Words from The Crone

After my father-in-law died we found a suitcase full of letters and notes dating back over a hundred years. Being a genealogy buff I dutifully took the suitcase home and began reading. None of them were very useful or enlightening. They all started out with salutations like “Dear Cousin,” or “My dearest friend.” They were all signed in a like manner with “Fondly, your uncle,” or “With love, your beloved.” Well, nothing to be gleaned there. The contents were as dry as my mouth when I have been mouth breathing all night, filled with niceties and affectionate sayings, but nothing of substance and/or news of any kind. Since some of them dated back to 1851 one would have thought a mention or two of the Civil War would have crept into them. Not. Nary a word. Just sicky sweet platitudes and not even a hint of gossip.

Well, I have decided that if I am going to blog on our great American road trip (GART) I would at least put in the nasty messy stuff along with the good and the glorious. Really, who would believe that three adults spending 24/7 with each other in either a cramped van or a double hotel room a great deal of the time would be without any grumpiness, contention, or discord? I didn’t think you would buy that.

It started this morning, the nastiness. K, our adult daughter, with ADD, Executive Function Syndrome, and narcolepsy was still putt-zing along at our announced departure time of 8am. R and our neighbor were out by the car chatting and I sat on the porch fuming. Couldn’t she just once be on time? And, so I would go in periodically, announce the time, and ask how she was doing. This only frustrated her, caused her to lose focus, and consequently be later and later. Finally, as she was tossing her way too many bags into the car we were a decibel or two below screaming at each other. Her to leave her alone (how typically daughterly) and I telling her she needed to move along and get in the car so we could finally leave (how typically motherly). It was not pretty. I am sure we both wanted to kill each other.

Our bewildered neighbor had his camera and wanted to take a picture of the three of us as we departed. He asked us to pose and K shouted a very nasty sentence that included a word that starts with “F” and got into the car. Our neighbor smiled weakly, waved, backed away, told us to have a good trip, and ran into his house. R and I climbed into the car and the argument continued with me threatening to leave K at home if this was going to be the start of everyday on our much anticipated vacation, and K trying to tell us how hard it was for her to get ready and to plan and execute the tasks necessary to be ready on time. We finally settled down, talked more calmly and sanely about the issues and began to sort out how we might avoid this on our trip. We left an hour later than I had planned. I realized that I need to relax a bit and K realized that “a little late” didn’t mean 60 minutes.

By lunchtime we had settled in and found a lovely rest stop called “South Mountain” in Maryland, and made our picnic lunches – the norm for our trip. It was delightful and we enjoyed our half-hour break. We rotated through the driving shifts except that K’s narcolepsy kicked in early on during her shift and R and I finished up the driving.

It was all interstate and nothing to write home about as they say. We drove 484 miles this first day to Elyria, Ohio over a period of nine and half hours. It wasn’t brutal with us all sharing the load, and tomorrow will be a somewhat shorter jaunt. The weather was mild with clear skies. All in all it was a good beginning, with one hell of a start.

Here were are 25 hours and 45 minutes before launch. Technically. In all of my 30 plus years of traveling with my soulmate R and my daughter K, we have actually left at our designated time once. But, in all cases we were within the hour so that is hardly anything to worry about. We’ll just arrive in Elyria, Ohio closer to the dinner hour. No big deal, only a few grumbling tummies.

What is a big deal is TODAY. I am working a plethora of lists to be as certain as possible that whatever it is we will forget it will not be major. You know that everyone always leaves something behind. Good thing we have stores along our route. A fact that, in the frenzy, we all seem to forget. I’ve even heard tell that they might even sell your favorite brand of toothpaste or mouthwash should that be what you left behind. And if not, well add that to another adventure in your life – a new minty mouthy flavor.

Lists are the bane of some folks existence. They are my existence. Were it not for my lists I think I would be lost in a mess of what to do next and what not to do next or what to never do. I even have a list of my to do-s which I call my “ToDo” list. For our trip I am checking our “Things to do before we leave” list and adding to it every hour. It now contains over 40 items. The good news is that all but about a dozen are now checked off. This list is the one that reminds you to water the plants, stop the paper, turn off the water, turn down the thermostat stuff. Important stuff.

