Goodnight, Irene.....

Oh Irene, how could you decide, with your big old asshole eye, to disrupt our travel and wedding plans? How, I ask?!

OK, OK, I’ve been gone awhile. A few days. Before Irene the Hurricane, I know, I know! It’s a tough life on the road, what with moving every few days, unexpected hurricanes, weddings to attend during a hurricane. AND, ladies and gentlemen, the blog itself is easy-peasy to write – I literally flow like a river with things to say, big surprise, huh? However, the picture taking on my phone, pad and camera make for downloading the pics, naming the pics, then uploading the pics to the blog a pain in the ass. The pics are so important to the story, giving my words light for their shadows and shade for their light. It just takes a long time for the process, and I want it done right.

It seems too, when I’m hunkering down, arms akimbo (yes, Joey, I do!), gettin’ the feel of the words spread out on the screen in their proper places…..is when Tony asks me a question, or, more likely, reads part of the paper to me; or Roku wants to lie on my lap. And, they come first, my friends.

So, let's see, we left off after our fab farm feast in Burlington, VT. We headed straight for Stowe, VT, on the recommendation of both my long time work pal, Pat Johnson-Perez, and Spencer. Stowe not only has the honor of having the von Trapp family as residents (say what?!), but theBenandJerry’sfactoryistheretoo. I said it fast, I bet you couldn’t understand it. BEN AND JERRY’S FACTORY IN STOWE, VT! But we didn’t stop because we can’t turn around in so many parking lots. OK, so we continued to Stowe proper and were mildly impressed. It is cute, but I think really cute when the leaves turn or there’s snow. Mara later confirmed these two insights as being correct.

By then you’re about halfway through Vermont – skinny state! Beautiful drive in the country, mostly. One cool thing about VT – no billboards or big signs on the road. On to New Hampshire! Another skinny dude. We stayed at a club place in Ossipee. As usual, took too damn long to get there and it vastly oversold the amenities, but…Dick the maintenance guy was very friendly and helpful. It was a one-nighter so we were fine with it. New Hampshire is beautiful too, very new-englandy. ‘Cause it’s in New England! And so are we! Whooo hoooo! And by NH, the “accents” are coming on strong. “Cah” and “pahk” are the most identifiable. As we were leaving the Beaver Hollow Campground in Ossipee, I forgot to put the step in and we jimmy-jammed it on a big old rock, making it unusable. TC gets out his trusty comealong and yanks it into a semblance of its former self, but boy was it hurting. I am secretly please – no I didn’t do it on purpose! –because it’s needed a motor for a long, long time. Then it rolls in and out as the door opens so that you can’t leave it out. Yay! We Google am RV repair place near the Cape and plan on getting a step, among other repairs, while there. Perfect.

Leaving Beaver Hollow opened up another day from hell. If I had known, I would have done the Beaver another day. Didn’t expect it, didn’t want it, got it anyway. We used Gertie (GPS) to make it a more fluid day, minus some of the more challenging backroads we faced the day before. Oh, there are no newly paved roads in either VT or NH. Hell on RV, car and tow dolly. Our plan was to be in Wompatuck State Park that night, the 24th, and then it would be a quick trip to Kamper’s Haven in Dennisport on Cape Cod the 25th. We would then have two days to hang with my oldest sister Maureen, flying in from Denver with my niece Kendra, her husband Aaron and 3 year old cutey-patootey daughter Cierra; her son Phillip, the one getting married, and his bride Sharolta; Mara and Spencer; and the three Sandoval kids’ Aunt Kathy, and their cousins, Maria and Julio. I have been looking forward to this for about a year, and can hardly wait.

