Apologies to Jess and Mike for the misspellings and use of the wrong words. I was tired... :P
That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
One of our greatest pleasures when we lived in Minnesota was going to the Renaissance Festival and I was lucky enough to be there for opening day this year. We got there for "Opening Gate," that is when a lot of the characters are lining the upper ramparts of the castle before the gate opens to let in all the guests. The characters hurl insults or ribald comments down to the guests, and street entertainers walk amongst the crowds.
Isn't this the most precious thing you've every seen? This little fairy princess was standing in the crowd with her parents, waiting to get in. I couldn't resist taking her picture (with her parent's permission of course.)
The Bad
I can't remember this fella's name, but he was pretty grubby looking, and his soul purpose was to make fun of people passing by. He was hysterical. There was a young lady with a camera walking by, staring at him. He yelled out, "Whaddya you lookin' at!" and proceeded to criticize her (bleached) blonde hair, her tight shorts, her halter top, everything he could. She tried to keep up with him, but he got the best of her every time.
Actually, I wish I'd gotten a better close up of this guy's face. It was so lined with deep fissures he almost looked like he was carved out of wood. It was a marvelous face! He and his wife make hats of all kinds - fools caps, wizard's hats and great, big dashing Musketeer type hats with feathers. He was fascinating to talk to and we spend a lovely 15 minutes together.Sunday, August 29, 2010
What I Did On My Summer Vacation - Part I
Relaxing after my two day drive was my first priority when I got to Minnesota. Jessica suggested we go to Ft. Snelling beach (Snelling Lake - an offshoot of the Minnesota River) and "chillax." It was a perfect suggestion. We arrived before the crowd and had the beach all to ourselves. I insisted on going into the lake and managed to dip down to my neck before I couldn't breathe anymore for the cold!
There are great collections of water lillies on either side of the beach area and I couldn't resist taking my camera and capturing images of the lillies and other plant life.
Friday, August 27, 2010
On the Road Again: A Travelogue
I’m back home in western New York after a long and grueling solitary 900 mile drive across five states, not counting the 20 miles of Minnesota and 8 miles of New York.
Wisconsin is the crown jewel of travel to the upper Midwest. It has by far the most interesting landscape, with rolling hills, forested bluffs, towering rock formations and scenic rivers. A lovely area called The Dells is a weekend mecca for Chicagoans and folks from the Twin Cities (Minneapolis and St. Paul) alike. Filled with tourist trap resorts, it still redeems itself with the “duck boat” rides through the glacial rock formations. A must see if you’re ever passing through.
It’s interesting to me how subtly different the upper Midwest states are from each other. If the Midwest is the bread basket of the world, as we learned in school, then the upper Midwest is the corn bread basket. As far as the eye can see, corn fields stretch to the horizon in Illinois, Indiana and Ohio. Western Illinois is quite pretty, in fact: if you like corn. Contrary to popular opinion, Illinois is more than just Chicago, just as New York is more than New York City. I’m always amazed at the people who think I run over to New York City to shop every week or so. I guess they just assume that New York is wall to wall concrete.
The return trip through Illinois was uneventful, if you call four traffic back-ups uneventful. They’re more of a nuisance than an event. And Chicago really doesn’t count because it’s always backed up, and always under construction. They might have a nice stretch of road if they ever finish it.
Northern Indiana, once you get past the Chicago suburbs and congestion, is Amish country. The Amish make an industry of tourism in Indiana. “Quilt” gardens are a major attraction in these towns. Town names in Indiana fascinate me. I’ve always wanted to stop at places like Nappanee, Elkhart, Mishawaka and Wakarusa. My all time favorite, however, is Shipshewana. Every time I see the name I break into a big smile and sing the name of the town to the phrase “just a wanna” from Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper – Ship-she-wana, Ship-she-wana…
Ohio, what can I say about Ohio. Ohio is one big speed trap, five hours of boredom, the last leg of a long trip. I used to live in Ohio. It’s a lovely state, filled with fun and interesting sites and friendly people, but I find it necessary to divide Ohio into two hour segments to get myself through it. It’s two hours from Ripley to Cleveland, two hours from Cleveland to Toledo, and one hour from Toledo to the Indiana line. Those times aren’t terribly accurate, but they work for me. Admittedly, Cleveland is fun with its 35 mph curves and close up view of downtown. It’s also my last glimpse (or first, depending on the direction) of Lake Erie.
