Saturday we headed off to shop for two chairs which we found in the second store we tried.  We chose power lift recliners — one large and solid to fit Bruce and another smaller one for me.   We had them delivered the next day and soon sank down with audible aahhs.   It’s great to have a chair that actually fits.  Monday afternoon I took a nice long nap.  You know — to break it in.   zzzzzz

I went through everything on and in my desk and re-thought what I really needed to save.  Another bag of trash.

There’s nothing like a clean place to feel quite superior.

It was our first trip so we did all the touristy things.  We took the Hop on and off tour to see the high spots.  One day we decided to go out to Harvard to the natural science museum.  Unfortunately, we got lost that day and walked waaay tooo much.  By the time we got home we were really dragging, and sore.

Thanksgiving was interesting at Plimouth Plantation.  The 2011 “pilgrims” and Indians were all extremely well-fed, contrary to the 1620 versions.  No one looked like they were starving.  (smile.)  They had had a fire in one of the houses just a couple of days before.  The thatch was gone and the main beams were charred.  I asked one of the “pilgrims” about it and he made it sound like they had hauled buckets of water from the creek.  ???  They don’t have any modern fire codes??  And fire equipment nearby?  I doubt they can risk anything so dangerous.   Even the Globe Theatre in London has a fire resistant roof under that thatch.  I mentioned it to the taxi driver and he too scoffed.   However, the pilgrims aren’t supposed to talk about anything outside their realm.  So there we are.

The train ride was interesting but long.  Next time we go on a train trip, we’re taking an express train and upgrading to business class.  Maybe there won’t be any crying babies there.  I also now know where Kingstree SC is located (in addition to a dozen other little towns).  I didn’t used to know that.

It was good to be home and, as always, the dogs were happy to be back in their own beds, as were we.

Last year we had tickets to the Lake Eden Arts Festival in mid October in Black Mountain, NC. Of course, the Great Leg-Breaking put that plan aside for the year. Therefore, we still had tickets left over. They were burning a hole in our collective pocket. That was the last warm idea we had.

Every other time we’ve camped there, it has rained. No, not this time. It was too ever-lovin’ cold. It would have snowed, if that had been the case! Because we were camping in a big meadow, there was no electricity. So there was no hope of even a small space heater. Just two wonderful sleeping bags — rated to 20 degrees. I grabbed my book and little reading light to hunker down inside the bag and read, hoping the little light would put out some more heat. Bruce kept saying, “I can’t hear you.” Of course not, my head was stuffed inside a flannel lined bag. Poor Bruce is too tall to crunch down inside. He had to use the flannel blanket we brought as an after-thought to cover his head.

The next morning I went to boil water for our coffee and found ice in the kettle. Again — what were we thinking?

This was our swan song for cold weather camping. Now that our brains have thawed out, we’re finally thinking again.

Ginger is called the “good dog” because she doesn’t bark at little girls; Annie doesn’t earn that title.  She wanted to know if that “other dog” was in “her room” where the doll house is kept. She was and, of course, promptly barked from her crate when we entered the room.

I said aloud in the car that I needed to feed Raggs, our calico cat, when we got home.  As soon as we got in the house, she reminded me.  Later, again back in the car, Bruce asked if I’d fed the fish.  No.  Little Missy reminded me again after we returned from seeing Lion King.

Also in the car (yes, we were in and out all day) I lamented that I wished we had cup holders in the back seat.  ”In my daddy’s car, they are there,” she said, pointing to the folded up arm rest.   I pulled it down. Sure enough. There they were.  I’ve only owned that car for five years. . . . sigh.

Need sorting out?  Give the job to a four year old.

If I never had to see anyone’s tattoos, on arms, legs or places strangers shouldn’t even see,  unless they’re medical personnel, that would be fine.

If I never had to hear  a baby scream or an older child throw a tantrum in a restaurant, book store or church service, then I’d smile more.

I quit smoking years ago so I’d no longer smell cigarette smoke. That hasn’t changed.

Remember when tattoos were private? In private places?  Only career sailors or carnival workers had them.  Those people were few and far between.  Now people wear clothing so revealing we can’t miss them.  And they seem to be everywhere.  Both the people and the tattoos.

I know my children occasionally cried or carried on in public.  Once Jim threw himself down on the floor of the grocery store because I wouldn’t buy him something he wanted.  I stepped over him and kept on going.  Faced with no audience, he hopped up and trailed after me.  The boys didn’t go out to restaurants until they were old enough to behave themselves. If we couldn’t afford a sitter, we stayed home — or asked Dale’s grandmother to sit.   Going out was special, not every day.  Children were on their best behavior or they stayed home.

What if people still did some of those things?  Would we all be more content?  I’d have to find another subject for a blog.

The sidewall of the tire gave out about 10 miles west of Evansville.  At least I had two fellas to change it.  We limped into Fairfield 30 miles away on the baby tire and headed for the local Wally World for a replacement.  It was the only tire place open on a Saturday afternoon.  I would think tire shops would be rather busy on a Saturday — but what do I know?  We thought the tire guy was going to cry when he saw the amount of tread still on the relatively new tire.  However, stuff happens and we just bought a new tire and drove across the road to the motel.

Needless to say, our cousins were absolutely delighted to see Hugh as it had been some years since he had attended and no one knew he was coming.  We enjoyed the lively and humorous conversations!  There’s nothing like a hearty belly laugh with people you love.  The weather was even not too hot — a rare occurrence in August.

A surprising discovery was that there are several variations of Grandma Hubble’s  famous ham loaf recipe. Who knew?  Now I won’t rest until I try the new versions.   Then I can make an educated recommendation next year to the cousins.  Oh, if only we could ask Grandma.  Better yet, I wish she could just bake it for us.  Hers was always the best.

However, the other day I needed two things that I knew I could get there without running all over town.  It’s terribly hot.  No one needs to spend any more time in the car or parking lot than absolutely necessary.

I found the first item, some Oil of Olay facial cloths I particularly like,  in short order — and, of course, much cheaper than the price in any other store.  The second item was the same — something I knew they had, and cheaper too.  However, once again, I noticed that odd phenomenon. If I’m getting  just two things, the second one is always as far away from the first as is humanly possible.  I still have to walk the entire store.  But, at least it was air-conditioned and cooler than the parking lot.

After internet research, Bruce purchased a turkey fryer set-up.  It’s “cooking” apparatus reminds me of a very large bunsen burner.  We  put it outside by the back door on the patio area out there.  Bruce was in charge of the 10 minute water bath timing.  Man — hot and heavy work.

I ran the cooking pots for the relish and the bread and butter pickle recipe.  Severeral years ago I discovered that smaller batches are easier to manage than a double batch.  Too often the pot can cook at the bottom and not at the top.  Better to stick to the recipe.

So we put up 16 pints of delicious relish and 26 pints of b&b pickles. That keeps us in pickles for a year with ones for gifts too. A good summer project.