I'm Back

I haven’t written/blogged since January.  It’s been a long dry spell.  But now I’m back by popular demand.  Actually, I’m not particularly popular and there is no discernible demand, but I’m back nevertheless. It was a rough winter and spring.

Over the course of the last seven months, within our family of four there have been five MRIs, a spinal tap, EKG, treadmill test, CT scan, three nights in the hospital, lots of blood work, and an increase in migraines among all three of us women.  All of this to be assured that we are all perfectly healthy and everything was essentially a false alarm. Of course, the one daughter who didn’t have migraines now does, but she’s seen the good doctor and is medicated.

Zippy as "Agent Z" a la Phineas and Ferb; Zippy ready for Cinco de Mayo!

Then poor little Zippy (the dog) had to be put to sleep – a combination of pain in his hips, a serious heart murmur and highly irregular heartbeat.  It is always difficult, if not devastating, to say goodbye to a little buddy. I miss him every time I walk in the house or come down the stairs and he’s not there to greet me.  We still keep his sombrero and serape on the sideboard in the kitchen.

We went to a California for a lovely wedding, and I promptly got a rotavirus (think GI horror) and missed everything.  GI viruses are usually 24-48 hours, and the worst of it was, and I made it home on the flight okay. But somehow it hung-on mildly for another 6+ weeks; I’d think I was better, but then I wasn’t.  So finally I did nothing for about two weeks and finally kicked it.  Must be getting old.

Meanwhile, after my parents died, my sister and I rented-out their house, and the tenants were there for eight years.  We thought things were good. But once they left and we got in there, we found:  7 broken windows (apparently the teenage boy hit golf balls against the house); 2 broken shower enclosures; BB holes in the front door windows; lots of cheesy peel-n-stick shabby chic wallpaper which damaged both wood and fireplace surfaces; broken ceiling fans; fire alarms and smoke detectors missing; broken door hardware; carpeting pretty much destroyed, and they had even pulled up the carpet in the family room and were living on the concrete. Plus the washer and dryer, refrigerator, microwave and cook-top all had to be replaced. We don’t think they had ever cleaned up the dog poop in the back yard.  So we spent over a month working with someone getting the house repaired and then had to re-rent.  That was basically a good two months of constant decisions and stress.  No wonder it then took me 6 weeks to kick the rotavirus.

Being done with it is good. Very good!

But by mid-may our youngest was graduated from college (Yay!) and by mid-June things were pretty even-keel. We even considered going into New York for the fireworks for July 4^th; we eventually tossed that idea because if we wanted to find a place on land to watch, it would be just too long and hot and expensive with a hotel, and lots of traffic.  Then we considered a dinner cruise up the river (Hudson River? East River? Who knows?) to see the fireworks; it sounded good until we got a serious look at the cost. Forget that.  We chose to be satisfied with Connecticut.

So, there was to be the Hartford Symphony and Master Chorale at Bushnell Park in downtown Hartford, plus booths, a bandstand and food trucks.  It was advertised it as the biggest firework show in Connecticut; surely not quite the NYC or Boston shows, but we were confident Connecticut could pull it off. As the every-forward-thinking planner, I even had a reservation for parking just a couple blocks from all the fun.  Of course, there was the possibility of rain, but we chose to be optimistic.  We chose wrong.

We got there around 5:30pm to get food and enjoy the bandstand.  The HSO concert would be at 7:30 and the fireworks at 9.  All good. I got setup and comfy with the lawn chairs and hubby went to get food.  I kid you not, in less than ten minutes it has started with a heavy sprinkle and within another two minutes we had a full-on downpour complete with lightning and thunder.  At this point about a third of the people left. Hubby was standing under a tree somewhere with the food (because you should NEVER stand under a tree in an electrical storm) and I was sitting out on the grass under my umbrella (aka lightening rod). 

Not a real pic of our storm, but pretty much like this.

As I looked around, lots of other people were huddling under umbrellas and various forms of plastic, and I considered the implications of holding an umbrella in an electrical storm.  I concluded that there were so many others holding umbrellas that the chances of lighting coming down on mine were fairly slim. But in truth, that was reckless.  At some point more and more people were leaving, so I started to pack up when hubby arrived with the food. So in our raincoats and under umbrellas, we went ahead and ate our mediocre and somewhat wet food as the rain finally started to slack off. 

