(no subject)
Tripping on Family - 2
Part 1
August 27, 2007
Fair is fair, Ken met my brother and sister-in-law as well as my parents ... all in less than a week ... so it was now my turn to meet his family: mother, nephew/brother, and his two brothers and their wives. I will say two things now. One, the dynamics of his family are far more interesting than those of mine and two, I'm so glad we don't live just down the street from them. 'Monkey in the Middle' would take on nightmarish qualities.
Ken's oldest son, Devon, prepared us for the linguistic challenges we northerners were sure to face in a very southern state. With authority he imparted to us that the plural of y'all is all y'all. Funny, we said, but we thought y'all WAS plural. Apparently not. From this I was able to deduce that y'all was singular and that when addressing two it would certainly be both y'all.
Armed with what would surely save our lives when confronted by hillbillies 'n hicks, we packed up Monday night and made our way out early Tuesday morning. Earth rotated and come dawn the sun revealed itself, showing us a day of clouds and possible rain. I was good with that because I hate long drives with the sun blistering in on me through all the windows; and this was a long drive -from Michigan to Missouri. A thousand miles one way and the Roo (Subaru) was without air conditioning. We'd been without since the a/c belt screamed, smoked and snapped off while at an overnight in Ohio to visit the daughter and her boyfriend-in-lawish. For Missouri I'd actually packed a sweater because Michigan temps were dipping down to 50 at night but when I checked the forecast for our destination, I put the sweater back in the closet.
All trips should start out with singing. Also, with ill-contained excitement and joy in anticipation of a journey filled with the potential for wondrous adventures. We, however, were too tired to muster up much more than heavy-lidded 'meh, it's mornin's before we wedged two short-legged and two long-legged people into a car meant for four shortish-legged people.
La-la-lahhhh .. an IPod was wired to the stereo and an endless selection of music began filling the tight cabin while Ken and I tensely observed through mirrors how the trailer was faring. Did I mention we were pulling an empty trailer so that we could bring back a 1976 Gold Wing that belonged to Ken's father? Yes. It's true. And the trailer needed a hitch so that was all ordered and installed just days before. This was it's true, virgin run.
Suddenly Ken slapped his thigh and said, Oh no!
I jumped (well, sat straighter, jumping is problematic in a Roo) and thought crap! The trailer's in a ditch! Even while I was looking at it thorough the side mirror and it was bouncing happily, totally ignorant of what lay in the future. Adrenalin doesn't dissipate fast so What! WHAT!??? was my response.
Arrrggghh. Ken had forgotten his teeth. Though, truth be told and as it turned out, he'd not have stood out as odd-man-out where we ended up. So back we went. Instead of pulling into the driveway Ken opted to park the car and trailer across the road of the house and run inside. This made sense because there would be no way to turn around in the drive, and backing out would have surely ended with the trailer in the ditch ... for real. Devon needed to use the loo so I flipped on the emergencies and waited. And waited. And waited.
Both y'all are like women!!!
Eventually they came out but by then my neighbor had noticed us sitting pretty much in the road (no shoulders, just big ditches) and had come running out to inform us of all the break-in's in the area of late. Yup. Thanks. Just what I needed to hear as I leave my house empty for four days. This was a fast trip, yes; we needed to be back by Friday night so we could go to the RenFest with the daughter and her b/f, Steve, before they headed back to Ohio to finish up their packing for their move the following weekend from Ohio to ... ... Oklahoma. That's another story.
Now all y'I would worry about little thieves worming their way into MY home to take things which don't belong to them and I can't afford to replace. I hated them. Suddenly, I wanted to stay home. I was filled with dread even though I knew the house would be safe. We had the forethought to employ my son to watch the house, water the plants, feed the cat. The usual. Still. I was again regretting that I'd not gotten the job which would require me to back out of the trip. But, fair is fair. Even though the thrust of the drive down was to retrieve the motorcycle, meeting the family was important; not like we're down in those parts often.
I swallowed the cold drink of reluctance. It slid slowly down my throat like a large and solid ice cube. The two long-legged people folded themselves back in and we were on our way again, comforting ourselves with talk of aborted beginning being a good test run for the trailer. It passed. We were glad.
