You want to buy us a 'what' and do 'what'?????
In the early 1970’s my parents lived in the Adirondacks. Faithfully, I’d drive to see them at least once a month from Worcester, Massachusetts and more often than not, I made the trip solo. I enjoyed the almost 4 hour open road journey and the freedom of the road that guided me through the Berkshires. Each passing mile marker brought me closer to memories of childhood summers and smells of the old Victorian house that stood grandly above the clear mountain lake.
Travelling west on the Mass Pike, I sailed along the open road singing along to my favorites Jackson Browne, Linda Ronstadt, Bob Dylan and James Taylor. My dreamy state of a humming engine and the blaring songs were all I needed until I pulled off of the Northway at the Saratoga Springs exit. Now the radio was turned off so I could simply enjoy the ride.
I looked forward to this two-lane road which would lead me straight to my folk’s driveway in Lake Luzerne, NY.
This was what I came to call the 'homestretch'.
In my mind I was almost there. My European-made car could now do what it did best – tightly embrace miles of winding asphalt as it climbed higher altitudes into fragrances of pines that awakened the senses. This was the fun part.
Sometimes, suddenly and without warning, something would happen as I tested the law enforcement of speed zones…an encounter of the WORST KIND.
Dead ahead, a slow-moving, bobbing and weaving white box on wheels would appear; as I tried to blink away the apparition before me, reality hit like a kick in the gut…
THE DREADED RECREATIONAL VEHICLE.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME??????????
My thoughts became audible, loud and anxious. "These things are a MENACE to the real owners of the road" – it got worse and went something like this:
Who the (expletive) would be insane enough to go on an (expletive) vacation in an (expletive) aluminum box!!! I was livid.
The fast time I had made on the highway was now compromised. I was doing HALF of the speed limit and the moron had his left blinker on - there was no left turn for miles.
I could do only one thing for my safety and the others on the road. I slumped in my seat, downshifted to 3rd gear and became the first in line of what was to be a Samba dance of drivers who all shared my pain.
The snake-like line of vehicles became the prisoners of MARGE AND HARRY FROM OSWEGO, NY which was airbrushed on the spare tire cover on the back of their RV.
I made a promise that evening so many years ago to myself - I swore to never, ever own one of those gawd awful things.
Never say never.
All are welcome here. No animals were hurt during the writing of this blog. Enjoy these blogs but understand they are random and entertainment. If I'm trying to be serious I will let you know. If you're looking for solutions to the world's problems, you've come to the wrong place.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
ABSENCE MAKES MY HEART GO WANDER
I know I have a poor track record of consistent blogging posts but once in a while when I go to my Favorites and see my Blogger Dashboard is still there, I think maybe I should jot something down.
For some reason, this morning I was daring and opened it up. I pondered possibilities of subjects and now it's afternoon and I'm giving myself 20 minutes to write this because I have other things to do.
I woke up around 7:30 am and padded out to the coffee pot before sitting at the counter. My husband is now back to work as a professor and I sit in his favorite stool at the kitchen island. It has a great view of the river and morning traffic on the Intracoastal is soothing to witness. When he's not home is the only time I ever sit there.
We did travel to North Carolina in the RV. It was wonderful and cool and next year we will try to go for 2 whole months.
But I'm not talking about RVing today.
Anyway, as I perused this morning paper's headlines and looked over the classifieds ads of puppies for sale (no I do not need a puppy), I ended up where I always do - the obit page. My mother used to do that and it drove me nuts. I would ask 'why do you read those' and her solid answer was always to make sure she wasn't on it.
It got me to thinking and sometimes that takes me to odd places in my reality.
Now I know the process of how to submit a special notice to a newspaper - be it an engagement or wedding announcement - and sadly, more often than I care to recall, the dreaded obituary. I have submitted these various notices of information in person, online and camera ready.
NONE of those had typos or ommissions yet every single one ended up in print with typos and errors. The don't give refunds or credits for mistakes or typographical errors.