So, we are toodling along in NH, heading for Mass, when we get a call from Kamper’s Haven, saying that they’re canceling our reservations as they are being mandatorily evacuated due to Hurricane Irene. Huh?! What hurricane? OK, no place to stay, yuck, get the books and atlas out, yeah, there’s a State Park just south of Boston. Called for res, no, they don’t take them outside a 24 hour notice. On we go. We stopped at the NH/Mass state line at the info center and figured out that we should take the beach route. We’d still be in Boston at an ungodly time – around 4:00 PM – but that’s alright. It was a heavenly drive, beautiful roads, gorgeous and quaint and OLD towns/villages/townships. It went on and on. And on. I flipped out, completely shutting down, couldn’t speak anymore. Tony happily driving through Salem – THE Salem – of witchcraft and pious religious a-holes! THE SALEM!!! I think what happened is that my WWU history degree circa 1988 kicked into my hard drive, and I couldn’t take it anymore - going through, always through a town; watching the oldest cemetaries in the country fly by with nary a picture from any of my three apparatuses ; time ticking away, must get to campground!, never, ever stopping.

Tony, on the other hand, is so childishly deeeeeelighted with our trip that dark day, so moved by Ipswich and Lynn and Salem, that he stops listening to my navigational course. Well, let’s face it, he just stops listening to ME because he’s so tickled pink with himself and what’s going on around him. I finally bitch that I asked him to stop 15 minutes ago and he’s passed up every long spot on the street that would have accommodated us; that he can figure out how to get where we’re going. He says, “Uh, you’re burned out? I did forget to stop.” I grabbed a teeny-tiny Coke Zero, laid on the couch with my eyes closed, let him drive. Finished with my caffeine, I returned to my seat, but could not find my voice. Shocking to some of you, I know. Others are wishing it had happened when I was with them. I find it debilitating and humiliating, but it is what it is. I tried to just stay out of the way without speaking venom. I couldn’t even enjoy the “Big Dig” in Boston, which wasn’t a tunnel the last time we were there! We slowly rolled through Boston, made our way 35 miles south, to Wompatuck State Park.

Got through the rest of the night with difficulty, but the next day was grand again. This park is the bomb! I’ve camped a lot, and this is probably the nicest park I’ve stayed at. Huge spaces, lots of trees, tons of trails, a natural spring, and about ten minutes from Hingham. Love it. So, we sign up for two nights, eventually three, would have stayed four…getting ahead of myself. We’re signing up for the third night, and the camp guy says, “Well, we may close tomorrow due to the hurricane.” What?! He didn’t really think so, never have before, but they did. Came by the next morn and informed us we’d have to move along the next day by noon. Huh…where do we go? We went to Hingham and looked around, then to Weymouth (Way’muth). Found a pizza place that said we could hunker down there. As we’re eating pizza Tony says, “We should look for a Masonic Lodge.” Bingo! I find one in Hingham that we had gone by earlier, get their website up and Tony reluctantly asks for help. They, of course, are delighted. I want to know if this is when the secret shit begins.....handshakes, butt rubs, goat kissing. He says it could include the first one!

Old Colony Lodge’s Secretary, Bob Olssen, hooked us up with Senior Steward Steve Tower at the Lodge the next morning after eight. Extremely helpful and cooperative, even gave us power, and a key, should we need to take shelter inside their sturdy brick building. Very cool, this Masonry. The Lodge itself has been in existence since 1829. They were in the process of getting a new elevator in, and a lot of carpeting and inside/outside painting done. Grand Poopaw shows up on his rounds in October and they were hustling. The Grand Master wears a tri-corner hat! I like it!

So, we’re snuggled in, no ac but it had cooled by then due to the hurricane weather looming. We took off for our 5:39 Cape Cod wedding at 3 on Saturday, made it there around 4:45. No traffic issues, although there were a lot of people leaving the Cape. It was a cool drive, nothing like I thought. You can’t see any water on either side, just trees. And there seems to be quite a few big towns, which I didn’t expect. Never saw a beach, but lots of lobster rolls for sale. God, I love a good lawbstuh roll!!!
Made it with a shuttle to the wedding house – an classic cape in the woods. Lovely place, beautiful set up. My sister and family are with us, and I’m happy, happy. Catered with organic food and it was yummy. When they cleared the floor for dancing, I told Phil we had to get a shuttle back to our car, as we still had an hour plus drive ahead, and of course had left Roku the kitty-boy alone for six hours. Gotta run! Zipped back in the stealth of night, listening to Joy Brown – I thought she was…gone – almost killed ourselves missing an exit. Back home to Blue and Roku.