Ken needs to give up smoking. Seriously. None of the rest of us three smoke so he needs to get with the group. But, quitting wasn't going to happen now so at least he cracked the window and the smoke tried its best to escape. After the cig was gone the window stayed open and after a while I could smell .... something. Couldn't quite pin it down but said it reminded me of burned brake shoes, or oil. sniff sniff. Devon could smell it too; sniff sniff, Ken couldn't. No surprise there, he thinks his farts are like fragrant flowers to be sucked deeply into ones lungs through ones nose ...
Nothing could be determined so the window was closed. The odor was gone. Open the window ... there it was again. Surveying the traffic showed the odor wasn't coming from anything else, we were alone. Window up. Gone. Window down. Back. Up. Gone. Down. Back. Up. Down. Updownupdown .. well fuck, stop this thing and let's check under the hood? Ken passed the exit coming up and opted to drive a bit further to the next city. Once in Imlay we found the Speed Way, filled the tank and popped the hood. The oil was down, nearly a quart. Also, it seemed to be leaking.
Oh. Joy.
We discussed and debated and I kept to myself my small little voice which said, "YaY! Yippee! We go back and my house won't be burgled!" I can be very selfish at times. It was decided we'd go on, put another 100 to 150 miles on then check it again. We'd make a determination then. As it turned out, the oil leaked little to none so we went on our merry way trying to put as many miles behind us as fast as possible so we didn't arrive too horribly late in Doniphan.
In the great town of Doniphan there awaited us a hotel room. I'd never had hotel sex so I schemed to rid us of the two kids but, as it worked out, that never happened. The trip down consisted of stops for gas, checks on the status of the oil level, stops to pee, stops to eat and no stops for cemetery's or sight-seeing. We arrived after dark and after ten and the town. Was. Closed. Neither of Ken's brothers answered their phones when he'd called earlier, to get directions to the hotel and now, once in town, we found that there was no cell phone service. At all.
What to do what to do. The day began in cool Michigan and that was the last we'd see of cool. The temperature warmed up considerably in Indiana and was hot in Missouri, even though the sun had long since disappeared under the horizon. We were hot, dirty, tired, sore and hungry. We pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store, closed, and when another vehicle pulled in they were descended upon for directions.
Before heading down to Missouri, accommodations had been discussed. Ken didn't want to stay with his mother; she didn't have the room and according to Ken that if I though he was messy, I'd go into toxic shock upon seeing his mother's place, let alone stay there. His older brother, Chuck, didn't offer but we'd decided against staying there because he and his wife, both y'alls, smoked and myself, I'm allergic to cigarette smoke. Ken's younger brother and wife also, to my knowledge, didn't offer but Ken said he'd not be able to tolerate so much of Eric and mate as they are uber christians and we'd all (all y'usall?) have locked horns, the devils I presume, and Ken would stress to the point of leaking oil. This, as it turned out, was a very good choice. All said and done, Ken wanted a neutral place to go where he could be alone. So to speak.
So there we were, at the Something motel. We checked in, unpacked, detached the trailer, and turned the small room's a/c to 'high', also known as 'leaking cool air out into the general vicinity of the window'. We ordered and went for pizza, and made calls. Plans for the next day, Wednesday, were made. On the 'morrow I would meet Chuck and his mate of choice, Jackie. Or, Jack-eh. Or Jack. Not really sure which.
The night was spent with the suzi wearing pj's. This is a rare occurrence and I suspect much appreciated by Ken's two boys who occupied the other twin bed in the small room. To be fair, in spite of the a/c's ability to blow, the small space did eventually cool off, and stay cool. As long as the bathroom door stayed closed. But, I digress.
Wednesday. The two old folk arose stiff and sore. I was first, slipping out quietly to read a book just as the sun pinged it's rays between dry and dying leaves of the surrounding trees. Ken staggered out after the sun was well up; the kids much later. Kids are by nature, lazy. Suzi, by nature, is unhappy with the nature of kids.
Ken wandered down to a gas station and snagged himself a hot coffee. Just the one. He saw my need, recognized it for the threat it posed, and offered me some of his. We discussed the day and decided we should leave the trailer at the motel; we'd also meet Chuck in the parking lot of the local auto parts store so Ken could buy lifters for the rear of the Roo which would keep the front of the trailer higher up once the bike was loaded. After the kids woke and dressed we drove to the store and this strange guy in a Charger kept driving by checking us out. This turned out to be Chuck. Apparently the way to his house is too confusing for mere northerners to comprehend and he'd come to lead the way.
