My granddaughters in NY start their year of school today. Children here in SC have been in session for a week, and my grandkids in Georgia started two or three weeks ago. I can't imagine any child being thrilled to go to school in the heat of SC summers! I remember how 'lazy' we all felt toward the end of May and into June. As the sun climbed higher and shone hotter, our minds couldn't concentrate on studies. The windows were open and the noises of the world outside were calling to us to come and join, but we were stuck in the classroom.
As I wrote yesterday and have begun today, it seems as if my opinion of school was quite negative. I believe I'm misleading you in that. It wasn't my favorite occupation, but it was the job I had to do for twelve years, and I did it. There were many things about going to school that I liked. I'd feel guilty not sharing those.
While in grade school on Newtown Lane, we spent most of the day in one classroom, but when we had art or music we would be taken, 'Indian file', through the halls to those rooms. The art room was in the basement, two flights of stairs from the main floor. I always felt that I was in a cave on the way to my favorite class. Once there, I was thrilled to get my mind and fingers in gear, working on whatever the project was for the doing. Mr. Carpentier led us through the making of paper mache heads for hand puppets. He showed us how to make clay forms, which then would be put into plaster of paris molds, how to pour those molds, and to eventually come out with a plaster sculpture. We painted with tempera paints, sometimes to different types of music. We would allow the melody to fill our ears, and move our emotions, down through the brush until the 'mood' hit the paper. I remember receiving high praise for a cemetary full of stones, surrounded by a gloomy fog. The music was a classical piece in a minor key, probably with bassoons or oboes, and it felt sad to me. Since we were working in black and white paint at that time, it lent itself to the music and the mood. I also remember a day when my beloved teacher swatted me across the bottom in front of the whole class. I'd been talking when I shouldn't have been. It was an embarrasing moment.
Other moments worth mentioning... fire drills. When the bell would ring, the class would immediately jump to its feet and file, 'Indian style' again, out of the building with the teacher as the lead. We'd go outside, stand in whatever weather there was, until a bell rang again which signaled our allowance back into the building. Then, there were air raid drills. In the fifties, there was always the fear that we'd be atomic bombed by an enemy, Russia, especially. I'll tell you, I was a scared little girl even thinking about that possibility! Today I wonder how much protection we'd have had, kneeling on the floor facing the wall, and covering our heads with our little hands.
On another day in another blog entry, I'll share some remembrances of high school days. For now, I'll conclude this with the wish that my granddaughters enjoy their first days of school in NY.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
School Days
It's that time of year again....when the air is a little cooler and Fall is in the air. It's the time when Moms are hustling to outfit their broods for the beginning of the school year.
I turn the pages in my mind, back to my school days. There was a mixture of emotions, every September, at the coming of the first day of a school new year. I was not very outgoing in those days, and somewhat intimidated by teachers and other students, until I got to know them. So, as anticipation enveloped me, anxiety swallowed me. It made for interesting 'first days'.
Each year there were a few new items of clothing....not entirely new wardrobes, as seems to be the case now-a-days. Always, though, there were new shoes. By the end of the first day, after walking to and from school, there would usually be a bit of a soreness, if not a blister, on the heel of my foot. Aside from that, I seem to remember new sweaters that my Mother had knit for me to ward off the Autumn chill.
I can remember my very first days of kindergarten. Inside the main doors of the school on Newtown Lane (now the middle school) there was a door on the wall to the right. That was my kindergarten room where I found two teachers, Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Wilson. Mrs. Jones was tiny and fashionable and nice. Mrs. Wilson was sturdier and neatly dressed with upswept hair, and was equally as nice. It took me what seems now to be a very long time before I could keep the appropriate name attached to the correct teacher. I was not used to being far from my Mother at that age, and had not been in any sort of pre-school setting. So, my first days were spent crying my eyes out, and probably none too quietly. After awhile, I'd settle down and get involved with some toy or another, and I'd be ok until noon came, and I could go home. I remember my favorite activity was sitting at a small table with a peg board into which small wooden pieces stood to form little towns with houses, trees and cars. Other than that, the only thing about the class or the room was that there was a wooden jungle gym in there. I don't remember a single other student or learning shapes, colors, letters or numbers.