My second list is “Things to bring on the trip” and this one is critical to leaving behind only nonsense stuff or stuff we wouldn’t have used anyway. This list has things like phone chargers, laptop, medications, list of medications in case we wind up in a hospital. It also includes items such as my Nook, cameras, phones, camcorder, books, puzzles, electronics, Trivial pursuit cards, cooler, bags, throws, pillows, etc. etc. etc. This list even has a sub-list of things that we must not forget to pack for the dog’s visit to the pet sitter. His list is almost as long as any of our lists. I never realized how much a seven-pound dog needs to be comfortable for 40 days – blanket, treats, crate, bowls, meat, kibble, toys, medicine, carrier, leash, etc. etc. etc.

Another list I have is one that contains all the clothes and accessories I will bring, jeans, jumpers, blouses, tee-shirts, shoes, slacks, poncho, jackets, bras, you get the idea. It also includes items like jewelry, toothbrush, comb, perfume. I write it all down. Then, when I get home I check it off again to see what I might have left behind for someone else to discover. We always leave something somewhere. Once it was R’s bathrobe, once it was a black comb. Once it was my favorite throw left at a Hilton Hotel – they were great. They found it and shipped it back to me. Go Hilton!

Then there is the list of food we need to buy/pack. We are going to picnic our way to California stopping at parks and rest areas and making our sandwiches as we go. K thinks we’ll be pretty sick of bologna sandwiches after about a week. And, since I no longer eat meat or poultry, I might eventually throw up over a tuna sandwich or a cheese and tomato creation. Cottage cheese might lose its allure, and only God knows if we’ll survive this way, but we will make the attempt. My prayer is that we remember that we are spending hours in a car travelling and not using many calories. It would not be good to arrive home 20 lbs. heavier than when we left. We already have some extra calories around our waists in case we get stuck in a snow-storm in the car for days.

The final list I’ll be checking daily is our itinerary. We’ll be following our friend “Gypsy” (our GPS), but just to be sure we know where we are going we have it all written down in an excel spreadsheet list and in a AAA Trip-Tik book (all 400 pages of it). If we ain’t where that list, or the AAA book, says we should be on any given day, then we are lost. God help us all.

It just wasn’t enough that we had a 2.0 earthquake last Tuesday, right God? Okay, okay, I know a 2.0 is peanuts to those folks who have experienced the big 6.0 to 7.+ shakers, but it was a quake nonetheless. For those who have never experienced a quake it was a big, big deal. And, so we calmed ourselves and went about our daily life partaking of that fabulous daily bread you supply.

Well, God, now enough is enough. You sent us a hurricane name Irene too? And then, a tornado strong enough to rip the roof off some poor soul’s house. All in five days? Really, do you not have something better to do with your time. You might try convincing some of those rich folks to help the poor, you know. Or, maybe you could find a way to straighten out that mess in Washington, DC. Those poor political wretches have lost their minds. Maybe you could topple all the tyrants and give nice, honest, hardworking people around the world democracy. And, maybe you could end war. That would be terrific. I’d even give up a bit of my personal choice for that one. And to make matters worse, I was trying to finish up umpty-ump bulletins and a newsletter before I go on our trip and then pack and then get ready for Irene and then be terrorized by a tornado warning. This is sheer insanity. Please stop it.

There is one favor I would like to ask, however. In your busy-ness of playing with your creation, could you please keep us safe on our GART. GART, you know, Great American Road Trip. Don’t you remember I told you about this months ago when we were scouring inns and hotels for a place to rest our weary bodies at night? You don’t? Okay, just read about it on my blog, you remember that don’t you? Good. So, please just see that we keep peace among ourselves and really enjoy this trip. Thanks.

And, just one more bigger favor. Our van, “Minnie” has 198,677 miles on her tired frame. She has been a trouper for the past eleven years. We took her in to our mechanic who tuned her up and declared her sound, but I would really appreciate it if you would please be sure that she hums along with us, up and down those purple mountain majesty roads, across the fruited plains, through amber waves of grain. I know you will do it if you love me. And, besides it will make up for this week’s insanity which, in my humble opinion, is the least you can do. Just saying. Thanks.