The last time the south lead it didn't turn out so well for them but, I digress again.
My first impression of Chuck: haggard Santa dressed for an oil-slicked beach. Yes, I know, I can be unkind. He looked nothing like Ken, or Ken like him. We followed Chukka Claus to his house which is located right next to his mother's house. Also, Ken's mother's house; both hers and Chuck's are together on the same piece of land. In all our talks to both Chuck and Ken's mother this location had been referred to as "in town". As we drove out of town and down a highway, before turning onto a road out in the middle of nothing but land and trees, we wondered to just what town they had been referring.
Note to self: in Misserrah, town need only consist of two houses close together on the same land.
Chucks house was unkempt from the outside, more kempt from the inside and had one, great redeeming factor. A bitchin' a/c. Ken's mother and nephew/brother were still off in Dollywood land and wouldn't return until later that afternoon or early evening. Curious, Ken went into his mother's house. I watched as he slowly backed out. I've seen bad and in spite of his protests, I made him let me in. The smell. I don't know how anyone could live with that smell. Ken's sniffer, a beaut to be sure, doesn't work well in the area of detection, but even he couldn't take the smell of what appeared to be garbage dumped from their bins and which covered every bit of space on floors and counters. The cats, I counted four, were indoor and did not enjoy daily, or possibly even weekly, cleaning of their facilities.
Here, too, John lives. John is Ken's nephew/brother; the son of his sister that his mother and father adopted. John is a sweetie who'll not pass the mental age of maybe 12 and who also is a doll/bear addict. The collection number many and covered his bed, completely. Later I discovered that he sleeps on the bed, but curled around the edges of the stuffed animals. The bed is for them, John is but a brief, nighttime visitor. I didn't explore far and made a quick retreat back into the heat even though Ken's mother's a/c is more bitchin' than Chuck's.
I make no judgment on Connie (Ken's mother); I've seen this before and it is a mental illness. I would have cleaned the place for her but knew it would be back to the same state in no time and I'd not insult her by trying. I wished I could help her, but, I couldn't. Ken thought this prime time to drive home a defense of his messiness saying that see, he was no where near as bad as that. True, I had to agree, but when he said he could never be a bad as what we'd seen I hesitated long enough for him to give me a look of disbelief. He denies it even today but I know, if left to his own devises, our place would look that bad only, to be fair, it would take a while.
***(Special note disclaimer: Ken read this and was insulted, he said left on his own he'd never be as bad as his mother and I disagreed. He insisted, we talked and he's right, he'd not get to this level. He's more the set it down and walk away type but eventually it becomes too much for him and he cleans it up. The thing is that it becomes too much for me long before then so I'm moving, piling and cleaning the messes and those piles are rather neat ones here and there and don't trigger his alarm, so they sit. And grow. Then they are dealt with. I've not lived like this so in my retelling of the story I am most definitely guilty of an exaggeration that is born out of my frustration. Still, it does give the impression, as he said, that people would wonder why I'd date a guy like that - and mine is an unfair depiction of him, especially since it doesn't include all the good and rare aspects of him that dwarf the messiness to the point it's only a frustration.)
It was relatively early and Chuck had made all us'all breakfast with foods provided by Connie. It was delicious. We hung around talking and going in and out to investigate but not too far because none of us was too anxious to play northern hosts to southern ticks. To any ticks, for that matter. Ken worked on the car, putting in the spring lifters, and I did my best to steer around clouds of ciggie smoke. Chuck and Jackie smoked indoors like a house on fire, Ken would go outside. Most of the time. Jackie seemed nice, if not a bit 'unstable'. Being a bit anthropophagic I stayed outside even though it was hot and where, I was sure, there lurked a tick with my name on it.
Eventually Jackie came to sit with me on the porch and we talked. She was unstable, more than before, because she'd had more beers to drink. Oh, yes, just remembered another reason we didn't opt to stay with Chuck; he drinks but more than that, he's on drugs to deal with his psychotic problems. Not sure what, I don't think it's schizophrenia but when he goes off his meds, AND drinks, he's more than just unstable. Just before we left, maybe a few days before, we got a call from his mother saying that Chuck was off his meds. That maybe we should find a room somewhere and later she said she'd talked to a friend of hers, who runs the Something motel, and reserved a room for us at a discount. Many thanks to Connie.
