Is the Price Right?

It's Thanksgiving and like a good American, I'm at the Price Is Right in Las Vegas. Cheers to non-traditional holidays! Happy birthday, Jordan!

Viva Las Vegas!

Today I'm heading to Las Vegas for my cousin's birthday but I'm feeling pretty terrible-stuffed up head, runny nose, sore throat, etc. I'm going to try blogging via Android. We'll see how it goes.

Please Come to Boston

aYesterday, we loaded up the family truckster and headed into the city . . . Boston. Steph, Ryan, Nora, Will and I saw the sites of Boston and spent most of the day walking around. We walked the Freedom Trail, which took several hours and covered most of the major historical sites. After lunch at Bertucci's, we roamed the Boston Common and Boston Public Garden. We then strolled over to Newbury Street, a high end shopping area-Hermes, Chanel, Armani, etc. It was a good day with lots of walking and seeing of the sites. Boston seems like a very nice little city.

The picture on the left is of Nora and I hiding behind headstones in Granary Burying Ground. This is the place where Paul Revere, Sam Adams, the Boston Massacre victims, and maybe Mother Goose.

Today, I'm heading to Rhode Island and Conneticut. The plan is to do the Cliff Walk in Newport and then buzz over to Mystic, Connecticut. I'll then begin my long trek home. I'll probably end up spending the night in Pennsylvania or Ohio.

Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont . . . Check!

I'm a few days behind on my blogging as I have been pretty darn busy.

On Friday, I headed up to Ogunquit, Maine, a coastal town. During the winter, I would imagine this town is about the size of Wheatfield. In summer, however, holy traffic jam, Batman!

Ogunquit has a paved walkway along the shoreline called the Marginal Way. The Marginal Way is about a mile and a half long. As I walked, the weather was hot and the sun was shining. I was hot, sweaty, and desperately in need of water. Luckily for me, at the end of the Marginal Way, are two restaurants. I stopped for some refreshment and some lunch-a lobster roll. I found the lobster roll to be . . . marginal. It consisted of a toasted hot dog bun about 4-5 inches in length, filled with lobster, and nothing else. It was kind of boring for $18. All it came with were a few chips and a pickle. But, I was hungry and thirsty and it hit the spot. While I was at the restaurant, I used the facilities to make my trip to Maine official and change into my swimsuit. On the walk back, I stopped at one of the small beaches found between the rocks and relaxed for about an hour. Below are the pictures from Maine.



























After an hour on the beach in Maine, I decided it was time to get in a little hiking at Mt. Agimenticus. It was supposed to be a short mile hike up to the summit. As I was driving there, I couldn't help but notice that I seemed to be climbing in altitude. Whoops! I accidentally drove to the summit. Apparently I missed a sign along the way for the hike to the top. Once I reached the top, I did a short hike and enjoyed the view. Here is a picture of the view from Mt. A, as it is called locally (and who could blame them).














On the way back from Maine, I decided I better go ahead and stop in New Hampshire and make that state visit official. I ended up picking up a delicious Strawberry Shortcake Ice Cream bar and headed back home for the evening.

Yesterday, I decided it was time to visit Vermont. This was a little longer drive, a little over 2 hours. While in Vermont, I headed to Jelly Mill Falls. I lounged there for just under 2 hours and (unfortunately) met an old hippie that I will refer to as Mr. Mushroom (as I think he may have been on 'shrooms). Mr. Mushroom was probably in his mid-sixties and was wearing sandals, a ball cap over his straggley, gray, shoulder length hair and swimming trunks. He was sporting a big buddah belly and an aire of strangeness. He started talking to me and informed me that he'd been feeling overwhelmed by the amount of poetry coming into his mind lately. He then decided to recite one of the poems which ended with the line, "I swear to Uncle Chi!" He then proceeded to describe the slippery nature of the rocks and promptly proceeded to fall on his ass in a puddle of water. I attempted to end the conversation but he was persistent for about the next 15 minutes. Then, luckily for me, other people showed up and he was able to re-direct his focus to them and the remainder of my time at the falls was peaceful. I spent the most of my time reading my biking, hiking, and tourist books as well as the regular book I'm reading (Outliers). Pictures of the waterfall are below. The rock that has the yellow backpack and blue jacket is the rock I was lounging on.