Because it is two hours from Ripley to Cleveland, I sort of bypass Pennsylvania in my mind. The 45 miles of I-90 are divided into 20 miles to Erie, 25 miles to the Ohio line; an afterthought really. But don’t feel badly Pennsylvania. I spend a lot of time on Peach Street lately. It’s almost my second home. Did I mention, it’s good to be home again?
I’m back home in western New York after a long and grueling solitary 900 mile drive across five states, not counting the 20 miles of Minnesota and 8 miles of New York.
Wisconsin is the crown jewel of travel to the upper Midwest. It has by far the most interesting landscape, with rolling hills, forested bluffs, towering rock formations and scenic rivers. A lovely area called The Dells is a weekend mecca for Chicagoans and folks from the Twin Cities (Minneapolis and St. Paul) alike. Filled with tourist trap resorts, it still redeems itself with the “duck boat” rides through the glacial rock formations. A must see if you’re ever passing through.
It’s interesting to me how subtly different the upper Midwest states are from each other. If the Midwest is the bread basket of the world, as we learned in school, then the upper Midwest is the corn bread basket. As far as the eye can see, corn fields stretch to the horizon in Illinois, Indiana and Ohio. Western Illinois is quite pretty, in fact: if you like corn. Contrary to popular opinion, Illinois is more than just Chicago, just as New York is more than New York City. I’m always amazed at the people who think I run over to New York City to shop every week or so. I guess they just assume that New York is wall to wall concrete.
The return trip through Illinois was uneventful, if you call four traffic back-ups uneventful. They’re more of a nuisance than an event. And Chicago really doesn’t count because it’s always backed up, and always under construction. They might have a nice stretch of road if they ever finish it.
Northern Indiana, once you get past the Chicago suburbs and congestion, is Amish country. The Amish make an industry of tourism in Indiana. “Quilt” gardens are a major attraction in these towns. Town names in Indiana fascinate me. I’ve always wanted to stop at places like Nappanee, Elkhart, Mishawaka and Wakarusa. My all time favorite, however, is Shipshewana. Every time I see the name I break into a big smile and sing the name of the town to the phrase “just a wanna” from Girls Just Wanna Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper – Ship-she-wana, Ship-she-wana…
Ohio, what can I say about Ohio. Ohio is one big speed trap, five hours of boredom, the last leg of a long trip. I used to live in Ohio. It’s a lovely state, filled with fun and interesting sites and friendly people, but I find it necessary to divide Ohio into two hour segments to get myself through it. It’s two hours from Ripley to Cleveland, two hours from Cleveland to Toledo, and one hour from Toledo to the Indiana line. Those times aren’t terribly accurate, but they work for me. Admittedly, Cleveland is fun with its 35 mph curves and close up view of downtown. It’s also my last glimpse (or first, depending on the direction) of Lake Erie.
Because it is two hours from Ripley to Cleveland, I sort of bypass Pennsylvania in my mind. The 45 miles of I-90 are divided into 20 miles to Erie, 25 miles to the Ohio line; an afterthought really. But don’t feel badly Pennsylvania. I spend a lot of time on Peach Street lately. It’s almost my second home. Did I mention, it’s good to be home again?
Monday, August 16, 2010
That’s a Big 10-4
I’m sitting in St. Paul, Minnesota as I write this, visiting my son and daughter. It’s not the first time I’ve made the 900-mile drive between the Twin Cities and Ripley by myself and it’s always an adventure.
I left Ripley at the crack of 9:30 a.m. on Thursday last week and made it as far as Peach Street in Erie for a rest stop. Leaving home always makes me nervous. At 10:30 I was back on the road, nerves under control and the radio blaring.
I have a CB radio in my car and I usually have it turned on when I’m going a distance. There isn’t as much chatter on the radio as I remember in years past. Mostly it’s just drivers giving directions or shouting a hello to other drivers they know. But then, you also have the drivers who give the profession a bad name; you know the ones, lots of cussing and swearing, lots of smut talk. Quite often they’re sitting in truck stops, bored, and trying to get a rise out of anyone listening.
Until I met my husband, who drove truck for 40+ years before retiring, I assumed most truckers were stereotypical beer- swilling, cigar smoking, foul-mouthed louts. It just ain’t so. Most of the men and women out there are just hard working folks, trying to get from Point A to Point B in the fastest time possible in order to make a living. Many truck drivers resent the “four-wheelers” on the road and roundly abuse their stupidity. I have to agree. You’d be amazed at the stupid things people do when they’re on the open road; like pulling out in front of 18-wheelers because “trucks have airbrakes, they can stop on a dime.” A 40-ton truck and trailer, airbrakes or not, is not going to stop quickly, and cutting a truck off is tantamount to a death wish.