I liked Jackie. I prefer to not associate with people who are drunk in the morning but hey, it's her life and as long as she's not driving it's no never mind to me. Okay, so when I say unstable where Jackie is concerned yes, I mean drunk. Not fall over talking nonsense to the carpet drunk, but drunk nonetheless. So I say unstable because she seemed unsure of her footing. So Jackie and I talked and we laughed and talked some more and wouldn't you know it, she and I not only share the same birthday .. day and month ... but year. She and I .. the same age. Sure she's blonde and very very thin but damn. I thought she was about five or eight years older than me. O.o.
Chuck is loud and boisterous and reminded me much of my ex-brother-in-law from Maine. Chuck wasn't shy and had no problem talking about his time in prison and his run-in's with the cops or his mental illness. Open. Gotta like that. No excuses, no apologies. This is me, take it or leave it. I admire that in people and dogs. I wish to be of similar attitude, but wimp out. Chuck and Jackie were generous and after a while I warmed up to both of them, though not to the point of hugging and crying when we left. I gave Jackie mental kudos for not jumping in and trashing the other brother, Eric, when Chuck got on to how Eric is the bad son, the greedy son and warned us that nothing but venomous hate would emit from Eric's lips about Chuck. The man let us in on all of that bad, stale air which lives between them in the land of resentment and anger. Jackie did agree with Chuck that Eric's calling her and saying nasty things about Chuck's dead girlfriend did deserve the phone calls Chuck made in return. Calls that ended up with Eric taking out a restraining order on his brother.
Family. No way can you pick 'em like this, you just have to be born to 'em.
Eventually Connie and John arrived and somewhere along the lines plans were made and set for Connie, John, Ken, boys and I to drive to Eric and Cynthia's for dinner. In the meantime we stayed at Chuck's talking and once Ken and took the Roo for a quick drive to a store so I could snag some soda. Ken spent much of his time trying to get the computer to work; the one that we'd taken down for his mother. After hours spent fussing over it, that day and the next, Ken gave up on getting it to work. He determined the problems and decided to get those parts here and mail them to Chuck, who could easily deal with it at his end. Hopefully we'll have Connie up and running so communication is easier and who knows, maybe even John will get interested and learn a bit of keyboarding.
When it was time we said out so-longs to Chuck and Jackie. Ken, Devon and I in the Roo; Connie, John and Kyle in Connie's car. She wanted to stop at the house of someone called Andy, so she took her car. Not that all we'all could fit in either car. All us'all in the Roo headed back to the motel to hook up the trailer because that was the whole point of the trip, to get the bike, and that bike sat on the property next to Eric behind the trailer where Connie used to live. Before moving "into town".
We drove up to the motel and sitting on the bench outside our room were John and Kyle. Abandoned! As it turned out Connie wanted to run to the store to get hamburger buns to go with dinner (in her trunk were burger patties and salad). Why she couldn't take the boys, I have no idea but after a while I started to get a little concerned because she didn't come back. So, we waited. And while we waited a 2007 Something Buick? drove up and parked next to the Roo. This, of course, was Eric and he and Cynthia had come to lead the way back to their place because, apparently, the trailer is hard to find. Or, Ken is clueless. Or the perception down south that northerners are directionally impaired is universal. I'm not sure which. I don't mind that they did this, it was thoughtful. But Ken had lived there and even if we passed it up, we'd find it eventually.
There was talking and a hug or two but nothing energetic. Same as with Chuck. But not the same as with Connie; she, Ken gave a good and affectionate hug to and he called her ... Mutt. Mutt eventually showed up. She collected her two boys and left. Then Eric drove out, followed by us. And we drove. And drove. All the way the road twisted and turned and bent .. a GREAT road for motorcycles and no one driving was afraid of the curves. Posted for the curves were 35 mph limits but those were just suggestions. The natives paid those no never-mind and drove 45 .. 55 .. whatever. Zip zip we went for quite a while until the car ahead of Eric (one he could never quite catch up to) stopped and turned into a driveway. Hey, it was Connie!
We continued on for a bit more until Eric turned into his driveway. We parked and walked back to the bike, which had been partially covered with a tarp. Oy. It was in rough shape and the rear tire had sunk into the ground. Over the past five years they had rain, but not lately, so when it had gotten wet and soft it sank. Now that it hadn't rained in over a month, it was rock-hard dry. In fact, grass and weed alike were a crispy, willowy brown. Milk prices were soaring because there were no pastures for cows and herds had to be fed 100% of the time with costly feed. But none of this factored in to freeing the bike.