At 1:54:30pm the building started to shake. I turned my cohort in the office and said, “We’re having an earthquake.” In Delaware, come on. As absurd as it was, there we were in the middle of an earthquake. I then remembered that I had been told just the week before that the building we were in wasn’t built on a foundation, only dirt. “We have to leave the building,” I said. And then, the shaking stopped. A sigh of relief slipped past my tense lips.

But, not for long. Another bit of shaking started and then I really knew we had to get out of the building before it fell down. But Z and I just looked at each other as if we humans had turned to stone who couldn’t move. Finally, I stood up and went to grab my purse and run when the shaking stopped again. This time for good.

OMG, we just had an earthquake, or the building was about to collapse for no good reason. I called the organist over in the church to verify that it was wider than our building. It was. The organist wisely left the building as he thought it unhealthy to have three stories worth of bricks over his head while the earth did a bit of shaking. Calls began to come into the office all with the same question, “Did you feel the earthquake?”

When we had all listened to the news and settled down a bit, I recalled the other earthquake I experienced. I think I was about ten and we were living in California. I was in the sunroom on the first floor and my mom was on the second floor. The house began to shake and things started moving off the shelves. “Mooommmmmyyy,” I yelled as I ran from the sunroom into the living room and headed for the stairs. My mom was by now flying down the stairs into the living room where she grabbed me and ran outside. It was enough of an earthquake to scare the living daylights out of me and one I never wanted to experience again.

Today’s earthquake was longer however, but not as scary. I mean really, I now had experience and sort of knew what to expect. I at least had an inkling it was an earthquake before I thought the building was falling apart. When the dust had settled Z went outside to inspect the building for any new cracks. She reported that there were so many cracks she couldn’t tell the new from the old. At least it is still standing.

So, where were you when you felt the earthquake? Home, school, work, on the road, in the garden?? Folks I’ve talked to who were outside didn’t seem to feel it as much as those of us in the building who saw things moving. My daughter was getting out of a cab and said she felt a little unsteady and dizzy but didn’t quite know what it was. My younger daughter was napping and said that the wall was banging on her bed which is tucked into a corner.

At home, my R said he watched our walls move one-half inch and sway back and forth. Our grandfather clock’s chimes banged together as the pendulum swung (swang?) more than it would have naturally until it finally stopped at 1:54:30pm. We took a picture of it for posterity, but more than likely it will end up in a pile of other un-scanned, unframed, and un-album-ed photos we have. Cracks appeared in the wall that we had had repaired over a year ago. But, thankfully, no one was hurt, no dishes crashed to the floor, and even the dog came through it unscathed.

We now know that it was a 5.8 quake outside of Richmond, Virginia and that it is highly unlikely, yea even rare, to have an earthquake in this part of the country. Hear tell folks in California are wondering what all the fuss is about. Wonder what’s next? Well, don’t know about you, but we are hunkering down waiting for Hurricane Irene to arrive. Ah me, all in a week’s life in the fast lane.

The hummingbird feeder is hung in such a manner that we can see it from several places in our great room. The best viewing however, is from the dining room table and we have quite a show at each of our meals. Although it is a hummingbird feeder, we actually have four species that frequent the watering hole. There are, of course, the hummingbirds (HB), but there are also finches, butterflies, and believe it or not, wasps.

To the best of our ability to determine sex, we have two female HBs and two males. There is one female though who has staked out the territory and actually stands silent guard over her domain, perching on either the top of the swing supports, or the top of the feeder hanger. Whenever another HB approaches she goes on the attack and runs them off. Well, at least she does that with the males. When a female approaches she is just as likely to share a bit of her sugary largess, but only for a wee bit of time. I surmise however, that when she is off roaming the countryside the males dive in for their long inhale of this sweet nectar. None of them appear to be starving.

When a finch arrives for a slog or two, the HB approaches and hovers about a foot away as if waiting for this larger adversary to go away. Once or twice an HB has dive-bombed at the finch as if to say, “get out of my place.” The finch merely turns his head and stares at this puny foe and then continues to sup. Once however, we did see our hummer and our finch actually enjoying a meal together, one on each side of the feeder. It was peaceable kingdom time.

Butterflies and wasps usually dine at separate times and without an HB in sight. It is as if they wait until they know those aggressive little ones are otherwise occupied playing bridge or attending church. And so, each in his own turn and time, partake of our offerings and leave with bellies full.

