on their own or visiting with fans. Matt's name is engraved on a mirror in the private section because he was one of the original sponsors of the building's opening. I would love to see a show there. Maybe Jeff and I will make it back some time in the near future.
After the tour we went back to Matt’s. Everyone was pretty tired, so we picked up Chris and went back to the hotel to relax for a while. The Littles swam for a short time, then Chris and I went out and bought some food for dinner. We have a full kitchen so we could have bought anything. We ended up getting the boys sandwiches.
We visited with Matt and the family again for a while, then we said our goodbyes. We’re back in the hotel now; Chris is sleeping, the Littles are watching TV, and Parker and I are on computers. A nice relaxing way to end the evening.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1974167027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Day 36 – Dallas, Day 1
Miles traveled: 240
Hours on Road: 4
States covered: 1 –Texas
It had been decided the night before that Chris would also come to Dallas to help take care of my nephew, Matt’s, wife, Tracy, while he entertained us. Tracy had come down with shingles that turned into viral meningitis, and though she was out of the hospital and on the mend, she was in no condition to take care of herself, much less their two small children, Jude, age two, and Talula, six months. We would follow behind Chris’s Mini, so I asked her ahead of time to keep in mind my delicate driving state and not put the pedal to the metal, which is her tendency. She promised she’d be good. And she was. In fact, a couple of times I moved into the passing lane to signal her that it was OK to pass the slowpoke ahead of us. We had excellent teamwork on the drive.
Along the way we stopped in West, Texas, which is not exactly in west Texas; it’s closer to central Texas. We stopped to pick up kolaches, Czechoslovakian pastries with various fillings, from dinner-type to sweet. Chris always stops on her drive to Dallas to buy a special cookie for Jude. The gas is also especially cheap at this stop; only $2.56 a gallon.
We arrived at Matt’s around 3 p.m. We went straight there rather than check into our hotel just in case traffic was bad. We called the hotel to let them know we’d be there very late (very late, as it would turn out). Talula was lying on the floor, rolling all over creation when we got there, and Jude was just waking up from a nap. What sweet kids. We hung out visiting for a while, and headed out to the baseball game around 5 p.m. It was exceptional luck that the Red Sox happened to be playing while we were there. We haven’t seen get Red Sox play in Boston in years -- tickets are too hard to get; we’ve gone to other stadiums to see them.
The kids and I were blown away when we discovered where we’d be sitting. Matt got us tickets in the Lou Gehrig suite where we had the option of viewing the game from the seats outside located on the first balcony overlooking homeplate, or from the air-conditioned room right behind those seats. The suite provided all the food and drinks we wanted: hotdogs with all the fixins, buffalo wings, cookies, brownies, fruit, soda, beer, wine, water. As if the accommodations weren’t enough, the view of the field was spectacular. Parker was able to get amazing photos of the plays. And to top it off, it was one of the most exciting games I’ve ever seen. The Red Sox got three homeruns in a row: Big Papi, Adrien Beltre, and JD Drew. In another inning the Rangers got two homeruns in a row: Michael Young and Josh Hamilton. JD Drew got another homerun later on, and Jed Lowry of the Red Sox also got a homerun. The game went into eleven innings, until Nelson Cruz got a walk-off homerun. It was unbelievable – eight homeruns in one game!! We couldn’t even be upset that the Red Sox didn’t win.
At one point I noticed that Parker had the camera trained on Big Papi but he wasn’t taking a picture. I casually asked him if he’s just looking through to check out Papi. He turned around to tell me that, no, he wasn’t’ a stalker, he was waiting to photograph Papi spitting on his hands and slapping them together. The exact moment he turned to tell me that, Papi spit on his hands and slapped them together. I felt so bad!
Because of the length of the game (four and half hours), we didn’t get to our hotel until around 1 a.m. We tried to park the van in the hotel’s parking garage, but with the bubble it wouldn’t fit. We parked on the road and went to our room, and all of us except Parker fell directly asleep. He played on the computer for a while.
All in all, an amazing day.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1975658027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 4
States covered: 1 –Texas
It had been decided the night before that Chris would also come to Dallas to help take care of my nephew, Matt’s, wife, Tracy, while he entertained us. Tracy had come down with shingles that turned into viral meningitis, and though she was out of the hospital and on the mend, she was in no condition to take care of herself, much less their two small children, Jude, age two, and Talula, six months. We would follow behind Chris’s Mini, so I asked her ahead of time to keep in mind my delicate driving state and not put the pedal to the metal, which is her tendency. She promised she’d be good. And she was. In fact, a couple of times I moved into the passing lane to signal her that it was OK to pass the slowpoke ahead of us. We had excellent teamwork on the drive.
Along the way we stopped in West, Texas, which is not exactly in west Texas; it’s closer to central Texas. We stopped to pick up kolaches, Czechoslovakian pastries with various fillings, from dinner-type to sweet. Chris always stops on her drive to Dallas to buy a special cookie for Jude. The gas is also especially cheap at this stop; only $2.56 a gallon.
We arrived at Matt’s around 3 p.m. We went straight there rather than check into our hotel just in case traffic was bad. We called the hotel to let them know we’d be there very late (very late, as it would turn out). Talula was lying on the floor, rolling all over creation when we got there, and Jude was just waking up from a nap. What sweet kids. We hung out visiting for a while, and headed out to the baseball game around 5 p.m. It was exceptional luck that the Red Sox happened to be playing while we were there. We haven’t seen get Red Sox play in Boston in years -- tickets are too hard to get; we’ve gone to other stadiums to see them.
The kids and I were blown away when we discovered where we’d be sitting. Matt got us tickets in the Lou Gehrig suite where we had the option of viewing the game from the seats outside located on the first balcony overlooking homeplate, or from the air-conditioned room right behind those seats. The suite provided all the food and drinks we wanted: hotdogs with all the fixins, buffalo wings, cookies, brownies, fruit, soda, beer, wine, water. As if the accommodations weren’t enough, the view of the field was spectacular. Parker was able to get amazing photos of the plays. And to top it off, it was one of the most exciting games I’ve ever seen. The Red Sox got three homeruns in a row: Big Papi, Adrien Beltre, and JD Drew. In another inning the Rangers got two homeruns in a row: Michael Young and Josh Hamilton. JD Drew got another homerun later on, and Jed Lowry of the Red Sox also got a homerun. The game went into eleven innings, until Nelson Cruz got a walk-off homerun. It was unbelievable – eight homeruns in one game!! We couldn’t even be upset that the Red Sox didn’t win.
At one point I noticed that Parker had the camera trained on Big Papi but he wasn’t taking a picture. I casually asked him if he’s just looking through to check out Papi. He turned around to tell me that, no, he wasn’t’ a stalker, he was waiting to photograph Papi spitting on his hands and slapping them together. The exact moment he turned to tell me that, Papi spit on his hands and slapped them together. I felt so bad!
Because of the length of the game (four and half hours), we didn’t get to our hotel until around 1 a.m. We tried to park the van in the hotel’s parking garage, but with the bubble it wouldn’t fit. We parked on the road and went to our room, and all of us except Parker fell directly asleep. He played on the computer for a while.
All in all, an amazing day.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1975658027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Day 35 – Austin, TX, Day 2
Miles traveled: 50
Hours on Road: It’s hard to tell since we stopped at several places
States covered: 1 – Texas
I slept like a log at Chrissy’s and took a nice hot shower to start my day. I shaved my legs for the first time since Jeff left. He must have taken the razor, and every time I was in a store I forget to get a new one. I was getting quite hairy, to the point that the hair was turning soft rather than prickly.
The plan for starting the day was for Parker and me to go with John to the shooting range. All the boys were dying to shoot a pistol, but the Littles were… too little. At the club to which John belongs, a member may have two visitors with him who are over the age of 13. If a visitor is under 13, the member must be with that person one-on-one. That wouldn’t work, so the Littles didn’t get to go. They weren’t happy, let me tell you.
Parker and I had a blast. John told us the ins and outs of shooting, and he had Parker load one of the magazines with bullets. It’s not easy to do until you get the hang of it. We all had to put on ear protection and protective glasses, and we set up the target out in the range. We were the only ones using the range, so we didn’t have to wait for others to “go cold,” as the saying goes. Before anyone can walk out onto the range, they have to make sure the area is cold, meaning everyone has put down their weapons. Once you’re off the range, everyone can “go hot.” Safety is the number one concern.
John shot first to show us the proper way to hold the pistol and to stand while shooting. The first gun we used was a 6-hour 9-millimeter, the same kind Navy Seals use. This made Parker very happy. The recoil of the gun is pretty massive, and the noise is loud, even with the ear protection on. Parker did OK with his first round of shooting, but I did really well. My first shot hit the edge of the bullseye. But I got worse each time I shot. John said that it’s typical for that to happen because the body becomes sensitive to the loud popping sound the gun makes, and people tend to start jerking their bodies in anticipation of the noise. I guess the more you do it, the more used to it you get, but I didn’t have that long, so I just continued to get worse. It was exhausting holding the gun steady while aiming, and then dealing with the recoil. It gave me a great appreciation for people who are good at shooting.