Since Sunday was “the day” to get Irene up our collective ass, I planned an all day read/sleep/eat. I did as planned. Tony stayed up doing word puzzles, reading newspapers and talked to his Masonic friends and his beloved Nic and Pat (bro and sis in law) all day. My other sister Dawn had given me a gift certif for a Nook book, and I am devouring it! It’s called The Colony, by Anne Rivers Siddons. Delicious. So, we watched the rain come in torrents, the wind blow in huge gusts, and we slept and ate, ate and slept. Also delicious.The next morning, Monday the 29th, was sunny and glorious. We called Wompatuck to see if they were open (NEED…..SHOWER…..NOW!), no. We called Kamper’s Haven for same – no electricity. Hm, what to do?

So, we’re snuggled in, no ac but it had cooled by then due to the hurricane weather looming. We took off for our 5:39 Cape Cod wedding at 3 on Saturday, made it there around 4:45. No traffic issues, although there were a lot of people leaving the Cape. It was a cool drive, nothing like I thought. You can’t see any water on either side, just trees. And there seems to be quite a few big towns, which I didn’t expect. Never saw a beach, but lots of lobster rolls for sale. God, I love a good lawbstuh roll!!!
Made it with a shuttle to the wedding house – a classic cape in the woods. Lovely place, beautiful set up. My sister and family are with us, and I’m happy, happy. Catered with organic food and it was yummy. When they cleared the floor for dancing, I told Phil we had to get a shuttle back to our car, as we still had an hour plus drive ahead, and of course had left Roku the kitty-boy alone for six hours. Gotta run! Zipped back in the stealth of night, listening to Joy Brown – I thought she was…gone – almost killed ourselves missing an exit. Back home to Blue and Roku.

Since Sunday was “the day” to get Irene up our collective asses, I planned an all day read/sleep/eat fest for one Jackie Beddo. I did as planned. Tony stayed up doing word puzzles, reading newspapers and talked to his Masonic friends all day. My other sister Dawn had given me a gift certif for a Nook book, and I am devouring it! It’s called The Colony, by Anne Rivers Siddons. And it's taking place pretty much where we have been, and are. Delicious. So, we watched the rain come in torrents, the wind blow in huge gusts, and we slept and ate, ate and slept. Never took my stinky jammies off. Also delicious. The next morning, Monday the 29th, was sunny and glorious. We called Wompatuck to see if they were open (NEED…..SHOWER…..NOW!), no. We called Kamper’s Haven for same – no electricity. Hm, what to do?

Without a shower, I put cornstarch in my hair to sop up the greasy sheen, washed my entire body with my expensive-only-use-in-an-emergency-face-cleaning-cloths and felt brightly, freshly cleansed. And yes, Bernie, I used the face towel to clean my lady parts…..BUT I DID NOT HANG THE TOWEL BACK UP FOR TONY TO USE! Ha ha! Tony cleansed his rock hard body with the same cloths and agreed it was better than nuttin’. We hit the road and did a short trip to Gloucester, where we happened upon a little campground called Cape Ann Campsite. It is a tiered piece of heaven overlooking an Atlantic estuary. Lovely mom, dad, daughter who run it – 100 acres have been used for this purpose since 1949.

I begged off on a trip to Gloucester and environs, as I had to get this rig cleaned up. Grossed me out. The cat box needed its new forever box put in place, which I accomplished. I cleaned all mirrors, floors, walls; scoured our little kitchen; listened to the blues; made the bed; vacuumed. Exxxccellent. Now I can relax.

And then, we took a much needed shower. My hair was so cornstarchy it was heading for the Rastafarian look. I am now clean and happy. Getting ready to take Roku back to his little bug house, and read a mag.