I then planned to make my way to Mt. Snow to do a little hiking. A detour and 3 miles on a mountainous dirt logging road with steep grades later and I scrapped those plans. On the way back to the Boston area, I did pass over the French King Bridge (see picture below) which is over the Connecticut River. Which French King? I don't know. It didn't say.














When I got back to Steph's area, I decided to go to the deCordova Museum and Sculpture Park. Sculpture is my favorite form of art and I really enjoy abstract sculpture and thinking about what it could be. There were some really thought provoking ones at deCordova. I wish I could have seen them all but the sun set and the park closed. See pictures of some sculptures below.

Whale tale or Eucharistic chalice?


















Earth made of brick with slate shingles?













Giant mallet?













You could get a stick out of the cup on the end and play the pipes.













Stacks of newspapers around 8 feet tall with ferns growing out of the top.

I made it back from NOLA and am now in . . . New England!

I did a fairly poor job of blogging while I was in New Orleans. We got busy and in the evenings, we were hanging out with our new friend, Royal Rick. So, yes, I did make it home.

A few weeks after getting home from NOLA, I went camping with my family including my sister and her family, who were visiting. I have always liked the day and evening parts of camping but could never manage to get a good night's sleep. Whether sleeping in a tent or pop-up camper, I seemed to wake up whenever the first person in the campground made any noise. I also seemed to never be very comfortable on either an air mattress or camper mattress. Well, let me just say, camping in my brother's air conditioned RV was a whole new experience! The only thing that woke me up was my nephews and that usually wasn't until a sensible time in the morning (except when Isaac would wake everyone up at 3 a.m.). I would definitely camp in an RV again. I think I'd really enjoy taking a year off from school and travel around the country in a small motor home, seeing all the sights and reading lots of books.

The camping trip was at a local state park, Indiana Dunes State Park. Again, I was surprised at how nice the campground was. Despite having camped at many of Indiana's state parks, I had never stayed at the Dunes' campground. I must say, the highlight of the week was helping Caleb master his ability to ride a bike without training wheels. He was very excited and kept making observations about other children riding bikes. "Barb, two of those kids had training wheels and one didn't." "Barb, did you see that girl still had training wheels?" He obviously now felt pride in his new found membership in the No Training Wheels Club. Below are some pictures from that trip.

























































So, as my title suggests, I am now in New England. After entering my 8th month of maximum stress in my position as teachers' union president, I decided I better get out of dodge for a little fun before school starts. One would think that the bologna at school would calm down a little over summer but that has absolutely not been the case. Thus, I made up my mind to go see the Badlands in South Dakota. It's been several years since I went to a new state so it was time. As I looked up accommodations, I discovered the Sturgis motorcycle rally would be in full force during my stay. Thus I decided to change my plans. My cousin lives just north of Boston in Billerica, Massachusetts and visiting her would allow me to add 6 more states to my map of visited states. So, with just a few days notice, I decided to head to New England.

I left two days ago, after teaching a class to teachers all day. I drove for 6 hours after class and got some shut eye at the Sleep Inn in Austinburg, Ohio. Sleep in I did and I headed out around 8:00 Central/9:00 Eastern. A mere 9 hours later, I landed at Steph's.

After getting a good night's sleep, I decided to head out this morning and explore one of the rails to trails paths. According to a book I bought, New England has over 600 miles of rails to trails. This morning's trail was the Bruce Freeman Bikeway and I'd highly recommend it. Newly paved, clear, and with port-a-pots, it was a biker's dream. Lots of lovely scenery. I got around 14 miles in.

I returned to Steph's for lunch and a nap. I guess I was a little tired because I slept for two and a half hours. After my nap and before dinner, I decided to head out to Walden Pond. THE Walden Pond. The Henry David Thoreau "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears" Walden Pond. I did the walk around the pond (around a mile and a half) and spent some time just sitting. Steph told me before I left that people swim across the pond. I pictured some folks randomly doing that to challenge themselves. Boy was I surprised, when I arrived, and saw probably 30 people making their way across the pond and several more on the shore who had just finished or were ready to head out. This is my kind of place! Historical that induces fitness challenges! As Kev knows, I'm more of a do-er than a see-er so to know people swim across this historical body of water really caught my fancy. I hope to go back and swim it myself.