The second gun we used was a small .38 pocket revolver. It had a very short grip to hold, and it was really hard to pull the trigger. I was shocked at how hard it was. I guess part of the difficulty is that as you pull the trigger, the bullet not only fires, but the chamber has to move allowing the hole that contains the bullet to move into the right position for shooting. After one time of shooting the whole round each, we opted to go back to the 9-millimeter.
Parker improved immensely on his final round of shooting. I had taken photos and was able to show him that he wasn’t standing like John had shown us. While John leaned forward quite a bit, Parker and I were both leaning back to shoot. Once he straightened out his stance, he was near the bullseye every time. I just kept getting worse and worse, jumping each time I pulled the trigger. It was such an intense action, I could hear my heart beating inside the ear protector, and we were all sweating like crazy.
After our shooting spree, we went back to John’s house to get everyone else, and we did some driving around. Our first stop was Mt. Bonnell, which is the highest point in Austin. It overlooks Lake Austin, one of the seven highland lakes created by the Lower Colorado River Authority. The lakes were created for flood control, recreation, and power generation. The view was beautiful. The houses along the river are incredible: huge, unique, and expensive.
It was so hot – over 100 – that we decided our outdoor activities were done for the day. We went to lunch at Chuy’s. The food was great: I got a chicken-filled fried avocado; Parker got a burrito “as big as yo’ face”; Cal got three mini tacos; and Trey got french-fries. John ordered enchaladas and Paige ordered a salad, but Jack started to feel ill (a result of car-sickness they figured), so neither really enjoyed their meal. John took Jack out to the car first, then Paige went out to relieve him. Trey never ate his French-fries, either, but the rest of us thoroughly enjoyed our food.
After lunch we took a tour of downtown Austin. John pointed out where the guy flew the plane into the IRS building and where another guy blew up the Governor’s Mansion, and then we drove by the clock tower on the University of Texas campus from which someone shot several people back in the 60s. I asked John if the people of Austin are unusually angry. He just laughed.
We drove through the UT campus and stopped at a store for Parker to get a hat and a T-shirt. He’s a big Longhorns football fan. We were near the stadium, but it was too hot to look around, so we just drove by it. Sometimes that’s enough.
John and Jack had me cracking up on the ride home. Jack kept rolling his window down, which he evidently does when driving with his Grampa (Tobin), only Grampa simply locks the window so he has to stop. When his dad told him to stop, he said, “Lock it, Dad.” To which John replied, “Get some self-control.”
We hung out at John and Paige’s for a while before going to Chris and John Senior’s for swimming and dinner. Parker had been bugging me the entire trip to go see “Predators.” I wasn’t too enthusiastic about spending the money, so John set up his computer to record it while we were gone so we could watch it when we returned from Chris’s.
While at Chris and John’s, Chris, Paige, and I took the boys swimming at the club Chris and John belong to. The main pool is shaped like a tennis racket and the kids’ pool looks like a tennis ball. My boys got Jack to go out deeper in the big pool than he’d gone before. After swimming, we had a tour of the workout room and were then treated to the most magnificent, bright red setting sun.
We had pizza, then we headed back to John and Paige’s. John’s download of “Predators” was successful, so he set up the TV to play it, and the boys and I sat down to enjoy it. When it first came on, it was obvious it had been illegally recorded by someone sitting in a theater; you could see the two seats right in front of the recorder. The guy filming it must have noticed, because he fixed that issue. The only problems after that were the several people in the front of the theater who, throughout the movie, got up to leave and the fact that, according to Parker, the pixels were as big as his fist so he couldn’t tell who anyone was. It was late by the time we got the movie on, so Trey and I didn’t make it through the whole thing. We headed off to bed long before the movie was over. At least Parker saw it; I never promised he’d see a clear version of it.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1965311027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: It’s hard to tell since we stopped at several places
States covered: 1 – Texas
I slept like a log at Chrissy’s and took a nice hot shower to start my day. I shaved my legs for the first time since Jeff left. He must have taken the razor, and every time I was in a store I forget to get a new one. I was getting quite hairy, to the point that the hair was turning soft rather than prickly.
The plan for starting the day was for Parker and me to go with John to the shooting range. All the boys were dying to shoot a pistol, but the Littles were… too little. At the club to which John belongs, a member may have two visitors with him who are over the age of 13. If a visitor is under 13, the member must be with that person one-on-one. That wouldn’t work, so the Littles didn’t get to go. They weren’t happy, let me tell you.
Parker and I had a blast. John told us the ins and outs of shooting, and he had Parker load one of the magazines with bullets. It’s not easy to do until you get the hang of it. We all had to put on ear protection and protective glasses, and we set up the target out in the range. We were the only ones using the range, so we didn’t have to wait for others to “go cold,” as the saying goes. Before anyone can walk out onto the range, they have to make sure the area is cold, meaning everyone has put down their weapons. Once you’re off the range, everyone can “go hot.” Safety is the number one concern.
John shot first to show us the proper way to hold the pistol and to stand while shooting. The first gun we used was a 6-hour 9-millimeter, the same kind Navy Seals use. This made Parker very happy. The recoil of the gun is pretty massive, and the noise is loud, even with the ear protection on. Parker did OK with his first round of shooting, but I did really well. My first shot hit the edge of the bullseye. But I got worse each time I shot. John said that it’s typical for that to happen because the body becomes sensitive to the loud popping sound the gun makes, and people tend to start jerking their bodies in anticipation of the noise. I guess the more you do it, the more used to it you get, but I didn’t have that long, so I just continued to get worse. It was exhausting holding the gun steady while aiming, and then dealing with the recoil. It gave me a great appreciation for people who are good at shooting.
The second gun we used was a small .38 pocket revolver. It had a very short grip to hold, and it was really hard to pull the trigger. I was shocked at how hard it was. I guess part of the difficulty is that as you pull the trigger, the bullet not only fires, but the chamber has to move allowing the hole that contains the bullet to move into the right position for shooting. After one time of shooting the whole round each, we opted to go back to the 9-millimeter.
Parker improved immensely on his final round of shooting. I had taken photos and was able to show him that he wasn’t standing like John had shown us. While John leaned forward quite a bit, Parker and I were both leaning back to shoot. Once he straightened out his stance, he was near the bullseye every time. I just kept getting worse and worse, jumping each time I pulled the trigger. It was such an intense action, I could hear my heart beating inside the ear protector, and we were all sweating like crazy.
After our shooting spree, we went back to John’s house to get everyone else, and we did some driving around. Our first stop was Mt. Bonnell, which is the highest point in Austin. It overlooks Lake Austin, one of the seven highland lakes created by the Lower Colorado River Authority. The lakes were created for flood control, recreation, and power generation. The view was beautiful. The houses along the river are incredible: huge, unique, and expensive.
It was so hot – over 100 – that we decided our outdoor activities were done for the day. We went to lunch at Chuy’s. The food was great: I got a chicken-filled fried avocado; Parker got a burrito “as big as yo’ face”; Cal got three mini tacos; and Trey got french-fries. John ordered enchaladas and Paige ordered a salad, but Jack started to feel ill (a result of car-sickness they figured), so neither really enjoyed their meal. John took Jack out to the car first, then Paige went out to relieve him. Trey never ate his French-fries, either, but the rest of us thoroughly enjoyed our food.
After lunch we took a tour of downtown Austin. John pointed out where the guy flew the plane into the IRS building and where another guy blew up the Governor’s Mansion, and then we drove by the clock tower on the University of Texas campus from which someone shot several people back in the 60s. I asked John if the people of Austin are unusually angry. He just laughed.
We drove through the UT campus and stopped at a store for Parker to get a hat and a T-shirt. He’s a big Longhorns football fan. We were near the stadium, but it was too hot to look around, so we just drove by it. Sometimes that’s enough.
John and Jack had me cracking up on the ride home. Jack kept rolling his window down, which he evidently does when driving with his Grampa (Tobin), only Grampa simply locks the window so he has to stop. When his dad told him to stop, he said, “Lock it, Dad.” To which John replied, “Get some self-control.”
We hung out at John and Paige’s for a while before going to Chris and John Senior’s for swimming and dinner. Parker had been bugging me the entire trip to go see “Predators.” I wasn’t too enthusiastic about spending the money, so John set up his computer to record it while we were gone so we could watch it when we returned from Chris’s.
While at Chris and John’s, Chris, Paige, and I took the boys swimming at the club Chris and John belong to. The main pool is shaped like a tennis racket and the kids’ pool looks like a tennis ball. My boys got Jack to go out deeper in the big pool than he’d gone before. After swimming, we had a tour of the workout room and were then treated to the most magnificent, bright red setting sun.