I find inaccuracies in obituaries to be the worst of the worst thing to happen when trying to publish a notice. Some errors are obvious even if you don't know the person. For example if the deceased spells his last name one way, but then the list of male survivors all have a different spelling last name, well, that is an obvious error. One can only imagine the angst the family feels when they open the paper to read the words about their dearly departed and discover his name spelled wrong. That person who had 'that job' gets the 'stink eye' aimed at them by the rest of the family - trust me on this.
When discussing the deceased, no one ever, ever, ever is entirely truthful. It's not politically correct to call anyone bad names when they can't defend themselves.
But really, does everyone die peacefully surrounded by loved ones??? It would seem so but I know that not to be true. I was with my mother when she passed and it was not peaceful because before she took her last breath I was already wailing and sobbing in my sorrow. I was scared and angry and all alone and I wailed and sobbed enough for those who weren't there. I liken it to screaming in the dentist chair with folks in the waiting room...everyone in that wing knew what had happened.
I didn't mention that on the obituary form I submitted.
I did mention however, that she enjoyed her animals and gardening.
If I wrote my own notice it would go something like this:
Patricia Lynn Knoch Doyle died after being sick and tired for a while. Mrs. Doyle - who was 90 (I'm making that up) was kicking and screaming right up to the end. Her family had just gone out to lunch when, finally, she took her last breath and went to meet her Heavenly Father. The jury is still out that she made it. She lived longer than we ever thought possible but you know what they say - only the good die young. She was not wearing a helmet at the time of her death.
Patricia had a sick sense of humor, could be witty and charming as can be; she also could cut you in half with her words and was famous for her 'silent treatment' approach to those who crossed the line. She swore like a sailor and failed miserably each Lent when she gave up cursing. Her hobbies were worrying, worrying and worrying. She was a recovering Roman Catholic and remained racked with guilt throughout her entire life.
She worked from the time she was 14 years old and in the early days of her marriage, when they were always broke, she drove several shit box cars and never complained unless they leaked.
Widely known for her frequent change of hair styles, lengths and colors, her husband preferred her blond but that never stopped her constant experimenting with various hues. Some were real doozies.
Left behind to finally enjoy some peace and quiet is her loving husband of what seemed like a hundred years and two sons (all of whom she loved dearly) as well as a couple of siblings, a few dogs and a long lost cousin on Long Island she found on Facebook...................................
Well, there's probably more I would say but I want to watch HGTV's "House Hunters" before Judge Judy comes on - Her Honor is one of my husband's favorites.
Like I said, this is just a rough death notice but you get the picture of where I'm going with these notices...
Hopefully, I'll have a long time before I have to really get it done. And I'll put money on the very real likelihood of the publication spelling my maiden name with a 'k' at the end instead of an h.
I assure you I'm not going to worry about it at all.
Peace and love.
For some reason, this morning I was daring and opened it up. I pondered possibilities of subjects and now it's afternoon and I'm giving myself 20 minutes to write this because I have other things to do.
I woke up around 7:30 am and padded out to the coffee pot before sitting at the counter. My husband is now back to work as a professor and I sit in his favorite stool at the kitchen island. It has a great view of the river and morning traffic on the Intracoastal is soothing to witness. When he's not home is the only time I ever sit there.
We did travel to North Carolina in the RV. It was wonderful and cool and next year we will try to go for 2 whole months.
But I'm not talking about RVing today.
Anyway, as I perused this morning paper's headlines and looked over the classifieds ads of puppies for sale (no I do not need a puppy), I ended up where I always do - the obit page. My mother used to do that and it drove me nuts. I would ask 'why do you read those' and her solid answer was always to make sure she wasn't on it.
It got me to thinking and sometimes that takes me to odd places in my reality.
Now I know the process of how to submit a special notice to a newspaper - be it an engagement or wedding announcement - and sadly, more often than I care to recall, the dreaded obituary. I have submitted these various notices of information in person, online and camera ready.