Turned out to not take much. Devon straddled the bike and tried going forward, which didn't work, but with Ken and I pushing it came out of the rut backwards. Ken drove the car around and positioned the trailer, which he'd modified to have the side boards function also as ramps. It was nifty. After much work and grunting the bike sat proudly atop the trailer but with low tires, the bike just sat upright even thought the kick stand was down. More modifying and tire filling and nailing and strapping and viola! It was secure.
Afterwards, brothers wandered the land talking of this, that and the other. Reminiscing. At one point we all poked our heads into Connie's former home when we needed to find the keys to the bike. Amazing, really; she'd not moved one thing out. And this place was just like the new place, only more of it.
I tired of the walking and talking. I'd passed a thermometer and it calmly displayed .. 110 degrees. I was going indoors where I knew at least two a/c's were huffing out cooler air and besides, Connie had arrived and gone inside so I figured it was a good time to go meet Cynthia. Officially.
Cynthia is the rooster in the marriage and she dominates the roost. Her roost. She fits the part: size, demeanor, comb, wattle and waddle. Being of great size, she occupied a large computer desk type chair on wheels at the kitchen table like a pale-skinned Jabba the Hut. From her varied positions from her chair she orchestrates everything from meals, to logging onto the internet. The decor was a mix ranging from poverty, to elite. My walk along the trailers one hallway told me more than the outside, which was early depression style. In three places I thought my foot would punch out of the trailer through what felt like holes in the floor, covered by carpet.
I know what it's like to not have enough money to do what needs doing and I felt bad for them because I know Eric is on permanent disability due to heart disease, and injuries from his job. It wasn't clear but I gathered Cynthia didn't work and it became apparent that not only was she a talker, but a gossiper. By the time we left I knew everything about her medical problems, Eric's medical problems, her brother's, her nieces, etc. So I found out that they had to sue Eric's former employer in order to get his injuries covered, financially. However, there was an odd proviso .. they had to spend the entire amount in one month or forfeit life-long Medicaid coverage. More than odd but, there it was. This explained the new car, the new refrigerator, the new computer, the hot tub .. and the list goes on.
Yet, the trailer remained in depressing disrepair with it's holes and rot and rust. And they remained in a sort of disrepair, she and Eric. Both could have benefited from a visit to a dentist who made false teeth. Personally, I'd rather have teeth than a $2,000 fridge. But that's just me. Everyone seemed to have bad or missing teeth so maybe it's just not a priority; having teeth might actually make a person stand out. We talked, Ken and the boys found a gun and they shot it off (never heard it) and general visiting took place. I stayed mainly indoors and listened to Cynthia complain, gossip, and as much is as humanly possible, crow loudly. When it came time to eat the men came in and took away the patties Cynthia made, returning like hunters to feed the group. From there, Eric took over the telling of their woes.
Interjected here and there and everywhere were inquiries regarding Chuck, "See, we're not the evil people Chuck says we are" - things like that. Chuck did the same thing, baiting me like I was a big mouth bass. Both seemed to be auditioning for the part of 'Better Brother' and I took no part in the game and artfully dodged everyone's designs to pull me onto their side, where I was sure to be grilled for all the info I possessed on the other side. I just don't get into these things. The two couples revealed a lot of themselves in the attempt, though.
At one point, in a rather passing remark, I became aware that the Eric and Cynthia pets and the house were in fact ... infested with fleas. When I came into the kitchen the first time I felt the need to sit in a hard kitchen-type chair instead of sinking into one of the new, plush, swivel recliners - his and hers. I have learned to act on these feeling to the point that many don't even feel like decisions, it's just something I do as a matter of course. So when I learned of the infestation, I was glad to not be sitting it what very well could be the Ritz for Fleas but still ... ...
OMG, FLEAS!!! EeeeeeW, ICK!!!! OH. MY. GAWWD. .. RUN, RUN AWAY!!!! GET OUT! LEAVE!!! BUY LOTS OF DEADLY CHEMICALS AND BATH IN THEM!!!!