We had pizza, then we headed back to John and Paige’s. John’s download of “Predators” was successful, so he set up the TV to play it, and the boys and I sat down to enjoy it. When it first came on, it was obvious it had been illegally recorded by someone sitting in a theater; you could see the two seats right in front of the recorder. The guy filming it must have noticed, because he fixed that issue. The only problems after that were the several people in the front of the theater who, throughout the movie, got up to leave and the fact that, according to Parker, the pixels were as big as his fist so he couldn’t tell who anyone was. It was late by the time we got the movie on, so Trey and I didn’t make it through the whole thing. We headed off to bed long before the movie was over. At least Parker saw it; I never promised he’d see a clear version of it.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1965311027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Day 34 – Austin, TX, Day 1
Miles traveled: 400
Hours on Road: 7
States covered: 1 – Texas
I heard coyotes whooping it up all night. They sound just like a bunch of obnoxious teenagers whooping it up. Once I figured out it wasn’t kids that I should/could yell at, the sound became a little spooky. There were obviously several of them in a group, and I must have heard several different groups throughout the night, because I heard the sounds coming from several different directions. Often they sounded far off in the distance; but I swear that one time I heard them they were running right through the campground.
Our drive to Austin was estimated (by MapQuest) to take about six hours. My nephew, John, who had been with us in Wyoming, said he’d meet us in a town called Fredericksburg. He would bring his wife, Paige, and their two kids, Jack and Grier. My sister, Chris, would also come. Meeting them there would break up the drive, and Chris said she’d take over for me for the drive into Austin. My nerves were grateful.
We left the campground pretty early. We were on our way by 8:08 a.m. We were to meet them at the National Museum of the Pacific War at 2 p.m., and though it was supposed to be a five hour drive to Fredericksburg, we knew from experience that five hours on the road really meant seven. The ride was uneventful and even a little dull. The landscape of west Texas is pretty flat. We arrived in Fredericksburg around 1:30, so we had only a half hour wait. The museum is right on the main road that runs through town, so we had no trouble finding it.
Chris called to let us know they were getting close, and by 2:15 we were heading into the Admiral Nimitz Museum, which leads into the main museum of the Pacific War. There was so much history in the building, it was impossible to go through and read everything. We saw planes that were used in the Pacific theater of the war, and lots of weapons. We learned that the automobile industry was a large participant in the manufacturing of WWII weapons, planes, and boats. The George H.W. Bush Gallery, which houses most of the museum, is self-guided, but you can also walk down the street to the Pacific Combat Zone where you go on a guided, very informational tour and you see an original PT boat and a site constructed to imitate a landing area on the Pacific Islands so you can get a feel for what it would have been like to fight on some of the island beaches. There were also a couple of Japanese tanks, which showed the limited availability of metal for the Japanese. Our tanks were way more Ninja than theirs.
After the museum, Chris drove the van back into Austin. My nerves were still frayed, so I was a pain-in-the-butt passenger, telling her she was driving too fast but then yelling at her when she didn’t get by a tractor-trailer fast enough. She was patient and obliging, but I think she wanted to smack me.
The boys were in the mood for barbeque, so we went out to Rudy’s for dinner. I’d been there before and knew the kids would love it. Chrissy recommended that we all get the brisket, which is beef, but I insisted on getting a little pork, as well. There was no need for the pork. The brisket was to die for. Parker made himself three sandwiches using the bread everyone gets with the meal. It’s the kind of place where you stand in line to order your food, then you take it to the table yourself. While waiting in line, you can grab a soda or a beer since they’re conveniently located in the center of the line area. It’s a really great place.
We ended the evening with a couple of drinks in John’s back yard, then Chris and I headed to her house for the night. She drove like a bat out of hell since the roads were empty, but because it wasn’t my vehicle and John’s bourbon had relaxed me, I didn’t nag her at all.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1965972027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 7
States covered: 1 – Texas
I heard coyotes whooping it up all night. They sound just like a bunch of obnoxious teenagers whooping it up. Once I figured out it wasn’t kids that I should/could yell at, the sound became a little spooky. There were obviously several of them in a group, and I must have heard several different groups throughout the night, because I heard the sounds coming from several different directions. Often they sounded far off in the distance; but I swear that one time I heard them they were running right through the campground.
Our drive to Austin was estimated (by MapQuest) to take about six hours. My nephew, John, who had been with us in Wyoming, said he’d meet us in a town called Fredericksburg. He would bring his wife, Paige, and their two kids, Jack and Grier. My sister, Chris, would also come. Meeting them there would break up the drive, and Chris said she’d take over for me for the drive into Austin. My nerves were grateful.
We left the campground pretty early. We were on our way by 8:08 a.m. We were to meet them at the National Museum of the Pacific War at 2 p.m., and though it was supposed to be a five hour drive to Fredericksburg, we knew from experience that five hours on the road really meant seven. The ride was uneventful and even a little dull. The landscape of west Texas is pretty flat. We arrived in Fredericksburg around 1:30, so we had only a half hour wait. The museum is right on the main road that runs through town, so we had no trouble finding it.
Chris called to let us know they were getting close, and by 2:15 we were heading into the Admiral Nimitz Museum, which leads into the main museum of the Pacific War. There was so much history in the building, it was impossible to go through and read everything. We saw planes that were used in the Pacific theater of the war, and lots of weapons. We learned that the automobile industry was a large participant in the manufacturing of WWII weapons, planes, and boats. The George H.W. Bush Gallery, which houses most of the museum, is self-guided, but you can also walk down the street to the Pacific Combat Zone where you go on a guided, very informational tour and you see an original PT boat and a site constructed to imitate a landing area on the Pacific Islands so you can get a feel for what it would have been like to fight on some of the island beaches. There were also a couple of Japanese tanks, which showed the limited availability of metal for the Japanese. Our tanks were way more Ninja than theirs.
After the museum, Chris drove the van back into Austin. My nerves were still frayed, so I was a pain-in-the-butt passenger, telling her she was driving too fast but then yelling at her when she didn’t get by a tractor-trailer fast enough. She was patient and obliging, but I think she wanted to smack me.
The boys were in the mood for barbeque, so we went out to Rudy’s for dinner. I’d been there before and knew the kids would love it. Chrissy recommended that we all get the brisket, which is beef, but I insisted on getting a little pork, as well. There was no need for the pork. The brisket was to die for. Parker made himself three sandwiches using the bread everyone gets with the meal. It’s the kind of place where you stand in line to order your food, then you take it to the table yourself. While waiting in line, you can grab a soda or a beer since they’re conveniently located in the center of the line area. It’s a really great place.
We ended the evening with a couple of drinks in John’s back yard, then Chris and I headed to her house for the night. She drove like a bat out of hell since the roads were empty, but because it wasn’t my vehicle and John’s bourbon had relaxed me, I didn’t nag her at all.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1965972027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Day 33 – Balmorhea, TX
Miles traveled: 200
Hours on Road: 4
States covered: 2 – New Mexico, Texas
We got up early so we could tour some of Carlsbad Caverns before we went on to Texas. On the way to the park, Parker brought up how hot it was all night, which (somehow) brought him to the subject of black belt camp. The thing about black belt camp for Parker and Cal is that I did not realize it was a real camp; or, I knew it was, but the fact that they’d need sleeping bags and pillows never registered in my head. It was a very rough time for me when they went because Jeff was gone for seven weeks for work and it was baseball season, so I was busy driving three boys to four teams’ practices and games (Parker was on two teams), and I was a little stressed. By the time black belt camp came around, I was only interested in getting rid of them, I didn’t think about what their needs would be. So I packed all their stuff into one bag and brought them to the person who was going to drive them the four hours to camp in Pennsylvania. As one of the other boys loaded his sleeping bag in the car, I realized my screw-up, but I didn’t have time to run home and get stuff for them, so this was going to have to be one of those character-building weekends for my boys. On our way to Carlsbad, Parker told us that the first night of the camp he was rolling around a lot on his top bunk and the kid below him yelled at him, telling him to cut it out. He told us that he wanted to say to the kid, “Look, I’m dealing here with two towels. Cut me some slack.” The image cracked me up; then Cal was quick to point out that one of those towels was his and he didn’t even have that to keep him warm.
We had already decided we’d go on the two self-guided tours at Carlsbad. The boys aren’t fond of people giving them too many facts, which is what you get on the guided tours. As we entered the cave where the bats had flown out the night before, known as the Natural Entrance, the bat odor that I’d found pleasant the evening before became disgusting and unbearable. I had to cover my mouth to avoid gagging. As we got farther into the cave, the smell either went away or I adjusted to its grossness, because I soon was able to breathe normally. The Natural Entrance is one mile long and goes down 800 feet below the ground. At the end of the trail, it goes back up to 750 feet deep, and there you find a retail area selling shirts, a restaurant, a bathroom, and an elevator that goes back up to the surface. I thought it was a unique concept to have these things so deep underground until I thought of the metro system in London, which probably goes that deep (or at least it feels that way when you’re hiking up the steps from Jubilee). It’s at this spot that you have the option of going up in the elevator or continuing the self-guided tour through the Big Room, which is also one mile. We toured the big room. (I have since Googled the London Underground, and Hampstead Station is the deepest at only 192 feet, so I guess a store at 750 feet is pretty cool!)