I went to that classroom for only a portion of the year, as my Father had found a job in Farmingdale, and we moved from East Hampton to Bay Shore to live. I had to start school at another school, Fifth Avenue, I believe. (It could have been Brook Ave., as I went to each of those buildings at some point during the next three years before returning to East Hampton.) Wherever it was, I wasn't immediately happy to be thrown into another bunch of strangers, and I performed to the best of my ability with tears, again. I wasn't being naughty. I was being insecure. Again, I learned before too long that noone was going to hurt me, and I settled into the
fact that I was going to be there and might as well make the best of it.
I made some friends in the neighborhood and some were even in my class, so it made things a bit more comfortable. There are only three things I can remember, though, about any of those years at Fifth Ave. and Brook Ave. One is that at recess I would stand at the chain link fence in the playground and watch the brook that tumbled over stones beneath the trees behind the school yard. I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves and shimmered on the water. Another thing that I was fascinated by was a set of twin boys in my class, Billy and Bobby Williams. They were African American and they were twins...possibly the first of each category I had been introduced to. Thirdly, my 'boyfriend' and neighbor was Chuckie Marasca. One day while carrying his hot lunch, he stumbled and the bowl of steaming soup spilled on his chest, and he cried. So did I.
It's funny the things that stick with you over 50 years. One of the girls in our neighborhood in Bay Shore was walking back from the bus stop while I was walking to it. She was crying. I asked her what was wrong. She wailed as she answered, "I forgot to put on my underpants!" At the time, I felt sorry for her, but wondered how anyone wearing a dress could forget the most important part of their clothing, especially when I put them on before any other garment. Now I just laugh about the whole thing.
Back in East Hampton, I returned to the school on Newtown Lane. I did the remainder of my years in that school, some classes even took me back to the room where I'd started kindergarten. By then, it was filled with typewriters and rather than an alphabet border over the blackboard, there were Gregg short-hand symbols, and a wonderful teacher named Mrs. English.
To this day, I don't remember liking school much more than I did on my very first day. I hope that my grandchildren will feel much differently, and that they will find it easier to endure those long hours when anything seemed to me to be better than spending the day in those stuffy rooms with some pretty boring subjects. I am glad that I was forced to be there, however. I loved my art classes with Mr. Carpentier and Mr. Lonero. I couldn't wait to get to my music classes with Miss Orlando. I enjoyed my years with Miss Bird, Mrs. English, Mrs. Webb, Miss Porter, Mrs. Juckett and some others. Though I'm not sure that I could recite anything I ever learned in school, I'm grateful for the education I received there...perhaps the greatest lesson being that nobody there was going to hurt me.
I turn the pages in my mind, back to my school days. There was a mixture of emotions, every September, at the coming of the first day of a school new year. I was not very outgoing in those days, and somewhat intimidated by teachers and other students, until I got to know them. So, as anticipation enveloped me, anxiety swallowed me. It made for interesting 'first days'.
Each year there were a few new items of clothing....not entirely new wardrobes, as seems to be the case now-a-days. Always, though, there were new shoes. By the end of the first day, after walking to and from school, there would usually be a bit of a soreness, if not a blister, on the heel of my foot. Aside from that, I seem to remember new sweaters that my Mother had knit for me to ward off the Autumn chill.
I can remember my very first days of kindergarten. Inside the main doors of the school on Newtown Lane (now the middle school) there was a door on the wall to the right. That was my kindergarten room where I found two teachers, Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Wilson. Mrs. Jones was tiny and fashionable and nice. Mrs. Wilson was sturdier and neatly dressed with upswept hair, and was equally as nice. It took me what seems now to be a very long time before I could keep the appropriate name attached to the correct teacher. I was not used to being far from my Mother at that age, and had not been in any sort of pre-school setting. So, my first days were spent crying my eyes out, and probably none too quietly. After awhile, I'd settle down and get involved with some toy or another, and I'd be ok until noon came, and I could go home. I remember my favorite activity was sitting at a small table with a peg board into which small wooden pieces stood to form little towns with houses, trees and cars. Other than that, the only thing about the class or the room was that there was a wooden jungle gym in there. I don't remember a single other student or learning shapes, colors, letters or numbers.