We just finished some Trader Joe’s bool kogi grilled with asparagus, and rice. We didn’t grill the rice though. That wouldn’t work too well. As we were eating, we’re looking out our “dining room” window, grinning and enjoying ourselves. We also talked with a fellow traveler and she filled us in on the local eateries and spots to visit in this area. We are staying for five nights so we have plenty of time to see everything we want to see and experience. Tomorrow I’m taking a yoga class in Gloucester, then we’re going for a walkabout.

Caught up, at last.

8/30/11
Sat in Roku’s house with him for awhile, which was delightful. He’s slightly happier there. After we brought him inside we did a drive-by to Gloucester to find the yoga place and a laundry joint. What a bustling, happy, productive, prosperous town! Houses and houses jammed in together with streets that go willy-nilly. Gothic churches and a working waterfront, a boardwalk that’s busy. Ended up at Ro’s Scoop Ice Cream Shop, talking with the two high school senior girls. I asked them where a person from Seattle would get lobster. One replied, “Well, my dad lobstuhs.” They claim that all the boats sell them to anyone. We want a cooked one in order to make something delish. Tomorrow we search!

New Hampshire...

Early morning and I've pulled my coffee, ready for another. Roku sits by me, listening to the strange birdy sounds, critters, flying stuff through the trees, people walking by. He just wants to go outside and explore without the encumbrance of his harness. I've decided that we have to find a new harness, as this one just bugs him. It throws him off balance, and what is a cat without his graceful movements?

Tony had a great idea to get him safely outside with us - a bug shelter! So, we bought one and will set it up at Cape Cod. That way we can move a picnic table in and be with him while he can roam free in a 12' X 12' space. It has mesh sides so he can see out and at least feel like he's outside. I've got to say, my intuition on bringing him along was correct - I should have found a happy home for him, so that he can live the life outside that he has been. He's not happy, and that's not fair. It's selfish of us to bring him along, when it's torture for him. I won't do it again, unless he shows signs of settling in.

We have been on such a whirlwind to get to Vermont, due to leaving Washington late. We look back on where we've been and Montana, Nebraska, Ohio, etc, seem like ancient history. We definitely live in the present due to the daily travel. I am much more comfortable in one spot for several days, than constantly picking up and moving.

Tony drives almost all the time, as HE LOVES IT! And I don't mind, as I've become a pretty good navigator, and he appreciates that. There are always travel problems during the day, however, no matter who's calling the shots with the map. We've also found that the camping club we bought into oversold their services. Many of the campgrounds are subpar, and that makes for an icky experience. They are also not just the $10.00 a night that we were told, which just fries Ton-Ton's ass.

On the other hand, a few of them are HUGE, with a staff for check in, two pools, clubhouses and community meals. That's been a good experience mostly, if not a little intrusive because you camp cheek to cheek and it's packed. With school starting in a few days to weeks, everything should clear out. We also spend alot of time looking for the damn campsites. Many of them are tucked away down rural roads and can be hard to find. We use GPS alot.

I love having my Galaxy pad and hotspot - lifesaver. I use my netbook for the blog and long emails like this, otherwise I'm on my pad. I also just fired up my Nook and ordered a .99 book - I've been reading two books, but they're not doing it for me (one is Committed and it sucks), and I haven't had time to stop at a Goodwill or even the camping parks book exchanges. I have fallen in love with my Nook again.

We can get some local TV reception, which is really all we need. I like it that it's not a source of zone out for us. We pick up whatever news is happening around us, and the weather, of course. We have had some tremendous storms, and more to come!

The country we are seeing is phenomenal. My fav so far has been NY and VT. I cherish the time I spent with Mara and Spencer - they are living the life I wanted at their age, but doing a much more organized and productive job of it! And the food was terrific. The town they live in, Burlington, is very similar to Boulder, CO or Bellingham - college, organic, beautiful.