The night before, when we were there for the bat exodus, I could not appreciate how deep the cave mouth was; we were able to see only the top portion of its mouth. When we walked down into it, I realized that those bats flew up in that tornado-like circle for more than 100 feet. No wonder they needed to build up momentum. I tried to imagine what it looked like to see them from the inside of the cave; it must be magnificent. The ranger the night before said it’s such a flurry of wings and bodies, that when a bird gets caught up in the fray (and there are lots of birds that fly around the mouth of the cave), there is often a dead body (either bird or bat) found in the walkway the next morning. The bats are able to work around each other, but the birds can really interfere with their mojo.
We had a great two-hour tour and took lots of pictures. It’s hard to photograph the immensity of the caves – the depth just doesn’t translate well. The stalactites, stalagmites, and columns, however, are impressive in the photos. The most impressive formations are lit up so they were easy to photograph. The cave is a constant 54 degrees Fahrenheit, so we didn’t want to leave; it was close to 100 degrees up top.
The ride to Balmorhea was through flat terrain. Nothing but flat. Again, I made sure I got a full tank of gas before heading out into nowhereland. The more traveling I do out west, the more impressed I am with those who were willing to head out that way without knowing what to expect. We might get nervous now and then that we’ll run out of gas, but we simply have to call AAA. The explorers had nothing to fall back on.
Near Balmorhea, the tank was getting a little low, and we’d gone through three towns that didn’t have a gas station, so Parker had Lee look one up for us. As luck would have it, we were about 500 feet from a gas station. It was on the other side of the overpass ahead of us, so that’s why we didn’t see it at first. After getting gas, Lee had us go on the small road that runs parallel to the highway. About one mile down that road, I decided Lee was on drugs again, so I turned around and got back on the highway. One and half miles down that, we exited and got on the little side road we’d been on. When will I learn to listen to Lee?!!
Balmorhea State Park was our destination. The park’s centerpiece is the San Solomon Springs, a spring-fed freshwater pool out in the middle of desert flatlands. It has been providing water for Native Americans and early explorers for thousands of years. It’s now a big cement pond, as it’s been outlined in cement to maintain its integrity. The cement is covered in green, mossy stuff, so where its bottom is reachable, it’s very slippery. The center circle is about six feet deep (Parker could just touch the bottom with his toes). Two sections stick out like legs off one side of the circle; one leg is shallow, the other is deep enough that people can safely dive off the 10-foot diving board located at its tip. The boys loved slipping along the cement floor of the shallow end. What they didn’t like was the poop-looking stuff floating throughout the deep end of the pool. It came from the trees that overhang that side, but you’d think someone would put a little effort into siphoning it off the water, since it really did look like “a turdy in the pool.”
For dinner, we drove through Wild Rose Pass in the Davis Mountains to Fort Davis where we ate at the Chuckwagon. We had delicious barbeque sandwiches followed by ice cream from the Caboose next door to the Chuckwagon. It was here that we felt really guilty about eating such great food while Faja was home cooking a turkey burger for himself. Thanks Faja!
The drive through the Davis Mountains was beautiful. The hillside was a dark green, and there were red cliffs at the top of each hill. We were treated to a red and yellow sunset between peaks as we headed back to our tent and listened to “Down with the Sickness” for the 7,000th time. Disturbed is officially Parker’s favorite band. On ride home I asked Parker to check the roof to make sure everything up there was securely attached. I do that several times throughout every drive we take. He looked up using the side mirror, looked back at me with panic on his face and asked, “We took cooler down, right?” We had. We left it back at our campsite, but he was so used to seeing it up there, he got a little nervous when it wasn’t.
Back at camp, we took out and looked through all the souvenirs the boys had bought to that point: Parker’s cube collection, Cal’s shot glasses, and Trey’s coins. It was fun until the giant jumpy creatures that make Texas their home decided to join us at the table. We have grasshoppers in Connecticut, but we don’t have the locusts that Texas has. The boys all went into the tent to “sleep” while Mom packed away the souvenirs out in bug central.
It was so hot while we tried to go to sleep, the boys fought over the little fan we brought along for its white noise. Parker had it most of the time, but Trey whined enough that I made Parker let him use it for a while. He fell asleep with the fan sitting on his chest, blowing on his face. Once he was asleep, Parker took it back. Cal was busy reading so he didn’t care. There was a large group camping near us and they were making lots of noise. I’ve generally been able to sleep through the talking at other sites, but when the girls giggled and shouted on their walk back from the bathroom, I yelled out my tent window, “Hey guys, there are people trying to sleep here.” They didn’t make another peep.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1959304027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 4
States covered: 2 – New Mexico, Texas
We got up early so we could tour some of Carlsbad Caverns before we went on to Texas. On the way to the park, Parker brought up how hot it was all night, which (somehow) brought him to the subject of black belt camp. The thing about black belt camp for Parker and Cal is that I did not realize it was a real camp; or, I knew it was, but the fact that they’d need sleeping bags and pillows never registered in my head. It was a very rough time for me when they went because Jeff was gone for seven weeks for work and it was baseball season, so I was busy driving three boys to four teams’ practices and games (Parker was on two teams), and I was a little stressed. By the time black belt camp came around, I was only interested in getting rid of them, I didn’t think about what their needs would be. So I packed all their stuff into one bag and brought them to the person who was going to drive them the four hours to camp in Pennsylvania. As one of the other boys loaded his sleeping bag in the car, I realized my screw-up, but I didn’t have time to run home and get stuff for them, so this was going to have to be one of those character-building weekends for my boys. On our way to Carlsbad, Parker told us that the first night of the camp he was rolling around a lot on his top bunk and the kid below him yelled at him, telling him to cut it out. He told us that he wanted to say to the kid, “Look, I’m dealing here with two towels. Cut me some slack.” The image cracked me up; then Cal was quick to point out that one of those towels was his and he didn’t even have that to keep him warm.
We had already decided we’d go on the two self-guided tours at Carlsbad. The boys aren’t fond of people giving them too many facts, which is what you get on the guided tours. As we entered the cave where the bats had flown out the night before, known as the Natural Entrance, the bat odor that I’d found pleasant the evening before became disgusting and unbearable. I had to cover my mouth to avoid gagging. As we got farther into the cave, the smell either went away or I adjusted to its grossness, because I soon was able to breathe normally. The Natural Entrance is one mile long and goes down 800 feet below the ground. At the end of the trail, it goes back up to 750 feet deep, and there you find a retail area selling shirts, a restaurant, a bathroom, and an elevator that goes back up to the surface. I thought it was a unique concept to have these things so deep underground until I thought of the metro system in London, which probably goes that deep (or at least it feels that way when you’re hiking up the steps from Jubilee). It’s at this spot that you have the option of going up in the elevator or continuing the self-guided tour through the Big Room, which is also one mile. We toured the big room. (I have since Googled the London Underground, and Hampstead Station is the deepest at only 192 feet, so I guess a store at 750 feet is pretty cool!)
The night before, when we were there for the bat exodus, I could not appreciate how deep the cave mouth was; we were able to see only the top portion of its mouth. When we walked down into it, I realized that those bats flew up in that tornado-like circle for more than 100 feet. No wonder they needed to build up momentum. I tried to imagine what it looked like to see them from the inside of the cave; it must be magnificent. The ranger the night before said it’s such a flurry of wings and bodies, that when a bird gets caught up in the fray (and there are lots of birds that fly around the mouth of the cave), there is often a dead body (either bird or bat) found in the walkway the next morning. The bats are able to work around each other, but the birds can really interfere with their mojo.
We had a great two-hour tour and took lots of pictures. It’s hard to photograph the immensity of the caves – the depth just doesn’t translate well. The stalactites, stalagmites, and columns, however, are impressive in the photos. The most impressive formations are lit up so they were easy to photograph. The cave is a constant 54 degrees Fahrenheit, so we didn’t want to leave; it was close to 100 degrees up top.
The ride to Balmorhea was through flat terrain. Nothing but flat. Again, I made sure I got a full tank of gas before heading out into nowhereland. The more traveling I do out west, the more impressed I am with those who were willing to head out that way without knowing what to expect. We might get nervous now and then that we’ll run out of gas, but we simply have to call AAA. The explorers had nothing to fall back on.
Near Balmorhea, the tank was getting a little low, and we’d gone through three towns that didn’t have a gas station, so Parker had Lee look one up for us. As luck would have it, we were about 500 feet from a gas station. It was on the other side of the overpass ahead of us, so that’s why we didn’t see it at first. After getting gas, Lee had us go on the small road that runs parallel to the highway. About one mile down that road, I decided Lee was on drugs again, so I turned around and got back on the highway. One and half miles down that, we exited and got on the little side road we’d been on. When will I learn to listen to Lee?!!