I went to that classroom for only a portion of the year, as my Father had found a job in Farmingdale, and we moved from East Hampton to Bay Shore to live. I had to start school at another school, Fifth Avenue, I believe. (It could have been Brook Ave., as I went to each of those buildings at some point during the next three years before returning to East Hampton.) Wherever it was, I wasn't immediately happy to be thrown into another bunch of strangers, and I performed to the best of my ability with tears, again. I wasn't being naughty. I was being insecure. Again, I learned before too long that noone was going to hurt me, and I settled into the
fact that I was going to be there and might as well make the best of it.
I made some friends in the neighborhood and some were even in my class, so it made things a bit more comfortable. There are only three things I can remember, though, about any of those years at Fifth Ave. and Brook Ave. One is that at recess I would stand at the chain link fence in the playground and watch the brook that tumbled over stones beneath the trees behind the school yard. I remember how the sunlight filtered through the leaves and shimmered on the water. Another thing that I was fascinated by was a set of twin boys in my class, Billy and Bobby Williams. They were African American and they were twins...possibly the first of each category I had been introduced to. Thirdly, my 'boyfriend' and neighbor was Chuckie Marasca. One day while carrying his hot lunch, he stumbled and the bowl of steaming soup spilled on his chest, and he cried. So did I.
It's funny the things that stick with you over 50 years. One of the girls in our neighborhood in Bay Shore was walking back from the bus stop while I was walking to it. She was crying. I asked her what was wrong. She wailed as she answered, "I forgot to put on my underpants!" At the time, I felt sorry for her, but wondered how anyone wearing a dress could forget the most important part of their clothing, especially when I put them on before any other garment. Now I just laugh about the whole thing.
Back in East Hampton, I returned to the school on Newtown Lane. I did the remainder of my years in that school, some classes even took me back to the room where I'd started kindergarten. By then, it was filled with typewriters and rather than an alphabet border over the blackboard, there were Gregg short-hand symbols, and a wonderful teacher named Mrs. English.
To this day, I don't remember liking school much more than I did on my very first day. I hope that my grandchildren will feel much differently, and that they will find it easier to endure those long hours when anything seemed to me to be better than spending the day in those stuffy rooms with some pretty boring subjects. I am glad that I was forced to be there, however. I loved my art classes with Mr. Carpentier and Mr. Lonero. I couldn't wait to get to my music classes with Miss Orlando. I enjoyed my years with Miss Bird, Mrs. English, Mrs. Webb, Miss Porter, Mrs. Juckett and some others. Though I'm not sure that I could recite anything I ever learned in school, I'm grateful for the education I received there...perhaps the greatest lesson being that nobody there was going to hurt me.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Morning...
A rare day it is when I awake after six o'clock. I'm what I term a "Morning Dove" and always have been. It is my favorite time of day...my time... a time when it is peaceful, quiet, and uncluttered by the goings-on of life.
I find the dark before dawn fascinating. I don't, for the most part, like darkness, but pre-sunrise is different. It's so still and I feel completely enveloped in a short-term lonliness. Before I know it, a beam of light shows in the east, causing a filtered light, a soft, misty illumination of all it touches. The world awakes. The song birds begin their warbling. The sky puts on a show of color...gold, pink, lavender, blue. The leaves begin to dance in the gentle breeze, and grasses glitter with diamond-like dew. The sea releases it's mist to the heavens.
Every morning is unique. Sometimes the day dawns with no sunlight, and yet it is there, somewhere beyond our view. Those are the days when the rain spits on our window glass, or the fog obscures our vision, or when it is hazy, hot, humid and grey. Even those mornings are beautiful to me. Rain has a song of its own, sometimes rhythmic, sometimes with irregular beat, sometimes pounding, sometimes gentle., nearly without sound. Fog, too, offers specialty. Misty, grey air, surrounding everything, dampening whatever it falls on. It has a mystery about it as it cloaks the shoulders of day.