The quirky thing I found at Walden Pond was that every little bit along the trail, there are several large stones forming steps leading down to the water and there were almost always clothes hanging on the fence or trees near the rocks. This was true all the way around the pond. Again, my kind of place-rip off the clothes and jump in! And the water felt very warm.

While there, I also saw a mock version of Thoreau's cabin as well as a marker of where the cabin actually was. Next to that spot is a large pile of stones. When people travel to this spot, they frequently bring their own stone and add it to the pile. Some have messages scrawled on them.

After Walden Pond, I felt like I better find a bookstore and buy Walden. Luckily, Steph had loaned me her GPS and I could just look up the nearest mall. I'm really enjoying this GPS. It lead me right to a two story Barnes & Noble where I picked up The Portable Thoreau (Walden and poems) as well as New England Hiking, Rails-Trails New England, and New England Waterfalls. I am now officially set for the remainder of this trip!

I'm not sure what I'm doing tomorrow but I may go to Maine and check out the craggily shoreline, lobster rolls, and hit a bathroom to make my visit official.

Fourth in the Quarter

Yesterday was the Fourth of July and, after a full day of being dedicated NEA members and being all about the business, we relaxed on the roof-top terrace of our hotel in the French Quarter. JoAn's daughter Amy and I swam for a while and we then watched the fireworks over the Mississippi River. After the fireworks, Amy, Turner, and I took a brief stroll on Bourbon St. which, was unfortunately packed with middle and high school age youngsters and thus we did not stay long.

On our way back to the hotel, we stopped by our friend Royal Rick's restaurant. After visiting with him for a while, we called it a night.

Today will be a very long day. We have 89 new business items to debate and vote on in the next two days and it's going to be brutal. I definitely need to get some sleep but I really don't see that happening.

Yes, I'm still alive!

Well, its been a busy few days down in New Orleans but I am now sitting in a meeting and have time for an update.

On Wednesday, I did eventually arrive at Louis Armstrong Airport . . . about 5 and a half hours later than expected. When I arrived, my roommate and good friend JoAn took me over to a great little cajun restaurant, Royal House Restaurant. The food was great, we've been back several times, and are now friends with many of staff members including manager Royal Rick.

After dinner, we headed down to Bourbon Street which fortunately/unfortunately is only one block from our hotel. I say fortunately because it's really cool to be that close. I say unfortunately because being that close to cheap booze and entertainment can endanger one's ability to get one's rear out of bed this in the morning. Bourbon St. was different than I expected. The road is closed to traffic and people just walk up and down the street, chatting and going in and out of establishments. In addition to watering holes and gentlemen's clubs, there are establishments with banks of slushy machines in a variety of flavors. Of course these slushies contain some type of strong alcohol. One can also get a frozen hurricane at these shops. I sampled several of these beverages, met new friends from Texas and Toronto and got in late.

The next day, JoAn and I headed back to Royal House for a late lunch. Eventually, my friend Mike Turner also arrived after a long drive from Monroe City, IN (see picture left). In the early evening, we attended a reception for all convention attendees from Indiana. Afterwards, we walked down to Jackson Park and St. Louis Cathedral. Eventually, our group again found ourselves on Bourbon Street. Many hours, new friends from Maryland, Arizona, the Essence Festival, and the military, and several beverages later, we turned in for the night.

Friday was a take it easy day/I cannot go to Bourbon St again day where I just relaxed, spent time at the pool, and ate more delicious food at Royal House. Saturday was a fun-killer. Oops, I meant Saturday is when the meetings started. We were in meetings from 7 a.m. until about 5:30 p.m.. We decided to just stick around the hotel and spent a large portion of evening on the roof of the hotel enjoying the evening and the nice breeze.

Today is another day of meetings followed by fireworks viewing from the roof of the hotel in the evening. We may also meet up with some of our new friends.

Well, shit!