Balmorhea State Park was our destination. The park’s centerpiece is the San Solomon Springs, a spring-fed freshwater pool out in the middle of desert flatlands. It has been providing water for Native Americans and early explorers for thousands of years. It’s now a big cement pond, as it’s been outlined in cement to maintain its integrity. The cement is covered in green, mossy stuff, so where its bottom is reachable, it’s very slippery. The center circle is about six feet deep (Parker could just touch the bottom with his toes). Two sections stick out like legs off one side of the circle; one leg is shallow, the other is deep enough that people can safely dive off the 10-foot diving board located at its tip. The boys loved slipping along the cement floor of the shallow end. What they didn’t like was the poop-looking stuff floating throughout the deep end of the pool. It came from the trees that overhang that side, but you’d think someone would put a little effort into siphoning it off the water, since it really did look like “a turdy in the pool.”
For dinner, we drove through Wild Rose Pass in the Davis Mountains to Fort Davis where we ate at the Chuckwagon. We had delicious barbeque sandwiches followed by ice cream from the Caboose next door to the Chuckwagon. It was here that we felt really guilty about eating such great food while Faja was home cooking a turkey burger for himself. Thanks Faja!
The drive through the Davis Mountains was beautiful. The hillside was a dark green, and there were red cliffs at the top of each hill. We were treated to a red and yellow sunset between peaks as we headed back to our tent and listened to “Down with the Sickness” for the 7,000th time. Disturbed is officially Parker’s favorite band. On ride home I asked Parker to check the roof to make sure everything up there was securely attached. I do that several times throughout every drive we take. He looked up using the side mirror, looked back at me with panic on his face and asked, “We took cooler down, right?” We had. We left it back at our campsite, but he was so used to seeing it up there, he got a little nervous when it wasn’t.
Back at camp, we took out and looked through all the souvenirs the boys had bought to that point: Parker’s cube collection, Cal’s shot glasses, and Trey’s coins. It was fun until the giant jumpy creatures that make Texas their home decided to join us at the table. We have grasshoppers in Connecticut, but we don’t have the locusts that Texas has. The boys all went into the tent to “sleep” while Mom packed away the souvenirs out in bug central.
It was so hot while we tried to go to sleep, the boys fought over the little fan we brought along for its white noise. Parker had it most of the time, but Trey whined enough that I made Parker let him use it for a while. He fell asleep with the fan sitting on his chest, blowing on his face. Once he was asleep, Parker took it back. Cal was busy reading so he didn’t care. There was a large group camping near us and they were making lots of noise. I’ve generally been able to sleep through the talking at other sites, but when the girls giggled and shouted on their walk back from the bathroom, I yelled out my tent window, “Hey guys, there are people trying to sleep here.” They didn’t make another peep.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1959304027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Day 32 – Carlsbad, NM
Miles traveled: 270
Hours on Road: 5
States covered: 1 – New Mexico
Today started out with a bang, or should I say a crash? I was just exiting the shower area and entering the main part of our hotel room when I heard a loud thud. I asked what had just happened. The denials came flying toward me: nothing; it’s nothing; don’t worry; it’s fine. Then I saw the bed on a tilt, and the truth of the whole thing flashed before my eyes. They had discovered last night how much fun it is to jump high in the air and land prone on the bed. I made them stop the night before, saying it made too much noise, but that order of cessation obviously did not extend into the following day, so while I was out of the room, they commenced their destructive behavior.
As Cal lifted the bed, Parker placed the wooden leg back where it belonged, and we hightailed it outta there. I told them if we get charged for the break, they’re paying for it. We really are leaving devastation in our wake!!
We drove through a town called Encino; it looked like a ghost town. Every store and gas station was shut down. Oddly enough, there were two really nice houses in the center of town, one of which had a beautiful man-made pond surrounded by large rocks with a waterfall cascading down. Which one doesn’t fit in here, which one doesn’t belong??
After Encino we passed through Vaughn, also a wreck of a town. And then…nothing. Literally. For the next 70 miles, there was absolutely nothing. Oh, we saw a driveway or a road off to one side or the other, but they led so far into the horizon that one could never be sure what they led to. It was a good thing we started this day with a full tank of gas, because anyone who ran out of gas on this road was SOL. I had to pee so bad at one point, we just pulled over into the mouth of one of those mysterious roads and I squatted right there, next to the road. I just didn’t care.
As we got back in the van to leave the pee spot, an SUV came driving slowly along, going the WRONG WAY on the highway. She made a U-turn at our pee spot, and went on back the way she had come. You just don’t see things like that every day.
To be honest, somewhere between our pee spot and the 70 mile mark that I indicated as the first place we saw any sign of civilization there was a rest stop. It was tiny, but it was there. The road we were on had a speed limit of 75 mph, but we had to cross the other side of the road to get to the rest stop. They must have faith that the road never gets too busy. While there was nothing but flatness all around us, I could see some mountains way off to our right; they must have been 150 miles away. The rest stop had information on them. They were the Ogallala Mountains, which I was very excited to learn. Ogallala plays a big part in my favorite made-for-TV movie, “Lonesome Dove.” Now I can say I’ve seen the mountains.
Parker was concerned for all the cows we saw in the fields along the sides of the road. With no houses around, he felt that they’d been abandoned. At the 70 mile mark after Vaughn we saw the first house. It was a good-sized building, evidently a cow ranch, about two miles off the road. After that, we saw an occasional house, but never a gas station. We didn’t see a gas station until we reached Roswell. The first gas station I pulled into I could not get gas from because it was a Sam’s Club gas station. We didn’t have anything to fear, though, because Roswell is a huge town. I would say it’s on par with Torrington, but out in the middle of nowhere. Every building we passed had some reference to aliens.
The next town after Roswell was Artesia. The first thing that greets you in town is a large Adult Video store. Then there’s a waste transfer station, some huge, smelly industrial plant of some kind, a steel plant, and an industrial complex. A lovely place! It’s actually supposed to be an artistic center for the area; it’s on our list of places to visit that the KOA gave us.
Our KOA, with the Kabin, was about 40 miles before Carlsbad Caverns. We found out that we were too late to go on any of the tours at the Caverns. They all ended by 3:30, and we hadn’t arrived at the Kampground until 2:30. We decided we’d at least go later in the evening to see the bats take off, then get an early start in the morning to go on two of the self-guided tours. Our ride to Balmorhea, TX is only two and half hours tomorrow, and the Caverns won’t be far out of our way.
After we had a little dinner here (you order it from their kitchen and they deliver right to your kabin!!), we went to see the bats leave the bat cave at Carlsbad Caverns. It took us about 50 minutes to get there. Lee had us go a different route from the one the KOA people gave us. We think he’s starting to do drugs. Every now and then he has us go in funky directions, and then there was that issue of his being off by an hour for a couple of days. Anyway, he did end up getting us there. We arrived at the Visitors Center 10 minutes before it closed. Cal and Trey were able to get their shot glass and coin, respectively. To see the bats leave the cave, you head out to an area behind the visitor center. They said that the night before, the bats had left at around 8:05, so we had a little time to wait.
There’s a nice stone amphitheater built in front of and slightly above the cave, so you get a good view. The cave mouth opening is on one side of the giant hole over which the amphitheater sits. The woman ranger in charge of the evening gave some facts about the area and about bats in general, and she answered questions. She also informed everyone that they should be as quiet as possible when the bats begin to leave so they do not decide to go back into the cave and wait until it gets quiet. She also said there are no photos allowed (the noise and the lights disturb the bats, and there’s a more than $100 fine for taking photos during the exit), and all cells phones should be turned off. Parker didn’t like her because she didn’t seem to really know enough about her topic. I have to agree with him.
We learned that there are three species of bats that exit the cave we were sitting in front of, though there are 16 species of bats within all the Carlsbad Caverns. These bats are not mosquito eaters, like we all presumed. They eat moths, beetles, and June bugs. Though the mothers tend to their babies’ needs, and can distinguish their own baby from the thousands of others, they don’t actually stay with their babies at sleeping time. The males are in one section, the females in another, and the babies in another. When they exit the cave, they cannot just fly straight out. They need to “warm up” and build up momentum before they can take off up through the depression that the cave sits within. They exit the mouth of the cave swarming below the amphitheater in a counter clockwise direction, and as momentum builds, groups begin to peel off and head out into the night sky. A microphone system has been installed at the mouth of the cave so the people up top can hear when the bats begin to come out of the cave. Once that noise is heard, everyone is expected to be silent, which we were, except for the squeaky fart that sneaked out of someone very near me. All my boys deny it was them.
I got so excited when I heard the whooshing sound from the speaker. Maybe five minutes after the first sound, I could see a bat every now and then poking up over the edge of the amphitheater wall, and it was always heading in a counter-clockwise direction, just like she said it would. In the blink of an eye, there were suddenly thousands of them, spinning like a small tornado, round and round, then a few would break off and head out; in another blink of an eye, the exodus began. The sound of the thousands of bats flying in the circle and the thousands more taking off into the night sky sounded like a slight breeze blowing through the trees. They just kept coming and coming, and trailing off into the night, like a vaguely visible comet. For anyone who has seen “The Green Mile,” they reminded me of the scene where John Coffey blows the “badness” out of his mouth; they were that thickly grouped. They began their exit at 8 p.m., and when we left at 8:30, the exodus had not slowed in the least. The ranger had said that it could go on for up to three hours; that’s how deep into the cave they roost. I asked her about the sweet smell that came out when their exit began. She said it was them, though I couldn’t ascertain from what she said whether it was their urine or their guano odor, but whatever it was, I found it rather pleasing, while Parker found it absolutely gross. But what does he know? He hates cilantro.