We're off to Massachusetts today, a little closer to the Cape. Not sure what route we'll travel today, maybe on highways as yesterday was teeth jarring down country roads. Beautiful, but rough. Every town is so quaint and OLD. The east coast has 100 years on the west coast and it shows in the architecture in both city and country. Unfortunately we travel so fast there is never time to stop and look. My heart aches with wanting to explore a town, especially their graveyards. It's also hard to pull in with the RV - there just aren't pull outs when you want them. When we're in the car it's a different story, of course.

The sun is out and shining through the trees. Can't wait to see the leaves change - I think it will be soul enriching.

The Cape Calls...

Another beautiful day, inside and out, with Mara and Spencer, both at Half Pint Farm, and at The Farmhouse for dinner. We met up at HPF around 11 - they had already had a busy work morning, probably up at 5 or 6. Kind of planned each of our days, for us, laundry, laundry, laundry; for the farmers, farming, deliveries of farm goods, farming, post office, meeting on interns (yes, they're teaching a new generation). We made plans to meet up at 2 at their house. But first, they hooked us up with Adam the blueberry farmer at the place next to HPF:

Yum. I love me some blueberries, and Adam was gracious enough to let us try and glean what was left after a busy summer season. We scored two pints that I plan on using wisely.

We had gobs of laundry that we quickly cleaned and dried at a local laundry place. Also had a little nosh and met an interesting young man who claims to be on a law enforcement task force targeting child abusers. I love the people you meet and their stories. Not sure his was the whole truth, but he was a character.

Met up at the Welton's house and set up my beading station. Put together earrings and a bracelet for beautiful, magnificent Mara, while Spencer gave "the boys" a bath (Smeems, Bullet and play-date friend Buddy, that is)and Mara roasted peppers. When I went outside to the pepper grilling BBQ on their deck to measure and finish Mara's bracelet, we discussed her penchant for peppers. Uh, no, obsession with. She was roasting, bagging and noting their date as quickly as you can with her inordinate skill at this task. My question was, "What do you DO with all these peppers?" Her reply, "Eat them all winter." Me: "Oh, they're for you, not to sell?" She: "Yes, I have to have a freezer full to feel comfortable." Me: "So, it's kind of like a security blanket of peppers?" She: "Yes!" Me: "Is that from your grandmother (Rose)?" She: "Yes, and Aunt Kathy, and dad. It's just what you do at this time of year when the peppers are on."

I love that conversation.

We tootled back to the RV to check on Roku the kitty-boy, with plans for dinner at one of their local favorites, The Farmhouse restaurant in downtown Burlington. We hadn't seen downtown yet, so were excited to look around. Mara needed a dress for Phil and Sharolta's wedding, and Spencer needed a shirt, both of which are available near the restaurant.

Little kitty-boy was very glad to see us, so we put our laundry away and hung with him for a short while. Soon were back on the road to Burlington, mostly lost. Finally parked and found them seated. The Farmhouse is an old McDonalds that was sort of drummed out of this earthy, organic state and city. It serves all local farm food, from animals to greens. We had fun choosing what we wanted to eat and talking, talking, talking. Started with a cheese plate of triple cream, blue and a Taladesia (?) sharp, with crostini. Delish, of course, and all local. I though of my sister Dawn while eating this, as she is a cheese connoisseur, and would have loved this.

I chose pulled pork, Spencer the venison burger, Tony a beef burger and Mara - I think she won the "best, best dinner" - fried chicken, chard and mashed spuds. Uh, yum, on all accounts. My pork had just been pulled from the smoker, and I tell you, it was so simply divine - no BBQ sauce glomped over it to make it taste smokey - just a beautiful shredding of meat. Now, alongside my pork shreds, was a square piece of cornbread. I am leery of cornbread, because I make about the best in the world. This proved worthy. Buttery, crunchy, fall apart delicious. A little slice of cornbread, topped with a blob of pork shred - holy shitskees! HEAVEN!!!!!

And, our conversation was equally delicious. There were so many questions I had about the farm, farming, their friends, the town, their house - and I was able to get answers to all and sundry. We talked some family trash, some family love. Caught up on how we eat, why we eat, what we eat. They are so dedicated to their community eating the freshest food possible. I asked what they "snack" on, what do they reach for when they haven't had a chance to eat all day? No surprise, they shop on a Sunday for the week, and plan every meal and snack. Smart, smart. So the majority of their food is freshly prepared and slow.