But, yesterday, our lady HB and a lone wasp had a run in. Minding her own business the wasp was happily enjoying breakfast. Along came Ms. Hummer intent on having a solitary sip of sustenance. First the HB came at the wasp. Then the wasp went after the hummer. Then they danced around after each other in a mad frenetic circle, each trying to drive the other away. We watched this war dance for several minutes wondering who would be the victor. Then, as if they were spent from their antics, each one picked a perch and they lapped up breakfast together. Ah, more peaceable kingdom. Sated and ready for the day, they buzzed each other one more time and flew off to their respective homes. She for a trip to the mall, he to watch a baseball game.

Hummingbirds & wasps, butterflies & finches, a delightful mix of God’s critters giving us an amusing show each day. Life is good!

Full of resolve we set off to Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge to get our Senior park passes. For those of you who don’t know what that is, the park services now charge fees to enter the parks and you can buy one for $80 for the year, or pay some entrance fee at each place. However, as a reward for getting wrinkles and having your entire body slowly sink down to the ground, they have a Senior passes. Each one costs only $10 and is good for as long as you can crawl into the park. Not a bad deal. We called to be sure we could get ours at Prime Hook, they said “Yes.”

Settled into the van we set the GPS to Prime Hook and off we went. Twenty miles later we missed the turn off road and found ourselves at the beach, literally. We think it was Broadkill beach, but we’re not sure. I reset the GPS, we turned around, and tried it one more time. This time we found the road and also discovered why we missed it the first time. The road sign was set back so far from the corner that there was no way anyone could have seen it coming the other way. You bad, DelDot!

A nice gentleman behind the desk asked if he could help us. We told him we were there for Senior passes, he got out a locked strongbox, opened it, and politely told us there were no passes to be had. How can this be? We just called, they said they had them. Murphy strikes again. Now what? He called Bombay Hook Wildlife Refuge (another 40 miles away) to see if they had them. They did. Back in the van, off to Bombay Hook. The good news – we got to see a part of Delaware we had never seen before. Got to look for the blessings in those downer situations.

Armed with our passes we headed back down the peninsula to finish our errands. Being 2:15 p.m. we stopped for sustenance until our early dinner at 5:30 pm. I had an appointment at 4 p.m. and consequently the only other errand we were able to complete was a stop at the Jockey store for our undies. The other two or three planned errands will have to wait another day.

And so, the moral (according to me) of this story is that you really shouldn’t wait until the last minute to put it all together. Let they who are “P’s” take heed. You never know when you will only accomplish half of what you intended in any given day and when you have a deadline there ain’t no putting in another day here or there!

There is a personality profile test from at least the 1990’s called the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. It was developed by a person named Isabel Briggs Myers. This profile supposedly tells you your psychological type by reporting on your preferences on four scales. After answering an unending stream of questions you end up with four letters of the alphabet representing your preferences because, after all, you answered all the questions, not somebody else. At any rate one letter tells you how your prefer to focus your attention, the other tells you how you prefer to take in information, the third letter tells you how you prefer to make decisions, and the last letter tells you how you prefer to orient yourself to the external world. The bottom line here is that you use your preferences to develop your behaviors and attitude characteristics.

I’m not going to get into the intricacies of this MBTI, except to say that the one with the letter “P” puts everything off to the very last minute. Everyone in my family is a “P” and if it wasn’t for the fact that I have developed a lot of “J” tendencies (those are the people who plan and execute tasks ahead and are very organized) our life would be chaos. Normally, like a rubber band, we stretch back and forth between each other’s tendencies and life manages to go on.

However, we are getting ready for our GART (great American road trip) to California and we leave in 15 days. “P” won’t work now. We simply cannot put everything off to the two days before we leave. I have done all of the planning as far as hotel rooms and event reservations are concerned so I know we’ll have a place to put our heads on a pillow at night. I know that if we want to tour Hoover Dam or the Cliff Palace at Mesa Verde we will have a reservation. We have the AAA Trip-Tik (all 400 plus pages of it) and a AAA tour book of each state our wheels will touch. I have talked to a myriad of medical people so K has all the meds she needs to stay awake and functioning (she has narcolepsy), and R has checked all our meds and made sure we have a goodly supply to keep us cranking and purring along. K has packaged her daily meds in “weekly” bags so I can dole them out as needed and she won’t forget. R had the car checked over and tuned up. So far, so good.