The flight was absolutely amazing! There had to be hundreds of thousands, with more to go. I originally said there were millions of them, but Parker said that was a gross overestimation. I guess we got there on a good night with a quiet enough crowd. I’m excited about returning tomorrow to walk through that same cave.
For (very few) corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1941376027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 5
States covered: 1 – New Mexico
Today started out with a bang, or should I say a crash? I was just exiting the shower area and entering the main part of our hotel room when I heard a loud thud. I asked what had just happened. The denials came flying toward me: nothing; it’s nothing; don’t worry; it’s fine. Then I saw the bed on a tilt, and the truth of the whole thing flashed before my eyes. They had discovered last night how much fun it is to jump high in the air and land prone on the bed. I made them stop the night before, saying it made too much noise, but that order of cessation obviously did not extend into the following day, so while I was out of the room, they commenced their destructive behavior.
As Cal lifted the bed, Parker placed the wooden leg back where it belonged, and we hightailed it outta there. I told them if we get charged for the break, they’re paying for it. We really are leaving devastation in our wake!!
We drove through a town called Encino; it looked like a ghost town. Every store and gas station was shut down. Oddly enough, there were two really nice houses in the center of town, one of which had a beautiful man-made pond surrounded by large rocks with a waterfall cascading down. Which one doesn’t fit in here, which one doesn’t belong??
After Encino we passed through Vaughn, also a wreck of a town. And then…nothing. Literally. For the next 70 miles, there was absolutely nothing. Oh, we saw a driveway or a road off to one side or the other, but they led so far into the horizon that one could never be sure what they led to. It was a good thing we started this day with a full tank of gas, because anyone who ran out of gas on this road was SOL. I had to pee so bad at one point, we just pulled over into the mouth of one of those mysterious roads and I squatted right there, next to the road. I just didn’t care.
As we got back in the van to leave the pee spot, an SUV came driving slowly along, going the WRONG WAY on the highway. She made a U-turn at our pee spot, and went on back the way she had come. You just don’t see things like that every day.
To be honest, somewhere between our pee spot and the 70 mile mark that I indicated as the first place we saw any sign of civilization there was a rest stop. It was tiny, but it was there. The road we were on had a speed limit of 75 mph, but we had to cross the other side of the road to get to the rest stop. They must have faith that the road never gets too busy. While there was nothing but flatness all around us, I could see some mountains way off to our right; they must have been 150 miles away. The rest stop had information on them. They were the Ogallala Mountains, which I was very excited to learn. Ogallala plays a big part in my favorite made-for-TV movie, “Lonesome Dove.” Now I can say I’ve seen the mountains.
Parker was concerned for all the cows we saw in the fields along the sides of the road. With no houses around, he felt that they’d been abandoned. At the 70 mile mark after Vaughn we saw the first house. It was a good-sized building, evidently a cow ranch, about two miles off the road. After that, we saw an occasional house, but never a gas station. We didn’t see a gas station until we reached Roswell. The first gas station I pulled into I could not get gas from because it was a Sam’s Club gas station. We didn’t have anything to fear, though, because Roswell is a huge town. I would say it’s on par with Torrington, but out in the middle of nowhere. Every building we passed had some reference to aliens.
The next town after Roswell was Artesia. The first thing that greets you in town is a large Adult Video store. Then there’s a waste transfer station, some huge, smelly industrial plant of some kind, a steel plant, and an industrial complex. A lovely place! It’s actually supposed to be an artistic center for the area; it’s on our list of places to visit that the KOA gave us.
Our KOA, with the Kabin, was about 40 miles before Carlsbad Caverns. We found out that we were too late to go on any of the tours at the Caverns. They all ended by 3:30, and we hadn’t arrived at the Kampground until 2:30. We decided we’d at least go later in the evening to see the bats take off, then get an early start in the morning to go on two of the self-guided tours. Our ride to Balmorhea, TX is only two and half hours tomorrow, and the Caverns won’t be far out of our way.
After we had a little dinner here (you order it from their kitchen and they deliver right to your kabin!!), we went to see the bats leave the bat cave at Carlsbad Caverns. It took us about 50 minutes to get there. Lee had us go a different route from the one the KOA people gave us. We think he’s starting to do drugs. Every now and then he has us go in funky directions, and then there was that issue of his being off by an hour for a couple of days. Anyway, he did end up getting us there. We arrived at the Visitors Center 10 minutes before it closed. Cal and Trey were able to get their shot glass and coin, respectively. To see the bats leave the cave, you head out to an area behind the visitor center. They said that the night before, the bats had left at around 8:05, so we had a little time to wait.
There’s a nice stone amphitheater built in front of and slightly above the cave, so you get a good view. The cave mouth opening is on one side of the giant hole over which the amphitheater sits. The woman ranger in charge of the evening gave some facts about the area and about bats in general, and she answered questions. She also informed everyone that they should be as quiet as possible when the bats begin to leave so they do not decide to go back into the cave and wait until it gets quiet. She also said there are no photos allowed (the noise and the lights disturb the bats, and there’s a more than $100 fine for taking photos during the exit), and all cells phones should be turned off. Parker didn’t like her because she didn’t seem to really know enough about her topic. I have to agree with him.
We learned that there are three species of bats that exit the cave we were sitting in front of, though there are 16 species of bats within all the Carlsbad Caverns. These bats are not mosquito eaters, like we all presumed. They eat moths, beetles, and June bugs. Though the mothers tend to their babies’ needs, and can distinguish their own baby from the thousands of others, they don’t actually stay with their babies at sleeping time. The males are in one section, the females in another, and the babies in another. When they exit the cave, they cannot just fly straight out. They need to “warm up” and build up momentum before they can take off up through the depression that the cave sits within. They exit the mouth of the cave swarming below the amphitheater in a counter clockwise direction, and as momentum builds, groups begin to peel off and head out into the night sky. A microphone system has been installed at the mouth of the cave so the people up top can hear when the bats begin to come out of the cave. Once that noise is heard, everyone is expected to be silent, which we were, except for the squeaky fart that sneaked out of someone very near me. All my boys deny it was them.
I got so excited when I heard the whooshing sound from the speaker. Maybe five minutes after the first sound, I could see a bat every now and then poking up over the edge of the amphitheater wall, and it was always heading in a counter-clockwise direction, just like she said it would. In the blink of an eye, there were suddenly thousands of them, spinning like a small tornado, round and round, then a few would break off and head out; in another blink of an eye, the exodus began. The sound of the thousands of bats flying in the circle and the thousands more taking off into the night sky sounded like a slight breeze blowing through the trees. They just kept coming and coming, and trailing off into the night, like a vaguely visible comet. For anyone who has seen “The Green Mile,” they reminded me of the scene where John Coffey blows the “badness” out of his mouth; they were that thickly grouped. They began their exit at 8 p.m., and when we left at 8:30, the exodus had not slowed in the least. The ranger had said that it could go on for up to three hours; that’s how deep into the cave they roost. I asked her about the sweet smell that came out when their exit began. She said it was them, though I couldn’t ascertain from what she said whether it was their urine or their guano odor, but whatever it was, I found it rather pleasing, while Parker found it absolutely gross. But what does he know? He hates cilantro.
The flight was absolutely amazing! There had to be hundreds of thousands, with more to go. I originally said there were millions of them, but Parker said that was a gross overestimation. I guess we got there on a good night with a quiet enough crowd. I’m excited about returning tomorrow to walk through that same cave.
For (very few) corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1941376027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Monday, August 9, 2010
Day 31 – Sky City
Miles traveled: 130
Hours on Road: 2
States covered: 1 – New Mexico
I’m paying today for the stressful driving of yesterday. I can barely move my head.
We had our free breakfast then left for the Sky City -- the Acoma Pueblos. All the pamphlets and road signs on the highway make it seem so simple to get there: just take exit 102. Only, once off the exit, there’s no more direction, not even on the pamphlets! There’s this incredible roundabout that leads to another roundabout and then a kind of scootabout (it wasn’t fully round); but at no point on any of the loops did it say where to go. There was a little sign that said “Acomita,” but that doesn’t necessarily mean Acoma. If you mean Acoma, say Acoma. After going a couple miles the wrong way, we turned around and headed for Acomita, and finally we saw additional signs that pointed toward the Sky City.
There was a sign as we neared the site that was worn to the point of being mostly unreadable, but what we could read said: “No photographs.” Great. That’s what we came for. We snuck a last second photo of the buildings on the hill as we pulled into the Visitor’s Center. What a good role model I am for my kids: “Hurry up and get the photo, Cal, before someone sees you!”
Turns out, you can use a camera. You have to wear a tag on it that indicates you’ve been given permission to carry it with you. You just can’t take photos of the cemetery or inside the church and the museum. You also need to ask permission before photographing the people who live there. That was the most amazing thing – people still live there.