NONE of those had typos or ommissions yet every single one ended up in print with typos and errors. The don't give refunds or credits for mistakes or typographical errors.
I find inaccuracies in obituaries to be the worst of the worst thing to happen when trying to publish a notice. Some errors are obvious even if you don't know the person. For example if the deceased spells his last name one way, but then the list of male survivors all have a different spelling last name, well, that is an obvious error. One can only imagine the angst the family feels when they open the paper to read the words about their dearly departed and discover his name spelled wrong. That person who had 'that job' gets the 'stink eye' aimed at them by the rest of the family - trust me on this.
When discussing the deceased, no one ever, ever, ever is entirely truthful. It's not politically correct to call anyone bad names when they can't defend themselves.
But really, does everyone die peacefully surrounded by loved ones??? It would seem so but I know that not to be true. I was with my mother when she passed and it was not peaceful because before she took her last breath I was already wailing and sobbing in my sorrow. I was scared and angry and all alone and I wailed and sobbed enough for those who weren't there. I liken it to screaming in the dentist chair with folks in the waiting room...everyone in that wing knew what had happened.
I didn't mention that on the obituary form I submitted.
I did mention however, that she enjoyed her animals and gardening.
If I wrote my own notice it would go something like this:
Patricia Lynn Knoch Doyle died after being sick and tired for a while. Mrs. Doyle - who was 90 (I'm making that up) was kicking and screaming right up to the end. Her family had just gone out to lunch when, finally, she took her last breath and went to meet her Heavenly Father. The jury is still out that she made it. She lived longer than we ever thought possible but you know what they say - only the good die young. She was not wearing a helmet at the time of her death.
Patricia had a sick sense of humor, could be witty and charming as can be; she also could cut you in half with her words and was famous for her 'silent treatment' approach to those who crossed the line. She swore like a sailor and failed miserably each Lent when she gave up cursing. Her hobbies were worrying, worrying and worrying. She was a recovering Roman Catholic and remained racked with guilt throughout her entire life.
She worked from the time she was 14 years old and in the early days of her marriage, when they were always broke, she drove several shit box cars and never complained unless they leaked.
Widely known for her frequent change of hair styles, lengths and colors, her husband preferred her blond but that never stopped her constant experimenting with various hues. Some were real doozies.
Left behind to finally enjoy some peace and quiet is her loving husband of what seemed like a hundred years and two sons (all of whom she loved dearly) as well as a couple of siblings, a few dogs and a long lost cousin on Long Island she found on Facebook...................................
Well, there's probably more I would say but I want to watch HGTV's "House Hunters" before Judge Judy comes on - Her Honor is one of my husband's favorites.
Like I said, this is just a rough death notice but you get the picture of where I'm going with these notices...
Hopefully, I'll have a long time before I have to really get it done. And I'll put money on the very real likelihood of the publication spelling my maiden name with a 'k' at the end instead of an h.
I assure you I'm not going to worry about it at all.
Peace and love.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
HOW THE RV PULL-THROUGH SITE CONCEPT IS SAVING MANY MARRIAGES -PART II
Holy cow! I don't know where the time goes. What I thought would be a daily 'me' time blog is turning into more of a weekly thing...life gets in the way of stuff like this. My mind spins off all the time and I have all of these ideas but I never sit my butt down at the computer to write them. I must invest in one of those recorder thingies...
Anyway, to conclude my post about backing up a fifth wheel trailer - and it's challenges on the spouses involved - has posed somewhat of a dilemma to me.
It goes without saying that I don't want to portray hubby as an inept backer-upper.
Therefore, I say without hesitation that I've seen some really scary back-up moments over the years. Some of them occurred on the site we had reserved but more than a few have been observed on adjacent sites.