Now we are down to those itty-gritty details that can wreak havoc not only at the last minute, but if, God forbid, they are forgotten all together. Every time I mention something like we need to buy some new underwear or get our senior park pass at the nearby park I get “we’ll do that later.” When I mention that we should start marshalling our gear so we don’t forget something I get, “Not now, it’s too early.” I don’t have much hair left on my head, but I am seriously considering pulling some of it out over this. What are they thinking? Before you know it will be the day before we are leaving and King Chaos will bring on the reign of yelling and screaming and rushing about in a frothy frenzy. We’ll be 100 miles from home reciting a litany of all the things we forgot. I am already crazy just thinking about it.

So, hauling up all my “J” tendencies, we are off today to get that park pass and buy underwear. We are off today to bring the suitcases home and start packing. We are off today to get our foldable table to set up in the living room to marshal all the camera gear, reading gear, games, throws, camcorders, batteries, chargers, etc. that we can’t forget. K has already requested that I help her pack her suitcase the weekend before we leave – Yeah, for her – with her ADD this is a very good idea. Please, please God let this work. We are creeping up on 14 days left now. I better go and upgrade the maps in my GPS. Can’t let a moment slip by without making some progress. More later.

My Prince has arrived! Actually he entered our lives on August 5, 2002 as a 3.5 pound ball of white fluff and full of piss and vinegar. He was actually quite quiet on the trip home from Massachusetts to Delaware, and has remained a trouper of a traveler ever since. He is a Maltese and they have hair, not fur, so they don’t shed which is great. They weigh 4-6 pounds although ours has packed on some pounds over the years and now totes a bit over seven pounds.

I remember the day I told R that I wanted to get a small dog. We hadn’t had a dog, or cat (that’s another story) for a couple of years and I was feeling pet deprived. Now, R, being the owner of several golden retrievers at one time or another, didn’t have a very high opinion of a small dog. He actually said he didn’t want a yapping small dog around. The smallest dogs we’d ever had together was a Lhasa Apso weighing in at about 18 pounds. I was talking a tiny 4-6 pounder here. I pouted. I pouted some more. He caved.

I called my DD#1 who referred me to a Maltese breeder (I had done my research and had decided on that breed). The breeder told me what wonderful little dogs they were and asked what sex I wanted. I had a bad experience with a male dog so I opted for a female. “Oh, no,” she said. “You want a male. They will be your companion and be loyal and love you to pieces.” Um, er, well, I really thought a female would be better since they usually don’t go around lifting her leg and marking everything in sight. The breeder sighed and said, “You know, they call a girl dog ‘Bitch’ for a reason.” Enough said, we got a male.

And so, the love affair began. Prince stole R’s heart from the very beginning. It got to a point where we were arguing over whose lap he would sit on at night while we watched TV or who would take him out for a walk. It was not pretty. But, we’ve adjusted and so has Prince, we generally share our times together and he knows that he should be with me when I am home!

The Maltese is a breed that goes back over 3,000 years from the Island of Malta (of course) and they were bred to be lap dogs. If you ever go to the art museum and see portraits of ladies with small white dogs, those are Maltese. They were also used on the bed at night as a foot warmer. And, true to form, Prince’s favorite places are on someone’s lap and at the foot of our bed (on the bed, not the floor). Dang that DNA, it sure works.

R says Prince is the smartest dog he has ever owned and I quite agree. He seems to understand a vocabulary of over 200 words and phrases and we are beginning to think he has learned to spell too! He takes orders exceptionally well when he wants to, and stubbornly does his own thing when he doesn’t. His only real bad habit is that he loves to chew up Kleenex if you leave them within his reach, and as for being a yapping little dog, naw, but he does bark up a storm when someone comes to the door. He has also learned that if he barks long enough and loud enough at R he’ll get a treat. Spoiled? You bet. But we love him to pieces and after nine years with him, wouldn’t trade him in for a truckload of any other kind of dog. We’ve had Prince for nine years now, and they say these wonderful little dogs can live to be around twenty years-old – we sure hope so!