Each dawn brings it's own gifts. I am glad that I'm awake early to receive them. It is a time for me when I can think clearly, reflect upon God and His handiwork, and appreciate all things, undistracted. Those who snooze so comfortably in their beds until later hours of the morning have no idea what they're missing! I wouldn't trade place with them for anything.
I find the dark before dawn fascinating. I don't, for the most part, like darkness, but pre-sunrise is different. It's so still and I feel completely enveloped in a short-term lonliness. Before I know it, a beam of light shows in the east, causing a filtered light, a soft, misty illumination of all it touches. The world awakes. The song birds begin their warbling. The sky puts on a show of color...gold, pink, lavender, blue. The leaves begin to dance in the gentle breeze, and grasses glitter with diamond-like dew. The sea releases it's mist to the heavens.
Every morning is unique. Sometimes the day dawns with no sunlight, and yet it is there, somewhere beyond our view. Those are the days when the rain spits on our window glass, or the fog obscures our vision, or when it is hazy, hot, humid and grey. Even those mornings are beautiful to me. Rain has a song of its own, sometimes rhythmic, sometimes with irregular beat, sometimes pounding, sometimes gentle., nearly without sound. Fog, too, offers specialty. Misty, grey air, surrounding everything, dampening whatever it falls on. It has a mystery about it as it cloaks the shoulders of day.
Each dawn brings it's own gifts. I am glad that I'm awake early to receive them. It is a time for me when I can think clearly, reflect upon God and His handiwork, and appreciate all things, undistracted. Those who snooze so comfortably in their beds until later hours of the morning have no idea what they're missing! I wouldn't trade place with them for anything.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Drier Days
We are currently 'all dried up'. No, not in the way that term is generally used, but in the true sense of the word 'dry'. The flood waters in the first floor of the house have subsided and the wood framing and flooring of the house have returned to their normal levels of humidity. The clean up crew removed the noisy fans and dehumidifiers, and quiet once more has returned to our home.
This is an exciting time, with all the hustle and bustle of contractors, painters, repair people in and out. We're somewhat tied to the house during business hours, so that we can be available to whichever contractor/vendor calls to set up an appointment, which has most usually been for that day. It's good for us that things in the construction world are slow, because these people are hungry to get here and work. We're pleased that we don't have to wait weeks for service people to put our house back together.
Yesterday we got the estimates and allowances for vinyl floor coverings to replace the master bath, the half bath, the laundry room and the kitchen. They had just what we wanted, and it all fell into the range that is covered by insurance. That is a blessing, because we will replace the carpet in the living room with wood flooring, and that will cause us to shell out a little pocket money above what is allowed for the carpeting. I look forward to getting that set up, too, but am still waiting for those numbers to come in before we can make choices.
We're living in rather rustic conditions these days, and spend a good deal of time on the front porch, just to dodge noise or contractor traffic. We've still got piles of things stacked up in the sun porch, and have yet to remove the heaviest of furniture from the bedroom and living room. We're sleeping upstairs in what is dubbed 'the Grandkids Room', and it's been an adjustment getting used to another bed...a double size, rather than our Queen-sized one. We're campers, though, so we're quite used to managing when conditions are not perfect. At least we have 'facilities'... showers, toilets, sinks. (Did you notice I hesitate to use the words 'running water' ?)
It seems as though we'll be put together faster than we thought we would, and we'll have nice new flooring of our own chosing, rather than that which the builder put into his 'spec' house. That is an exciting feature, too, in all this.
I guess every cloud does, indeed, have a silver lining. I've seen quite a few of those in the last ten days or so, and my heart is very grateful for them.