To get to the pueblos, you have to buy a ticket for the bus. Once at the top, you have to follow the tour guide. Ours was a woman named Geri. She was quite funny, in a very dry way. I asked if she lived there, and she said she has a family house there, but she also lives in a nearby town. That’s what most people do since there is no electricity or running water in the “city.” She told us that it is a matriarchal society, so the women own everything. Men are the ruling body (or are made to believe so, as she put it), but that seems to even things out: women own the stuff, men make the rules. In fact, my own family followed the matriarchal tradition that the youngest girl inherits the house, but also has the responsibility of caring for the parents and grandparents for the remainders of their lives.
All along the tour there were residents selling their wares: jewelry, food, water, and mostly pottery. Some of the pottery was amateurish, but some was unbelievable. You could tell right away who had the talent and who was just carrying on tradition as though that was good enough. I couldn’t afford any of the really nice stuff, so I didn’t buy anything (except a small blueberry pie) up top.
There are actually 5,000 residents of the pueblos, but only about 34 live there year round. The creature comforts of the lower land are just too appealing.
The tourists all had three options for getting back down to the Visitors Center: take the bus, walk along the road, or take the original pathway used by the initial inhabitants. We chose the original pathway, of course. I figured it would be a little steep, but because we’d been told they carried water up the trail, I thought it would, at least, be manageable. Ha! I couldn’t believe just how steep it was. Rock steps were carved into the side of the cliff, and the only hand holds were those that had been dug into the sides through a thousand years of use by people who were obviously as concerned about falling as I was. But once we’d started, there was no turning back (there were people behind us).
My neck was hurting so bad on the way back to the hotel, I told the boys I was going to stop and get some tonic, which is good for tight muscles. Of course, I’d have to get a little gin or vodka to go with it. Parker programmed Lee to find us a liquor store, which he did, but it was closed. It was Sunday, so I figured New Mexico must be as backwards as Connecticut. We needed more water, so I stopped in a 7-11. As luck would have it, liquor IS sold on Sundays in New Mexico, and this 7-11 just happened to a vendor of said merchandise. I looked around for tonic and couldn’t find any, so I asked the girl behind the counter if they carry it. She said she’d never heard of it. I asked her, then what do you put your vodka in? She just laughed. I was serious! I bought some iced-tea, since I like the vodka-infused iced-tea so much, and hoped that the boys wouldn’t notice that I didn’t actually have any tonic – my original excuse for buying the vodka.
We hung out watching TV for a while, then I took Cal and Trey to the pool. They didn’t allow diving or jumping, so it wasn’t all that much fun for them. They swam for about an hour.
That’s all we did all day. We mainly stayed in our room and watched TV and played on the computer. My head and neck were killing me, so it was a nice break.
I’ve had it pointed out to me that, when we leave an area, bad things happen. The day we left the Tetons, a group of climbers were struck by lightning. Five or six of them were hospitalized and one was killed when he fell over the side. In Yellowstone, three people were attacked by bears as they slept in their tents; one was killed. At the Grand Canyon, a tourist fell 75 feet and broke a leg and a wrist. Then, on our ride into Albuquerque, a truck passed me and immediately proceeded to billow black smoke, forcing him to pull-off to the side of the road. I guess people ought to be afraid to see us leave.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1940882027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 2
States covered: 1 – New Mexico
I’m paying today for the stressful driving of yesterday. I can barely move my head.
We had our free breakfast then left for the Sky City -- the Acoma Pueblos. All the pamphlets and road signs on the highway make it seem so simple to get there: just take exit 102. Only, once off the exit, there’s no more direction, not even on the pamphlets! There’s this incredible roundabout that leads to another roundabout and then a kind of scootabout (it wasn’t fully round); but at no point on any of the loops did it say where to go. There was a little sign that said “Acomita,” but that doesn’t necessarily mean Acoma. If you mean Acoma, say Acoma. After going a couple miles the wrong way, we turned around and headed for Acomita, and finally we saw additional signs that pointed toward the Sky City.
There was a sign as we neared the site that was worn to the point of being mostly unreadable, but what we could read said: “No photographs.” Great. That’s what we came for. We snuck a last second photo of the buildings on the hill as we pulled into the Visitor’s Center. What a good role model I am for my kids: “Hurry up and get the photo, Cal, before someone sees you!”
Turns out, you can use a camera. You have to wear a tag on it that indicates you’ve been given permission to carry it with you. You just can’t take photos of the cemetery or inside the church and the museum. You also need to ask permission before photographing the people who live there. That was the most amazing thing – people still live there.
To get to the pueblos, you have to buy a ticket for the bus. Once at the top, you have to follow the tour guide. Ours was a woman named Geri. She was quite funny, in a very dry way. I asked if she lived there, and she said she has a family house there, but she also lives in a nearby town. That’s what most people do since there is no electricity or running water in the “city.” She told us that it is a matriarchal society, so the women own everything. Men are the ruling body (or are made to believe so, as she put it), but that seems to even things out: women own the stuff, men make the rules. In fact, my own family followed the matriarchal tradition that the youngest girl inherits the house, but also has the responsibility of caring for the parents and grandparents for the remainders of their lives.
All along the tour there were residents selling their wares: jewelry, food, water, and mostly pottery. Some of the pottery was amateurish, but some was unbelievable. You could tell right away who had the talent and who was just carrying on tradition as though that was good enough. I couldn’t afford any of the really nice stuff, so I didn’t buy anything (except a small blueberry pie) up top.
There are actually 5,000 residents of the pueblos, but only about 34 live there year round. The creature comforts of the lower land are just too appealing.
The tourists all had three options for getting back down to the Visitors Center: take the bus, walk along the road, or take the original pathway used by the initial inhabitants. We chose the original pathway, of course. I figured it would be a little steep, but because we’d been told they carried water up the trail, I thought it would, at least, be manageable. Ha! I couldn’t believe just how steep it was. Rock steps were carved into the side of the cliff, and the only hand holds were those that had been dug into the sides through a thousand years of use by people who were obviously as concerned about falling as I was. But once we’d started, there was no turning back (there were people behind us).
My neck was hurting so bad on the way back to the hotel, I told the boys I was going to stop and get some tonic, which is good for tight muscles. Of course, I’d have to get a little gin or vodka to go with it. Parker programmed Lee to find us a liquor store, which he did, but it was closed. It was Sunday, so I figured New Mexico must be as backwards as Connecticut. We needed more water, so I stopped in a 7-11. As luck would have it, liquor IS sold on Sundays in New Mexico, and this 7-11 just happened to a vendor of said merchandise. I looked around for tonic and couldn’t find any, so I asked the girl behind the counter if they carry it. She said she’d never heard of it. I asked her, then what do you put your vodka in? She just laughed. I was serious! I bought some iced-tea, since I like the vodka-infused iced-tea so much, and hoped that the boys wouldn’t notice that I didn’t actually have any tonic – my original excuse for buying the vodka.
We hung out watching TV for a while, then I took Cal and Trey to the pool. They didn’t allow diving or jumping, so it wasn’t all that much fun for them. They swam for about an hour.
That’s all we did all day. We mainly stayed in our room and watched TV and played on the computer. My head and neck were killing me, so it was a nice break.
I’ve had it pointed out to me that, when we leave an area, bad things happen. The day we left the Tetons, a group of climbers were struck by lightning. Five or six of them were hospitalized and one was killed when he fell over the side. In Yellowstone, three people were attacked by bears as they slept in their tents; one was killed. At the Grand Canyon, a tourist fell 75 feet and broke a leg and a wrist. Then, on our ride into Albuquerque, a truck passed me and immediately proceeded to billow black smoke, forcing him to pull-off to the side of the road. I guess people ought to be afraid to see us leave.
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1940882027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Day 30 – Albuquerque
Miles traveled: 350
Hours on Road: 7
States covered: 2 – Arizona, New Mexico
Last night I was awakened from a sound sleep by the loudest, longest clap of thunder I’ve ever heard. There must be some geologic reason for the intensity of the lightning out here, as opposed to New England, because it’s absolutely frightening how violent and powerful it is. It’s actually one of the few things that doesn’t scare me these days (unlike the road speeds, the heights, and the switchbacks), but I can see how people who aren’t fond of lightning could be terrified by it. Our room would light up like it was the middle of the day, then this resounding boom would pound so hard it felt like it was hammering directly on the roof, and then it would continue to pummel the world as it slowly drifted away. You’d think that thunder would echo more in a place filled with hills and valleys, but the resonance out here in the land of the flat goes on and on. Even when the storm moved miles away, because there are no hills to interrupt the light, the lightning was visible and the thunder audible.
Our room at the hostel was very cute and very small. It was a hostel, so most people roomed in a community setting with bunk beds and shared a bathroom. We got a private room, and to keep the cost down, the woman in charge gave us a room for three. We had one double bed and one single bed as well as a bathroom with a sink and a shower. We also had a fan and two lamps, and that was it. Parker and I shared the larger bed while Carmine and Trey slept with a head at each end of the single bed. It worked out well enough.