We had to come up with a plan for avoiding audiences...we get on the road early and we get off the road early. This is crucial to timing the backing up of the 5th wheel with as few people around as possible. It's easier to blurt out obscenities at each other when there is no one within earshot. Even with the back up camera hubby has a tough time of things. Overhead limbs appear out of nowhere and some sites are exceptionally narrow...I'll concede to that fact. We stayed at a campground near the Jersey Shore once that I'm sure half of the occupants, after their stint in this location, ended up hidden somewhere in the Pine Barrens never to be seen again. Oddly enough, that was the summer we chose to bring along the HBO series 'The Sopranos'.
Anyway, God Bless the person who came up with the concept of the Pull-through. It's made arriving to one's destination of the day to be a much more pleasant experience. Cocktail hour becomes more of a civil occasion rather than grabbing that bottle of rum and swigging a few chugs just to get your nervous system back to normal.
And that's all I have to say of backing up a 5th wheel trailer since I'm not the driver and I don't want it to get around that hubby would drive 50 miles out of his way in order to avoid backing up...after all, I've really started liking this travelling thing we do each summer and I don't want him looking for a replacement navigator.
Anyway, to conclude my post about backing up a fifth wheel trailer - and it's challenges on the spouses involved - has posed somewhat of a dilemma to me.
It goes without saying that I don't want to portray hubby as an inept backer-upper.
Therefore, I say without hesitation that I've seen some really scary back-up moments over the years. Some of them occurred on the site we had reserved but more than a few have been observed on adjacent sites.
We had to come up with a plan for avoiding audiences...we get on the road early and we get off the road early. This is crucial to timing the backing up of the 5th wheel with as few people around as possible. It's easier to blurt out obscenities at each other when there is no one within earshot. Even with the back up camera hubby has a tough time of things. Overhead limbs appear out of nowhere and some sites are exceptionally narrow...I'll concede to that fact. We stayed at a campground near the Jersey Shore once that I'm sure half of the occupants, after their stint in this location, ended up hidden somewhere in the Pine Barrens never to be seen again. Oddly enough, that was the summer we chose to bring along the HBO series 'The Sopranos'.
Anyway, God Bless the person who came up with the concept of the Pull-through. It's made arriving to one's destination of the day to be a much more pleasant experience. Cocktail hour becomes more of a civil occasion rather than grabbing that bottle of rum and swigging a few chugs just to get your nervous system back to normal.
And that's all I have to say of backing up a 5th wheel trailer since I'm not the driver and I don't want it to get around that hubby would drive 50 miles out of his way in order to avoid backing up...after all, I've really started liking this travelling thing we do each summer and I don't want him looking for a replacement navigator.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
HOW THE RV PULL-THROUGH SITE CONCEPT IS SAVING MANY MARRIAGES -PART I
Since I was taught to drive by my father in 1969, I’ve never been a good backer upper.
I do much better now that I don’t listen to the radio.
And I don't want you to think I'm constantly backing into things - but I will admit I have a couple of tales that are real doozies.
Understand too, that today I parallel parked perfectly in front of the Post Office on a local avenue.
My first experience of not 'noticing what was behind me' was when I was 17 and my brother came home from serving in the Army with a brand new Italian sports car.
It was a pretty red color with a black convertable top. Even cooler was when there was one in the movie 'The Graduate."
My favorite brother drove it all over Europe and shipped it back to the great state of New Jersey after serving in the Army. I should also mention that it was damaged during shipping and so he waited even longer because it went from the ship right to a body shop.
I felt bad for him. I mean, the poor guy gets home, his car is wrecked in transit – and all he wanted was to get out of the service and drive that thing and start his life after the military.
This is where I come in.
One minute my mother is handing me the keys to her huge Buick station wagon to go get a gallon of milk and the next minute I’m looking in the rear view mirror at a cloud of dust.
I put the car in park and then saw, through the dust, a hint of red.
Yes, you're correct -I had literally backed out of the garage not 'noticing' the car parked on the gravel drive, proceeded to t-bone it with the rear end of my dad’s car!
It was a classic - I not only backed into - but pushed about 25 feet -my wonderful brother’s brand new Alfa Romeo Spider Veloce convertible.
It was not one of my finer driving experiences.