For instance, when we rolled into town, by the time we set up our rig and made it to their house, it was 6 or so. Spencer was on the back deck blanching their tomatoes, then processing them into another large pot, in order to be canned in a hot pack. Mara was roasting peppers, eggplant and tomatoes. While all this was happening, Spencer's pizza dough was rising. As an appetizer, they roasted tiny padrone peppers and sprinkled thick sea salt on them. We love these little snacks and will definitely be cooking these up for ourselves.

Um, eggplant? And me? No. Nonononono. We talked about eggplant, and Mara discussed in great emotional and descriptive detail, the beauty of that particular vegetable. I will try ALMOST anything, eggplant being innocuous enough to be included in the list.

Are you reading this Tsha-Tsha???!!! Friend Tsha loves, loves her eggplant - insisting, puzzled, determined that I try it cooked the "right" way. Well, I guess I have my chance now, as IT'S ON THE GRILL READY TO GO ON MY PIZZA. When everything is put together, along with a salad, we sit to chow down. Love it. Beautiful pizza without the globs of cheese, just roasted veggies. And the eggplant, oh the eggplant! Buttery and smokey and delicious. Everything was top o' the mark.

But, today is onward and upward day, deciding whether to stay, or head to the Cape. We THINK we have reservations for the 25th, but can't remember. Due to the time difference, I need to call our camping club and see what day our reservation is for. Regardless, we think we've taken up enough of the Welton's time, and will probably start moving on across a few states, getting closer to the Cape.

Half Pint Farm, Here We Come.....

My beautiful niece and her BG (boy genius) husband Spencer, along with their wiener dogs Mr. Smeems and Bullet, greeted us, feted us, fed us, loved us, conversed in high cerebral content with us, ate alongside us. We feel so pampered and loved, so honored to be their friend and relative.

We busted ass driving to their phenominally beautiful little burg, Burlington, VT, the five days prior to our arrival on August 20th. This was our first real goal, prior to the Cape in a few days. The cause for our rush to their side, is the "farm dinner" that was being held at their...well, 3 acre farm in the Intervale (means the land near a river). The meal was served by a local restaurant, The Kitchen Table, which has a close business relationship with Half Pint Farm (HPF). All of the food served was produced by Mara and Spencer at HPF. Their mission, their well thought out plan, their hopeful desire, is to introduce fresh, organic food to the public. To turn our hearts to the transformative power of good food.

The guests arrived, as Mara says, "About 100 of our biggest fans and friends!" Wonderful, happy, slow food enthusiasts, eager to take part in the farm tour ("What's THAT growing!" "Did you see all the tomatoes they grown?!" (They grow 45 varieties, many heirloom. They live for tomatoes, peppers and eggplants.) "Oh look, a melon!"); to savor the delicious, pure, slooooowwww, organic, food that they had grown. Here's the menu:

OT

Not only did HPF grow the food, they grew and butchered their 83 game hens just three days before the meal. I can hardly describe how delicious these birds were, nestled over the best mashed potatoes this fat ass has ever had. Potatoes they grew.

Here's the fancy table set-up in their hoop house. The plan was to eat by the flower garden:

But a thunder shower threat had us revising our plan to "B". It was lovely and intimate. And the thunder shower did arrive.

And the fabulous dinner fun!

Tony and I waddled away fairly early in order to get back to little Roku. We agreed it was one of the best dinners we've ever had. Kudos, love to our Mara and Spencer.

Can't get away from those ferries.....