This is an exciting time, with all the hustle and bustle of contractors, painters, repair people in and out. We're somewhat tied to the house during business hours, so that we can be available to whichever contractor/vendor calls to set up an appointment, which has most usually been for that day. It's good for us that things in the construction world are slow, because these people are hungry to get here and work. We're pleased that we don't have to wait weeks for service people to put our house back together.
Yesterday we got the estimates and allowances for vinyl floor coverings to replace the master bath, the half bath, the laundry room and the kitchen. They had just what we wanted, and it all fell into the range that is covered by insurance. That is a blessing, because we will replace the carpet in the living room with wood flooring, and that will cause us to shell out a little pocket money above what is allowed for the carpeting. I look forward to getting that set up, too, but am still waiting for those numbers to come in before we can make choices.
We're living in rather rustic conditions these days, and spend a good deal of time on the front porch, just to dodge noise or contractor traffic. We've still got piles of things stacked up in the sun porch, and have yet to remove the heaviest of furniture from the bedroom and living room. We're sleeping upstairs in what is dubbed 'the Grandkids Room', and it's been an adjustment getting used to another bed...a double size, rather than our Queen-sized one. We're campers, though, so we're quite used to managing when conditions are not perfect. At least we have 'facilities'... showers, toilets, sinks. (Did you notice I hesitate to use the words 'running water' ?)
It seems as though we'll be put together faster than we thought we would, and we'll have nice new flooring of our own chosing, rather than that which the builder put into his 'spec' house. That is an exciting feature, too, in all this.
I guess every cloud does, indeed, have a silver lining. I've seen quite a few of those in the last ten days or so, and my heart is very grateful for them.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Life's Surprises
People are always saying how Life is full of surprises. I must agree. Things come, good and bad, that you can't see coming, and they sometimes take your breath away or leave you scratching your head as to 'why'.
Such a moment came to us a week ago. We arrived home after ten and a half hours away from the house, to find our entire first floor underwater. After an initial response of groaning, an immediate peace took over. Following closely on the heels of peace, came the thought, "Ok, we're faced with a flood, let's get to the mopping." So, for four hours, we cleaned up standing water. At 2:30 AM we decided to go to bed, as there wasn't a thing we could do about the soggy wall to wall carpet until we called our insurance company in the morning.
Since then we've had a steady parade of people in and out of here. The ServPro people were here within 3 hours of a call, and throughout the week did their work swiftly and courteously. We have dry floors again, minus vinyl and carpet. Mold killing sprays were applied before molds could even think of starting. Their work has been accomplished for the moment, but they will be back after other jobs are performed, to put our house back in order, and to clean dust from the upholstery, etc.
We've been inundated with a non-stop phone ringing for appointment making. We've had contractors and flooring people, and insurance adjusters here to do their jobs and to make our situation less stressful. We've had friends and family come to offer us meals and lodging. I believe this week has brought more people through our door than have ever been here at any other given seven day period, other than holidays. But, I'm thankful for them all.
Where would we be without them?
This morning yet another contractor will arrive. He will come for another surprise....a faux pas by the builder of this house. We've got some obvious 'dipping' in our floor, apparently because the builder did not build a pantry wall with any support under it. (Even I, who can barely hang a picture on the wall, know that walls need support!) South Carolina has a law that a builder is responsible to fix the problems of a new house for up to eight years after it's built. Now we'll have to send him a certified letter explaining the problems, and attempt to get him here to fix it.
He'll have 30 days in which to do that, and if he will not or does not, we must file a case with the state and they will fight for us. Meanwhile, we can't get our floors repaired by the insurance-hired contractor until the 30 days period lapses.
Surprise on top of surprise. It's beginning to look as if, even though the insurance realm is 'Johnnie-on-the-spot' with their people doing their excellent work, that our house will not be back in order until Thanksgiving! Well, we'll just have to live with it, and take this all with an attitude of 'there's nothing we can do about it, so don't stress.' One step at a time will get us to the finish line, and that's how we'll go about it. It's shaping up to look like another busy day of phone calls and letter writing and meeting with a contractor. Carpet, vinyl and hardwoods can wait to be decided on. There seems to be plenty of time for that.