Note also, the parked station wagon's radio was so loud it was deafening.
Immediately I jumped out screaming that crazy hysterical Jersey Girl scream and my brother – well, he comes running out of the house, shaving cream on half his face with one of those old fashioned razor’s in his hand.
The vision of him in his robe, white undershirt and boxer shorts is burned in my memory.
He looked at the car, then me and his head dropped forward so that when he raised it again, there was shaving cream on his chest of his v neck undershirt where his chin had hit.
"Son of a Bitch".
That’s all he said as he turned around and went back inside.
I was still hysterical…and my mother was furious!
I never did go get that gallon of milk.
Backing up is really important when you own an RV, Trailer, Fifth Wheel or anything for that matter.
We have the fifth-wheel but even the name confuses me.
It only has 4 wheels. The truck has 4 wheels. Fifth Wheel????
Anyway, backing up isn't real popular with my husband, but only when he's pulling the trailer. Otherwise, he's the best backer upper going as well as pretty perfect going forward. He is also left handed. Not that there is anything wrong with that but I think it has something to do with why he has problems backing up the trailer. It must be that 'fifth wheel' thingie.
I have to be really, really careful with this story line.
So this is the part one blog of ‘How the RV Pull-Through Concept of RV Sites Is Saving Many Marriages.’
Happy trails till next time.
I do much better now that I don’t listen to the radio.
And I don't want you to think I'm constantly backing into things - but I will admit I have a couple of tales that are real doozies.
Understand too, that today I parallel parked perfectly in front of the Post Office on a local avenue.
My first experience of not 'noticing what was behind me' was when I was 17 and my brother came home from serving in the Army with a brand new Italian sports car.
It was a pretty red color with a black convertable top. Even cooler was when there was one in the movie 'The Graduate."
My favorite brother drove it all over Europe and shipped it back to the great state of New Jersey after serving in the Army. I should also mention that it was damaged during shipping and so he waited even longer because it went from the ship right to a body shop.
I felt bad for him. I mean, the poor guy gets home, his car is wrecked in transit – and all he wanted was to get out of the service and drive that thing and start his life after the military.
This is where I come in.
One minute my mother is handing me the keys to her huge Buick station wagon to go get a gallon of milk and the next minute I’m looking in the rear view mirror at a cloud of dust.
I put the car in park and then saw, through the dust, a hint of red.
Yes, you're correct -I had literally backed out of the garage not 'noticing' the car parked on the gravel drive, proceeded to t-bone it with the rear end of my dad’s car!
It was a classic - I not only backed into - but pushed about 25 feet -my wonderful brother’s brand new Alfa Romeo Spider Veloce convertible.
It was not one of my finer driving experiences.
Note also, the parked station wagon's radio was so loud it was deafening.
Immediately I jumped out screaming that crazy hysterical Jersey Girl scream and my brother – well, he comes running out of the house, shaving cream on half his face with one of those old fashioned razor’s in his hand.
The vision of him in his robe, white undershirt and boxer shorts is burned in my memory.
He looked at the car, then me and his head dropped forward so that when he raised it again, there was shaving cream on his chest of his v neck undershirt where his chin had hit.
"Son of a Bitch".
That’s all he said as he turned around and went back inside.
I was still hysterical…and my mother was furious!
I never did go get that gallon of milk.
Backing up is really important when you own an RV, Trailer, Fifth Wheel or anything for that matter.
We have the fifth-wheel but even the name confuses me.
It only has 4 wheels. The truck has 4 wheels. Fifth Wheel????
Anyway, backing up isn't real popular with my husband, but only when he's pulling the trailer. Otherwise, he's the best backer upper going as well as pretty perfect going forward. He is also left handed. Not that there is anything wrong with that but I think it has something to do with why he has problems backing up the trailer. It must be that 'fifth wheel' thingie.
I have to be really, really careful with this story line.
So this is the part one blog of ‘How the RV Pull-Through Concept of RV Sites Is Saving Many Marriages.’
Happy trails till next time.
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