I was able to fall back asleep after the storm passed, only to be awakened at 6 a.m. by a whispered, “Mom, mom, mom. I can’t sleep.” Trey has managed to wake me up way too early every single morning, except the last morning at the Kaibab Camper Village, where I threatened him if he woke me up at all. I told him to turn on the computer and keep quiet. We still ended up getting up by 7, so we went and had the free breakfast offered by the hostel. The boys are used to the giant breakfasts served in large hotels, so they were a little taken aback by the sparse servings offered here: a basket of fruit, white bread that could be toasted, and instant oatmeal were it.
After breakfast, the Littles (as I refer to Cal and Trey) played more pool in the common room while Parker played on the computer in our sleeping room. This place is a worrier’s dream. From the couch in the common room I can work on my computer, watch the Littles, keep an eye on the van in the alley, and see the door to our room directly on the other side of the van. Everything is covered!
We left by 9:30 on what we knew would be a long drive.
Our first stop was in honor of Faja (that’s what the boys call Jeff – it’s from Austin Powers: Gold Member). When you look through the photos you’ll see three boys, “Standin’ on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight to see. There’s a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford, slowin’ down to take a look at (them).”
Our next stop was the Petrified Forest National Park and the Painted Desert. We drove just the first six miles where we saw only the red desert. It would take another 22 miles (and back) to see the blue desert and some majorly petrified wood, and we didn’t feel like taking that much time. The driving we MUST do is enough at this point; any excess is most unwelcome.
I’m not too fond of New Mexico at the moment. It’s poured on us for the past three days. Just outside Zion we had hail followed by a monsoon that “occurs maybe once a summer” that flooded the souvenir shop in which we took shelter, but that passed quickly. We then had the wrath of God bear down on us in Flagstaff, flooding streets that are simply not prepared for such an onslaught. But that occurred while we slept, so no harm done. For that reason, I am not as angry with Arizona. Today, it rained the entire drive. Oh, it stopped for five minutes or so from time to time, but it was certain to start up quickly to ensure our dissatisfaction. This is a desert! Where the hell is the dry?!! And that wasn’t the worst of it. About 60 miles outside of Albuquerque, the gusts of wind got so harsh, I thought we would get blown straight to Oz. The wind would blow me slightly into the next lane, so I’d grip the wheel as hard as I could trying to counteract the push of the wind. Then it would suddenly stop blowing, but my counteraction on the wheel would continue for a second, and we’d veer off the right side of the road. I’d stop counteracting, and the wind would pick up again. Between the rain and the wind, I was near tears, and I squeezed the steering wheel so tightly, I got a pain in my shoulder.
We were unable to make our stop at the Sky City – the Acoma Pueblos. I really wanted to get that done today so we could relax tomorrow, but now we’ll have to retrace our steps going back 58 miles on Route 40. I swear, if it’s that windy again, I’m letting Parker drive. I just can’t take it!!
As we neared Albuquerque and the sun shone for a moment and the wind died down a little, we saw two waterfalls of mud and rock cascading off the cliff to the side of the road. The current state of weather here is obviously not the norm; it’s special weather, just for me – the Rain Queen.
The last part of our drive to the hotel cracked the boys up. We took a right off the highway, then we made another right, a quick left, a quick right, a quick left, a quick right, a quick left, another left, then a right. It was pretty comical.
The hotel offers not only a free breakfast but also a “social time” in the afternoon, where they supply soft drinks and chips and salsa. We arrived just in time for that. We still went out for dinner. Uncle Brian had said that New Mexico is the place to get some of the best Mexican food, and he was right. We went to El Modelo. It looked like a big warehouse and you could get only take out, but the food was amazing. It was a little too hot for the Littles, but Parker and I enjoyed it.
Now we’re just sitting in our room watching a movie. We love our relaxation time (especially when there’s a TV, because then they leave me alone).
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1931087027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
Hours on Road: 7
States covered: 2 – Arizona, New Mexico
Last night I was awakened from a sound sleep by the loudest, longest clap of thunder I’ve ever heard. There must be some geologic reason for the intensity of the lightning out here, as opposed to New England, because it’s absolutely frightening how violent and powerful it is. It’s actually one of the few things that doesn’t scare me these days (unlike the road speeds, the heights, and the switchbacks), but I can see how people who aren’t fond of lightning could be terrified by it. Our room would light up like it was the middle of the day, then this resounding boom would pound so hard it felt like it was hammering directly on the roof, and then it would continue to pummel the world as it slowly drifted away. You’d think that thunder would echo more in a place filled with hills and valleys, but the resonance out here in the land of the flat goes on and on. Even when the storm moved miles away, because there are no hills to interrupt the light, the lightning was visible and the thunder audible.
Our room at the hostel was very cute and very small. It was a hostel, so most people roomed in a community setting with bunk beds and shared a bathroom. We got a private room, and to keep the cost down, the woman in charge gave us a room for three. We had one double bed and one single bed as well as a bathroom with a sink and a shower. We also had a fan and two lamps, and that was it. Parker and I shared the larger bed while Carmine and Trey slept with a head at each end of the single bed. It worked out well enough.
I was able to fall back asleep after the storm passed, only to be awakened at 6 a.m. by a whispered, “Mom, mom, mom. I can’t sleep.” Trey has managed to wake me up way too early every single morning, except the last morning at the Kaibab Camper Village, where I threatened him if he woke me up at all. I told him to turn on the computer and keep quiet. We still ended up getting up by 7, so we went and had the free breakfast offered by the hostel. The boys are used to the giant breakfasts served in large hotels, so they were a little taken aback by the sparse servings offered here: a basket of fruit, white bread that could be toasted, and instant oatmeal were it.
After breakfast, the Littles (as I refer to Cal and Trey) played more pool in the common room while Parker played on the computer in our sleeping room. This place is a worrier’s dream. From the couch in the common room I can work on my computer, watch the Littles, keep an eye on the van in the alley, and see the door to our room directly on the other side of the van. Everything is covered!
We left by 9:30 on what we knew would be a long drive.
Our first stop was in honor of Faja (that’s what the boys call Jeff – it’s from Austin Powers: Gold Member). When you look through the photos you’ll see three boys, “Standin’ on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, such a fine sight to see. There’s a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford, slowin’ down to take a look at (them).”
Our next stop was the Petrified Forest National Park and the Painted Desert. We drove just the first six miles where we saw only the red desert. It would take another 22 miles (and back) to see the blue desert and some majorly petrified wood, and we didn’t feel like taking that much time. The driving we MUST do is enough at this point; any excess is most unwelcome.
I’m not too fond of New Mexico at the moment. It’s poured on us for the past three days. Just outside Zion we had hail followed by a monsoon that “occurs maybe once a summer” that flooded the souvenir shop in which we took shelter, but that passed quickly. We then had the wrath of God bear down on us in Flagstaff, flooding streets that are simply not prepared for such an onslaught. But that occurred while we slept, so no harm done. For that reason, I am not as angry with Arizona. Today, it rained the entire drive. Oh, it stopped for five minutes or so from time to time, but it was certain to start up quickly to ensure our dissatisfaction. This is a desert! Where the hell is the dry?!! And that wasn’t the worst of it. About 60 miles outside of Albuquerque, the gusts of wind got so harsh, I thought we would get blown straight to Oz. The wind would blow me slightly into the next lane, so I’d grip the wheel as hard as I could trying to counteract the push of the wind. Then it would suddenly stop blowing, but my counteraction on the wheel would continue for a second, and we’d veer off the right side of the road. I’d stop counteracting, and the wind would pick up again. Between the rain and the wind, I was near tears, and I squeezed the steering wheel so tightly, I got a pain in my shoulder.
We were unable to make our stop at the Sky City – the Acoma Pueblos. I really wanted to get that done today so we could relax tomorrow, but now we’ll have to retrace our steps going back 58 miles on Route 40. I swear, if it’s that windy again, I’m letting Parker drive. I just can’t take it!!
As we neared Albuquerque and the sun shone for a moment and the wind died down a little, we saw two waterfalls of mud and rock cascading off the cliff to the side of the road. The current state of weather here is obviously not the norm; it’s special weather, just for me – the Rain Queen.
The last part of our drive to the hotel cracked the boys up. We took a right off the highway, then we made another right, a quick left, a quick right, a quick left, a quick right, a quick left, another left, then a right. It was pretty comical.
The hotel offers not only a free breakfast but also a “social time” in the afternoon, where they supply soft drinks and chips and salsa. We arrived just in time for that. We still went out for dinner. Uncle Brian had said that New Mexico is the place to get some of the best Mexican food, and he was right. We went to El Modelo. It looked like a big warehouse and you could get only take out, but the food was amazing. It was a little too hot for the Littles, but Parker and I enjoyed it.
Now we’re just sitting in our room watching a movie. We love our relaxation time (especially when there’s a TV, because then they leave me alone).
For corresponding photos, go to:
http://www5.snapfish.com/snapfish/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1931087027/a=2740108027_2740108027/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/
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