I've got a renewed sympathy for those whose homes were lost to the ravages of Hurricane Katrina and the like. I can't imagine what they've gone through. My home is, at least, still livable.
This surprise has given me a lot of reasons to count my blessings, which are many. Still, I wouldn't mind having a 'fun' surprise come at me in the near future!
Such a moment came to us a week ago. We arrived home after ten and a half hours away from the house, to find our entire first floor underwater. After an initial response of groaning, an immediate peace took over. Following closely on the heels of peace, came the thought, "Ok, we're faced with a flood, let's get to the mopping." So, for four hours, we cleaned up standing water. At 2:30 AM we decided to go to bed, as there wasn't a thing we could do about the soggy wall to wall carpet until we called our insurance company in the morning.
Since then we've had a steady parade of people in and out of here. The ServPro people were here within 3 hours of a call, and throughout the week did their work swiftly and courteously. We have dry floors again, minus vinyl and carpet. Mold killing sprays were applied before molds could even think of starting. Their work has been accomplished for the moment, but they will be back after other jobs are performed, to put our house back in order, and to clean dust from the upholstery, etc.
We've been inundated with a non-stop phone ringing for appointment making. We've had contractors and flooring people, and insurance adjusters here to do their jobs and to make our situation less stressful. We've had friends and family come to offer us meals and lodging. I believe this week has brought more people through our door than have ever been here at any other given seven day period, other than holidays. But, I'm thankful for them all.
Where would we be without them?
This morning yet another contractor will arrive. He will come for another surprise....a faux pas by the builder of this house. We've got some obvious 'dipping' in our floor, apparently because the builder did not build a pantry wall with any support under it. (Even I, who can barely hang a picture on the wall, know that walls need support!) South Carolina has a law that a builder is responsible to fix the problems of a new house for up to eight years after it's built. Now we'll have to send him a certified letter explaining the problems, and attempt to get him here to fix it.
He'll have 30 days in which to do that, and if he will not or does not, we must file a case with the state and they will fight for us. Meanwhile, we can't get our floors repaired by the insurance-hired contractor until the 30 days period lapses.
Surprise on top of surprise. It's beginning to look as if, even though the insurance realm is 'Johnnie-on-the-spot' with their people doing their excellent work, that our house will not be back in order until Thanksgiving! Well, we'll just have to live with it, and take this all with an attitude of 'there's nothing we can do about it, so don't stress.' One step at a time will get us to the finish line, and that's how we'll go about it. It's shaping up to look like another busy day of phone calls and letter writing and meeting with a contractor. Carpet, vinyl and hardwoods can wait to be decided on. There seems to be plenty of time for that.
I've got a renewed sympathy for those whose homes were lost to the ravages of Hurricane Katrina and the like. I can't imagine what they've gone through. My home is, at least, still livable.
This surprise has given me a lot of reasons to count my blessings, which are many. Still, I wouldn't mind having a 'fun' surprise come at me in the near future!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Camping
We are old campers...in every sense of the word. Mike and I both liked to tent camp when we first met, and we still enjoy a few nights and days in the outdoors. In recent years, however, our camping experiences have been those nights spent in KOA cabins, rather than in a motel room, as we travel to 'somewhere'. I miss the real camping trips.
We've had quite a number of adventures over the years. We've spent weeks in a tarp covered tent, while the rain poured down during our entire vacation. We've stayed in rustic campgrounds with only an outhouse for facilities. There have been other sites with full comforts of home, including laundry rooms and game rooms. We agree that wooded sites are our favorites versus the option of a huge, grass-filled "parking lot".
On one trip, we were staying in a site in Maine, run by the University of Maine. It was a great place, other than the fact that the black flies multiplied in instants! The site was wooded, rustic, with plumbed facilities...that you had to pay a quarter to use. Mike was chief cook, as usual, but he was used to using charcoal in the grill, or the little bottled gas camp stove. I told him I was going to cook him breakfast over the campfire. I think that's REAL camping... cooking over a wood fire. The bacon and fried eggs were perfect, and the toast was too. He was quite amazed, for some reason. And...he still praises my campfire cherry cobbler and 'end of camping stew' (made with whatever leftovers there are!)