First of all, it's been a few days. So I added some pretty pictures to dull the pain of our absence in your lives. Aren't they cool?! They show me on the Lake Champlain Ferry "Plattsburg", heading on a 12 minutes ride to Burlington Vermont. My niece's suggestion, and a very good one. Save us hours of driving and it was beautiful and fun. For those of us interested in ferries, here's a list of the Lake Champlain fleet - fascinating!

http://www.ferries.com/gfx/fleet.pdf

Now I'll back up to August 18th, or "Leaving Buffalo for Hell Day." Is that clear enough? Wings and Niagara Falls were so damn cool - a travel day of beauty and interesting sights, an evening full of excellent wings and those Falls! Does not get any better.

The 18th was our light day, only 125 miles to New York's Thousand Islands and Long Point State Park. Another ride up the coast of Lake Erie, checking out houses and bays and water and backroads. We obviously didn't get the memo that there is no coast road so we were inland; the scenery was mundane and boring; there were no highlights, landmarks, interesting stops on this road. To make it worse, I just didn't pay attention to the roads we needed at a certain point, and what would have taken us to the coast we didn't turn on. Instead we ended up off course with no landmarks in sight - can you hear the banjo playin'? 125 miles turned into a nightmare of not finding a convenient gas station, losing the road we needed (12E, not F!)which ended with personalities being shown the way to Cranky McCranksterville.

One of our biggest problems is turning around. If you take the wrong country road, you can't just turn into a driveway and back up into the road. Blue is 34' with another 10'+ of car and tow dolly. Although Tony has done an amazing job of actually backing up the whole shitteree in a pinch, it is stressful. On this day we waited too long to stop for ice cream and diesel, didn't see the sign to Long Point as it was AT THE ROAD YOU NEED TO TURN ON!, could not find anywhere to turn around. Some homes with turnaround driveways even have signs that say "No public turnaround." We ignored one at a business the other day. We finally had to turn around, so ended up blocking a road, inching back and forth - yes, for your amusement, picture me as Marge on the rear port side of the RV, using arm and hand signals to guide Tony - the only thing he really cares about is not hitting his beloved Sebring. So far I have lead him down the right path with my airtight arm movements. It annoys me to stand back there and signal, as I feel like a wife from 1952, oh yeah, except I'm not wearing a dress, hose and pumps. Check out Lucille Ball in "The Long, Long Trailer" sometime. Not me.

I am burned by now, unable to speak, a little pissed and hurt that I have done such a great job of navigating and now it all seems tossed out the window because of today's delays. Off we drive toward Long Point, and drive, and drive - seems like in circles. It's another 30 minutes to the park, not all that well marked either, little bitty brown signs. I'm cross eyed, Tony is just cross. But at last we arrive, and the park is a stunner. Some of you have see our "living room" pictures on Facebook and know what I mean. Long Point is names such because it's a long, skinny peninsula, so camping is conducted on both sides. The lawns are trimmed, the spaces are on grass, the water is viewed from every camping spot.

We quickly plug in and get outside, Tony in the sun, me in a chair to enjoy the view. And pout a bit, trying to not take everything so personally! Tony wanders over to the table and we're talking about how beautiful, how perfect the park is...and also how awful the drive was today. We expected a short day, but instead had a long, tedious day. I told him I was hurt, he said he wasn't mad....blah, blah, blah. Done deal. We took a long walk later and enjoyed the sunset - stunning.

Here's what we experienced:

It became better, because of this beautiful park.

Hellooooooooooooo Buffalooooooooooooooooooo

Another fantastic travel day. Up early as usual thanks to Roku, so to thank him we went to the picnic table and watched the day come in. He enjoyed it for once, did alot of sniffing of air. Daylight did not improve "Creepy Campground" and we couldn't wait to get out of there. But first, the shower test - because of the rundown shape of this park, we shuddered a the thought of what their showers could possibly look like. My vision was large spiders and bugs, long hair in wads on the floor, dirt crammed in the corners. And surprise! Clean and tidy, no bugs. Some hair on the floor but nothing I couldn't avoid.

On the road to Gasport, NY, aka Buffalo and Niagara Falls. AKA Anchor Bar hot wings!!!!! Very excited. My plan was to save time and head up on the highways, cut over to Chautauqua, NY, which I have always wanted to experience. They are currently having their lecture and art series and I would love to have visited some of the events...but we missed the exit. There was alot of road work being done and some of the exits just weren't available.