Ever the optimists, we hung out for a bit longer, hoping the show would go on.  Nope.  Pretty soon police cars were driving though with loud-speakers telling everyone to go home and get under cover, because the electrical storm would be coming back with a vengeance. Even with our raincoats, by the time we got back to the car we were literally soaked to our underwear.  But, again ever the planner, I had brought beach towels just in case, and we weren’t so dripping when we finally were in the car going home. We don’t have network TV, so I spent the rest of the evening watching Instagram reels of fireworks around the country. A little anticlimactic.

We had one more event planned before all the events of the spring and summer would be over:  hubby’s bi-annual family reunion, with about twenty of us, down in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.  If you’ve never been there, it’s the home of Dollywood and everything else Dolly, RIP, plus everything vacation oriented for families with kids.  I’ve never seen so many dinner theaters, candy stores, mini-golf, pancake houses and tattoo parlors in my life.  The tattoo parlors seemed a bit incongruous, but there were a few dispensaries too, so I guess there’s more than one way to spend a family vacation.  I confess, we weren’t up for Dollywood, but Great Smokey Mountains National Park is a quick drive away.

Left: the Klingman's Dome Ranger Cam while we were there. Right: what it's supposed to look like.

We’d been to the Smokey mountains about ten years ago with the girls.  Loved it.  Weather was beautiful, did everything in the park, saw the vistas, historic homesteads, wild animals, gorgeous drives . . . even went hot air ballooning.  Was a fabulous trip.  But this time, it was overcast the entire time.  We wanted to do some of the drives in the park again, but the ranger cams showed nothing but white clouds, so that was out.  We did a lower drive which was lovely, but not awe-inspiring; you can’t have everything. 

There is also a road in Gatlinburg (locale of the Johnny Cash song, Boy Named Sue) that is a couple-mile loop with lots of stores and workshops of artisans and crafters.  Just my thing.  We went last time and I wanted to go back again for a little more shopping.  But we didn’t plan well and we went on Sunday rather than Saturday, and everything was closed.  Sigh. But we had a lovely time with the relatives – good food, good conversation, laughter and excellent air conditioning.

One last thing:  I took a friend of mine to the airport several weeks back, and drove down again about a week ago to pick her up. Mind you, this is JFK in NYC and Newark Liberty in New Jersey.  I’m generally happy driving in Manhattan because it's all laid out in grids; but with all the interchanges for the bridges and different parkways (sort-of-freeways, for all you westerners), it can be a bit much.  Then if you add in heavy rain, a dark night, tight lanes and the NY drivers, well, it can be a challenge. 

Round-about way to Newark, via JFK

First, I swung into Manhattan to see a dear friend for a lovely chat, home-cooked dinner and some time in their new apartment.  At the appropriate time I headed out to JFK in moderate rain and arrived in plenty of time, lined-up with the other waiting cars.  At some point I decided it might be wise to check if the plane was on-time, at which point I realized I was supposed to be at Newark, not JFK.  Oh no! JFK to Newark is about 45 minutes, plus by now it was raining hard. Car wash hard.  So I went speeding down the freeway at 80 mph. (It’s weird, the next lane over was doing about 60, and the far right about 40.  Of course there are safety concerns, but I prayed and trusted.) I made it and my friend only had to wait about 15 minutes for me, and I was forgiven.  Then the 2 ½ hours home with a slight detour to drop her off.  Once again, this all proves that air travel is, at best, a trying experience even when you’re not even flying.

We’re now in the last dregs of summer with everyone else.  Should we cling to the remaining days of heat and sunshine? Or look forward to the cooler evenings of late summer and fall?  I am undecided.  I love the sunshine but hate to sweat.  I’m enjoying that we’ve basically had nothing planned for August, and can just take it easy and enjoy.  The start-up of everything in September is lovely, but there is a lot of bustle that goes with it.  Suffice it to say, I’ve enjoyed the last lazy days of summer and hope you have, as well.