My mind screamed at me to flee! the fleas but I just sat, and chatted. Eventually we left. It was after dark so we took it fairly easy back through the curves and along the way we plotted out how we'd strip before getting into the room - sealing all clothes in bags -and, one at a time, we'd take a shower. Both Ken and I, at separate times, have battled fleas and the desire to remain free of them drives my decisions to NOT have pets. My experience with fleas was over 15 years ago and the memory remains as fresh and horrible as if it were last week. We stopped once, at Chuck's, to off load the trailer with its burden of bike. I stayed there until the following night.
We couldn't buy flea-killing chemicals because the stores were closed because, what have we learned about town? It. Closes. Early. So we went directly to the motel. Here we were hit immediately with the glaring fact that I am, surprise surprise, a woman. I couldn't strip!! So we revised and I nipped quickly - do not stop at go do not collect $300 do not stand in front of the wheezy a/c - into the bathroom where I undressed in the tub atop a white mat keeping an eye for jumpers. Nothing appeared. I showered and sent in the next for debugging. I don't think any of us had unwanted passengers but the effort was worth it for my peace of mind just the same.
Another night spent on the narrow and hard mattress in Someplace motel. Sleep came in short shifts with leg cramps, over-heating and back pain filling the interludes. This was expected, I don't sleep well outside my own bed. Still, being tired and hot led to irritability and we had one more day to fill before hitting the road and hightailing it back home where we'd have just enough time to hop into bed, wake, and meet the daughter and Steve at the RenFest. I fixed on that thought; of being with my daughter one last time before she moved so far away that she may as well have set up house on the moon. My kid and the Dead Bob and Zucchini Brother shows are worth the trip in themselves!
Thursday. The day before Connie had asked if I wanted to go to some flea markets with her and John. I said sure! And made Ken stop at a Dollar General on our way to Chuck's so I could buy an umbrella. I left the store and nearly fell into Chucks car; he'd come into town to buy beer. Back at the older brother's we were a bit disorganized but managed to have breakfast and Ken continued working on the computer. Then Connie, John and I headed out to buy things from fleas while Ken and the boys went with Chuck to help him fix some sort of machine where he works.
Connie looked at the umbrella, at the sky, and said, "You'll be surprised how you won't need that." I said it wasn't for rain, but the sun. However, as it turned out, I didn't need it for that either because for them, flea markets aren't an outdoor thing, but an indoor thing. I bought some books, a mechanical cat, and .. think that was it. But we walked and talked and sat and talked and talked John out of buying a sixth Popples, though he did settle on a Popples lunch box.
I can't fathom why anyone in this area would spend a dime on a cell phone, not one of them worked .. including ours so when Ken called the connection lasted a record 1.3 minutes. Grrrr. Oh well, guess that meant he and the boys were back at Chuck's and we sort of cut our flea'ing short. There was a huge fan, as tall as me, by the checkout counter and I impressed everyone by letting the whole line ahead of me .. ah, to stand in front of that fan for an extra five minutes! Good thing I smelled good ...
Back to Chuck's and Ken and boys had returned from helping Chuck with whatever machine he needed help with which Ken and the boys turned out to be of no help at all. Jackie was grilling steaks and chicken when Ken decided it was time for a family picture. Made sense as Chuck and Jackie had to leave for work in short order. So there was the gathering and herding of people .. Connie and John, Chuck and Jackie, Ken and boys. I got to take the pic. Guess who's not family.
***(Note: Ken's recollection is that I dug the camera out and refused to give it to him, which does sound like me. His intention, unknown by me, was to be the one taking the picture and said he gave me no resistance when I insisted on taking the picture because I historically refuse to be in any, which is true. Someone points a camera at me and my mind goes into an icy panic. But it makes no sense to be sending copies of this picture to Chuck, Eric and Connie without Ken in the pic and instead, me. It made perfect sense to me that the one and only person who wasn't family should take the family picture. So there.)
Back in the Chuckle's household we, that being Ken, boys and I, were grilled not too subtly for what Eric and Cynthia had said about them. Which was .. nothing, except for their attempts to find out what Chuckle's and wife were saying about them. Seeing a pattern? Being wise to the ways of gossip we all managed easily to skirt around the query 'N inquisition; not sure if it flustered anyone but I, for one, did not want to get caught in the middle of this. I liked both couples; just wanted to leave it at that.