Mike and I have camped all over the Northeast states and in Washington state. We've had dry and wet weather. There have been county parks, state parks, and privately owned campgrounds. We've slept in little tents and medium sized tents with those fiberglass, fit-together poles. We've even used a large two-room, canvas tent which is a pain and a puzzle to construct, with it's aluminum pipes of various sizes and shapes. (You need to have eight arms to raise that thing!) We've slept on the ground, trying to adjust our bodies to the lumps and bumps of tree roots and stones. We've tried to sleep on air mattresses which are somewhat similar to a trampoline for the lighter weight partner when the heavier one turns over! We've packed foam pads and a foam mattress (from a never used pull-out sleeper couch) to go under our sleeping bags. All in all, I'd say we've done it all, except RV camping.
KOA cabins work for us, now, in our age of aches and pains. Suffice it to say that it's hard enough to rise from a bed these days, without the thought of trying to get up from the ground. (Not a pretty sight!) These little log shelters have nice, albeit hard, beds to lie down on for the night. They're safe and cozy and somewhat comfortable. They have small heaters/AC units in them and ceiling fans. What they don't have, which is what I wish they did, is bathrooms. It's a long hike with a flashlight to the restroom in the middle of the night!
We both agree on one thing. We may eventually opt for a camper pop-up trailer, but never want to have an RV. If you're going to take 'home' with you, tv, computer and all, what's the point of going camping? We love the outdoor air, the cooking, the sounds of the night, the star gazing, the sound of the rain on the roof, the pine cones dropping, the smells of campfires.
It's time. Time to rummage through the garage and find all the stuff, pack it up, and head for the hills. It's been too long since we have had some good, old-fashioned camping..and I'm ready, even if it means I'll have to sleep on top of tree roots.
We've had quite a number of adventures over the years. We've spent weeks in a tarp covered tent, while the rain poured down during our entire vacation. We've stayed in rustic campgrounds with only an outhouse for facilities. There have been other sites with full comforts of home, including laundry rooms and game rooms. We agree that wooded sites are our favorites versus the option of a huge, grass-filled "parking lot".
On one trip, we were staying in a site in Maine, run by the University of Maine. It was a great place, other than the fact that the black flies multiplied in instants! The site was wooded, rustic, with plumbed facilities...that you had to pay a quarter to use. Mike was chief cook, as usual, but he was used to using charcoal in the grill, or the little bottled gas camp stove. I told him I was going to cook him breakfast over the campfire. I think that's REAL camping... cooking over a wood fire. The bacon and fried eggs were perfect, and the toast was too. He was quite amazed, for some reason. And...he still praises my campfire cherry cobbler and 'end of camping stew' (made with whatever leftovers there are!)
Mike and I have camped all over the Northeast states and in Washington state. We've had dry and wet weather. There have been county parks, state parks, and privately owned campgrounds. We've slept in little tents and medium sized tents with those fiberglass, fit-together poles. We've even used a large two-room, canvas tent which is a pain and a puzzle to construct, with it's aluminum pipes of various sizes and shapes. (You need to have eight arms to raise that thing!) We've slept on the ground, trying to adjust our bodies to the lumps and bumps of tree roots and stones. We've tried to sleep on air mattresses which are somewhat similar to a trampoline for the lighter weight partner when the heavier one turns over! We've packed foam pads and a foam mattress (from a never used pull-out sleeper couch) to go under our sleeping bags. All in all, I'd say we've done it all, except RV camping.
KOA cabins work for us, now, in our age of aches and pains. Suffice it to say that it's hard enough to rise from a bed these days, without the thought of trying to get up from the ground. (Not a pretty sight!) These little log shelters have nice, albeit hard, beds to lie down on for the night. They're safe and cozy and somewhat comfortable. They have small heaters/AC units in them and ceiling fans. What they don't have, which is what I wish they did, is bathrooms. It's a long hike with a flashlight to the restroom in the middle of the night!