CBers have a language all their own. Everybody knows 10-4, an answer in the affirmative. A “bear in the middle shootin’ east bounders,” is a highway patrolman sitting in the median, using radar aimed at east bound traffic. A “county mountie” is a county sheriff. “Bear bait” are vehicles travelling at a high rate of speed, bound to attract the attention of the highway patrol, thereby allowing the trucks to “hammer down” undisturbed. Listening in on the CB is a great way to find out where all the speed traps are, not that I would ever speed…. It also alerts you to traffic backups and construction work.
Sadly, accidents occur and the truckers let each other know when there has been one, such as the one I passed just west of Cleveland. In graphic detail, I could hear them relaying the fatality that occurred in the multi-car crash on I-90. Having seen the vehicle in question for myself, there was no doubt in my mind that the driver had gone on to a better place. It shook me up for a lot of miles, making me more alert and cautious.
Any vehicle can be an instrument of death, but an 80,000 pound diesel and trailer deserve some respect. To all the professional drivers out there, you have mine. Be safe out there.
I’m sitting in St. Paul, Minnesota as I write this, visiting my son and daughter. It’s not the first time I’ve made the 900-mile drive between the Twin Cities and Ripley by myself and it’s always an adventure.
I left Ripley at the crack of 9:30 a.m. on Thursday last week and made it as far as Peach Street in Erie for a rest stop. Leaving home always makes me nervous. At 10:30 I was back on the road, nerves under control and the radio blaring.
I have a CB radio in my car and I usually have it turned on when I’m going a distance. There isn’t as much chatter on the radio as I remember in years past. Mostly it’s just drivers giving directions or shouting a hello to other drivers they know. But then, you also have the drivers who give the profession a bad name; you know the ones, lots of cussing and swearing, lots of smut talk. Quite often they’re sitting in truck stops, bored, and trying to get a rise out of anyone listening.
Until I met my husband, who drove truck for 40+ years before retiring, I assumed most truckers were stereotypical beer- swilling, cigar smoking, foul-mouthed louts. It just ain’t so. Most of the men and women out there are just hard working folks, trying to get from Point A to Point B in the fastest time possible in order to make a living. Many truck drivers resent the “four-wheelers” on the road and roundly abuse their stupidity. I have to agree. You’d be amazed at the stupid things people do when they’re on the open road; like pulling out in front of 18-wheelers because “trucks have airbrakes, they can stop on a dime.” A 40-ton truck and trailer, airbrakes or not, is not going to stop quickly, and cutting a truck off is tantamount to a death wish.
CBers have a language all their own. Everybody knows 10-4, an answer in the affirmative. A “bear in the middle shootin’ east bounders,” is a highway patrolman sitting in the median, using radar aimed at east bound traffic. A “county mountie” is a county sheriff. “Bear bait” are vehicles travelling at a high rate of speed, bound to attract the attention of the highway patrol, thereby allowing the trucks to “hammer down” undisturbed. Listening in on the CB is a great way to find out where all the speed traps are, not that I would ever speed…. It also alerts you to traffic backups and construction work.
Sadly, accidents occur and the truckers let each other know when there has been one, such as the one I passed just west of Cleveland. In graphic detail, I could hear them relaying the fatality that occurred in the multi-car crash on I-90. Having seen the vehicle in question for myself, there was no doubt in my mind that the driver had gone on to a better place. It shook me up for a lot of miles, making me more alert and cautious.
Any vehicle can be an instrument of death, but an 80,000 pound diesel and trailer deserve some respect. To all the professional drivers out there, you have mine. Be safe out there.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside.
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown,
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down.
I wanted a swing in the large maple tree out back. I've always romanticized about a garden swing; gliding through the air in a lovely old fashioned gauzy dress, billowing out around me. I finally have the swing. The dress will have to wait awhile longer.
I wanted a swing in the large maple tree out back. I've always romanticized about a garden swing; gliding through the air in a lovely old fashioned gauzy dress, billowing out around me. I finally have the swing. The dress will have to wait awhile longer.
We found a sturdy piece of wood in the garage, which I painted blue and rubbed, making it look rather antique. Then I painted the flowers on it. Bob varnished it and drilled the holes. I'm not particularly thrilled with the knots holding the rope on, but the important thing is, I have a swing! It's quite lovely, and drifting back and forth in the garden, watching the birds and sky, is very therapeutic.
A closer view: 
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