We did make Pennsylvania, however, or at least a little corner of it. We actually passed into the state halfway across a causeway:

Missing another exit, we passed into New York via a toll booth at State Line. You don't pay the toll there, but you tell them where you're going, and they give you a punched slip to pay...when you get there. She did warn us, as we were heading to Buffalo, that the toll would be $11.80. Yikes. On we went, driving totally on the freeways, until we got to Buffalo, where we relied on my Galaxy for directions, which I thought was very convoluted. As a side note, we are currently disciplining Gertie on our GPS, as she has behaved very badly recently, repeating herself in a kind of rap-stutter, directing us to weird places, constantly berating us and shouting for us to "U-turn, U-turn!!!" Geez Gertie, take a load off already! To pull her back in line, we shut her down until she could behave.

It seems we spend alot of time looking for our nightly RV park, and this day was no exception. We had the added pleasure of watching the sky darken alarmingly, and knew to expect a hell of a storm. It rained buckets, shot out lightening, thundered uproariously while we drove. Found the Niagara Heartland RV Park:

After paying triple what we normally would for our RPI membership space, we quickly set up, unloaded the car, realized the electrical is for 50 not 30 amp, unloaded and rinsed the car for our later journey. During the middle of this activity if flipping dumped on us, so we huddled inside until it cleared.

After kissing up the cat and assuring him we'd be back later, off we went to Niagara Falls. Top down, soft air blowing, we gave Gertie another chance and she graciously found our way to the Falls. Parked - like Rushmore, no fee for the Falls, but parking is $10.00 - and a short walk led us to spectacular views of not only the Falls, but Toronto.

Although neither of us ever expected to visit Niagara Falls, we're glad we had to opportunity to do so. It is a beautiful experience, and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. But.....wings were calling.

I insisted one of our visits while in Buffalo would be to eat wings at either the Anchor Bar, or Duffs. Both claim to be the originator of the Buffalo hot wings, with Duff's recently winning a "wing off" on the food channel. My choice was made by which was closer, and that was the Anchor Bar.

And by the way, I have heard my whole life what a dump Buffalo is, to avoid it at all cost, it's just a dirty little town. Nothing could be further from the truth, it's delightful and old and has great bones. The freeways were great to travel on, as well as the side roads, and there is just a ton of stuff to see. Plus it's right on Lake Erie! How can that be wrong?! We loved it.

Twenty minutes later we pulled into Jackie's idea of heaven - the Anchor Bar for hot wings. Place was packed outside and in, the matre'd gave Tony a bad time about his name...pronouncing it like a NY gangster. We opted for the real bar, as there was no wait. Our beautifully aged and gracious (all business) bartender took our order - excellent Arnold Palmer Marcy, thank you! Tony, not being a wing fan at all, had a buffalo burger. We enjoyed the ambiance of the old place, watched the customers come and go - you can't sit at the bar unless you're 18, but you can be IN the bar under 18 - which was the case with a baby. I ordered double spicy wings (20 each), then texted everyone I knew who would appreciate the experience.

My first bite. Hm. I can describe it as perfect, but that word does not do these beauties justice. They are lightly crisp, meaty and juicy, and the spicy barely heated up your lips. Dipped in blue cheese with a celery stick chaser, I am not sure when I've had such a perfect food morsel to eat. Both the "drummies" and the "flats" were delicious. Tony tried a "flat" and stated, "I'll have to re-think not liking chicken wings." They are that good that they turned him! I finished half, boxed up the rest, left a humongous tip. Out the door into the balmy night in a bad neighborhood, the place had pretty much cleared out.

These are shots of heading back home, which was done on a different route, very pleasant:

And here are some random shots from the road:

Just 125 miles to Long Point State Park in NY's Thousand Islands. Tomorrow will be around 300 and a killer - but with a lovely reward at the end of this part of our journey - the Welton's!!! Mr Smeems and Bullet!