We both agree on one thing. We may eventually opt for a camper pop-up trailer, but never want to have an RV. If you're going to take 'home' with you, tv, computer and all, what's the point of going camping? We love the outdoor air, the cooking, the sounds of the night, the star gazing, the sound of the rain on the roof, the pine cones dropping, the smells of campfires.
It's time. Time to rummage through the garage and find all the stuff, pack it up, and head for the hills. It's been too long since we have had some good, old-fashioned camping..and I'm ready, even if it means I'll have to sleep on top of tree roots.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Shopping...
It's tax free weekend in SC. I'm sure there were lines of people waiting to get into the stores the minute they opened the doors this morning, as there are on the day after Thanksgiving, commonly known as 'Black Friday." I was not standing in one of those lines, nor will I be in any during the later hours of the weekend.
Oh, I'm the happiest of shoppers, when I can browse at my leisure and see what's available. I'm a good shopper, too. I look for bargains, and usually find them, but I don't consider it a bargain just because it's on sale. It's only worthy of the 'good buy' title if it was on sale and I NEED it. Otherwise, it's just something I found on sale!
I do not rush to the sales or the tax free shopping. Such ads are meant to draw us into the store, where wise business owners know that we'll browse the stock and buy more, just because it's labeled "reduced". Many people enjoy the excitement of getting an item before someone else does. Me? I can't fathom racing around like a madwoman or having a tug of war over an item of clothing. I don't enjoy the crowds or the lines or the hunt. I want to get in and out of the departments as fast as possible with what I went in to purchase.
Of course, I wasn't always that type of shopper. When we were packing up to move, I had an epiphany. We had too an excess of everything! And it's true that we still do. We don't really need anything, and so my shopping sprees have slowed considerably. That being said, I must confess to having a magnetic pull toward Hobby Lobby, A.C. Moore and Michael's. I must chain myself to the leg of the couch in order to keep myself away from those craft places. Antiques and used furniture places are a draw as well, but I am rarely a customer in those spots. I just enjoy the looking.
So, today, tomorrow and Sunday, my wallet is safe. I've got a lot to do this weekend, so I will be too busy to allow myself to indulge in the temptation which may overcome my resolve to steer clear of the tax free shopping. I truly believe that I've got the discipline to avoid that chaos anyway. I do...I know I do! I could use a new desk top computer, though.
WHERE'S THAT (afore-mentioned) CHAIN???
Oh, I'm the happiest of shoppers, when I can browse at my leisure and see what's available. I'm a good shopper, too. I look for bargains, and usually find them, but I don't consider it a bargain just because it's on sale. It's only worthy of the 'good buy' title if it was on sale and I NEED it. Otherwise, it's just something I found on sale!
I do not rush to the sales or the tax free shopping. Such ads are meant to draw us into the store, where wise business owners know that we'll browse the stock and buy more, just because it's labeled "reduced". Many people enjoy the excitement of getting an item before someone else does. Me? I can't fathom racing around like a madwoman or having a tug of war over an item of clothing. I don't enjoy the crowds or the lines or the hunt. I want to get in and out of the departments as fast as possible with what I went in to purchase.
Of course, I wasn't always that type of shopper. When we were packing up to move, I had an epiphany. We had too an excess of everything! And it's true that we still do. We don't really need anything, and so my shopping sprees have slowed considerably. That being said, I must confess to having a magnetic pull toward Hobby Lobby, A.C. Moore and Michael's. I must chain myself to the leg of the couch in order to keep myself away from those craft places. Antiques and used furniture places are a draw as well, but I am rarely a customer in those spots. I just enjoy the looking.
So, today, tomorrow and Sunday, my wallet is safe. I've got a lot to do this weekend, so I will be too busy to allow myself to indulge in the temptation which may overcome my resolve to steer clear of the tax free shopping. I truly believe that I've got the discipline to avoid that chaos anyway. I do...I know I do! I could use a new desk top computer, though.
WHERE'S THAT (afore-mentioned) CHAIN???
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