Curiosity overcame Ken so we walked around the fence dividing Chuck's and his neighbor's property. A slight woman and two hispanic children were loading a van, leaving the door to the Herb and Tea Room open. We walked in. Connie had joined us and was talking to the slight lady who lamented over the lack of interest of the locals in town (a.k.a. three houses on a long stretch of field-lined road) so they were packing up and leaving, for good. Nice to have that touch. I call it the kiss of death but you may call it something else. It's when you find THE best flavor of chips, and they discontinue it; and then you find THE best soda, and the company goes out of business; and then you find THE best brand of jeans at a near-by store, but soon after they stop carrying it but are glad to tell you the one (and only) place they can be bought: Turkey.
O.o
At some point plans had been made to return to Eric's so he and his wife could lead us to a spring fall (not big like a water fall). My reaction - inwardly - NOOOOOOoooo! fleasfleasfleasfleas .. OMG!!! I did NOT want to go back to that house. Inwardly I cried, outwardly I got into the car but my mind whimpered in defeat the whole way.
We drove and drove and found Eric's without once passing it. Imagine that! I remained steadfast in my desire to stay flea-free and stayed in the Roo until the others came back - infested with fleas I bet. Following Eric and Cynthia we drove and drove and drove (and .. etc.) down the main road then dirt roads followed by what seemed to be fire roads. All the while Ken is saying how one could dispose of a body out here and it would never be found. I immediately recalled how I appeared in no pictures. How no one really knew exactly where I was or how to find me if the need arose. Of how Ken covets my barn. Of how my fortune of pennies in the mason jar must beckon to him, appealing to his greedier side.
THE HORROR!!!
The spring was neato. Used to be a thriving area with a mill and traffic jams of half a dozen wagons to boot. Now, though, the pond was stagnant with the only clear pool existing behind the mill, where the spring water tumbled out from the cliff face to the area below. This is also where some folk were splashing about with sockless feet. Ken and I did a walk-about, investigated a small cave and sat on a bench around the other end of the pond. I was all for just leaving. Hunger was scratching around in my stomach causing little growls to rumble about and I was weary of heading back to the motel after all the eateries were closed. But, I was in for more of the driving and driving so that we could look upon another spring.
This one had better caves and a bit of a path going around, which Ken, the boys, and I followed until we found ourselves on the other side of the parking areas. By then it was dark and others seemed to be hungry so we went to a sort of Dairy Queen, called crazy cones or something. Funny name, but the food was good. I had a buffalo burger and jalapeño poppers, which I paid dearly for later but oh, they are sooooo good. We sat on metal picnic tables and talked. I read a sign imploring me to not bring my beer up on the patio. Cool, drinking was allowed off the patio which, yeah, explained much.
Suddenly Eric said, 'So what's with that inheritance' .. or something like that. I mentally buzzed my lips 'cause damned if I knew anything about what Ken's father left .. except for the bike we'd loaded up and was now sitting, strapped like a lunatic to the trailer, in Chuck's yard. Ken was also trying to figure out what he was talking about but after a few questions it turned out that Connie had inherited something .. money or property. We didn't know. So Eric told us. And from what I could gather, he felt some of what Connie had belonged to him. I recalled now something Chuck had said and it would seem he, too, was prying about for info on something Connie seemed to have.
My thought: if she has it, it's hers! Yeesh. She bought the house Chuck lives in and gave the trailer and land to Eric. Oy vey. Family drama. But we got the talk away from money and onto Ken's, and Eric's, mis-spent youth. Just what young Ken-children need to hear, and learn. Another, yeesh.
Back to the motel, more sporadic sleep upon the hard and narrow bed of little sleepage and then .. Friday morning. I set my phone alarm for 6 a.m. Ken and I packed then roused the boys so we could get to Chuck's and hook up the trailer. We hoped to get on the road by 7 but that didn't happen. Good-bye's had to be made with the sun hot and burning away what little green was left. Mutt came out, sat in the Roo and talked to me while dogs ran about barking and pooping and the sun burn more green into submitting to brown. Finally, though, we were on the road by fifteen past 8 a.m.
I focused my mind on home ... home .. little red Dorothy shoes clicked three times and I formed a mental picture of us pulling up into our drive in plenty of time to get six hours of sleep. Six lovely hours in my own, sweet, comfortable bed. That done I turned to finishing the book I'd started on the drive up; it was my wish to finish the thick tome before getting home.
I'd get my wish ....