Here was the plan for today: catch the 9:30 a.m. flight from O'hare to New Orleans and be sipping a hurricane in the French Quarter by noon. Here's what actually happened: traffic on 294 was worse than usual, one of the parking lot trams was broken, the line to check in barely moved (although it did not have many people), and United Airlines apparently has some policy that if you don't check in 45 minutes in advance, they give away your seat. I couldn't have been more shocked since I once arrived at the ticket counter like 20 minutes before my flight with no ID and still made that flight. Now,two and a half hours and a pair of $10 drinks later, I'm still at O'hare. They charged me $100 penalty for having to take the next flight and also charged me to check my bag. Only 3 hours til my flight. Woo hoo! The lesson learned? When Pauly Fasshauer says to take 294, take 90. :)

Pure Michigan

Yesterday, my brother, sister-in-law, nephews (ages 3 & 5) and I took a trip up to Michigan for a day of downhill skiing. The day began with the mini-van arriving at my door early in the morning. I had all my gear packed up as well as a pillow and blanket. After an exhausting week at school, I planned on sleeping during the two hour drive. That plan was quickly derailed with questions from the third row of the mini-van such as, "Barb, why are you sleeping?" "Barb, is your nap done yet?" "Barb, can I have a napkin?" "Barb, here, I'm done with my breakfast sandwich." "Barb, when are you going to get married?" So, I slept just a few minutes here and there on the drive up.

When we arrived at our destination, Bittersweet Ski Resort, it was quickly discovered that the nephews' snow pants had been forgotten at home. We headed into the lodge to see if they had any size 4 and 5 snow pants for sale. While they did have snowpants for sale, they were both size ten with a price tag of $80. With few options available, it became apparent that the boys will be wearing these high dollar pants for the next 5 winters of their lives. After fashioning a belt for each nephew out of cord cut from my coat and some major rolling up of the legs, we were on our way to the slopes and by slopes I mean bunny hill.

As this was my first time downhill skiing (I have previously water and cross-country skied), I was in need of a little instruction. Unfortunately, the instruction consisted of my brother saying, "Ok, we're going to take the boys up and ski them down. C'mon!" So, with those extensive instructions, I rode the conveyor belt up and attempted to ski down. I only fell twice and was able, with a little difficulty, to get back up. The second time down the bunny slope, I fell and was stranded like a turtle on its back for at least 5 minutes if not longer. I just could not get back up. Finally, a guy gave me a hand and helped me back up. At this point, I was sick to my stomach, drenched in sweat (21 degrees outside), and exhausted from trying to stand up over and over and over and falling right back down over and over and over. I decided to take a little break and practice falling down and getting back up. I didn't want to get on the main slopes and not be able to get back up. Well, the practice did not work because every time I tried to get back up, a nice stranger came over to give me a hand. After a while, I heard a lady holler at her son to just unclip one of his boots when he fell. This became my game plan and my brother and I headed over to the ski lift to go to the top of the slopes.

At this point, I was a little frightened as my experience on the bunny slopes could have been in no way considered a success. My sister-in-law assured me however, that it was a lot easier on the real hill than on the bunny slopes. As she is no professional skier, I believed her and we headed up. On the ride up, my brother gave me lots of instructions, most of which I paid no attention to. They were things like, "When you want to go right, pick up your right ski a little and turn your waist to the right and you might want to push down on the inner edge of your left ski and blah blah blah." Which I interpreted as, "If you get going to fast, just fall over and stop." One piece of advice that I should have listened to a little better was to stand up when the lift reached the summit. For some reason, I didn't fully stand up and the lift turned to head back down the mountain with me still sitting in the chair. This tripped the emergency cord and stopped the whole lift. So, I attempted to finagle myself off the lift while dozens of people were suspended in the air wondering what dumbass had not managed to get off the lift.

After more instructions, most of which never fully sank in, my brother and I headed down the slope. It was much easier than the bunny hill and I had an easier time getting up when I fell. After a few times, I was going pretty fast down the slope and was pretty sure I looked like an Olympic skier with snow flying each time I made a turn. As my confidence grew, I decided it was time to take a few more risks. At one point, I was zipping downhill and decided that I should take the small hill with a steep drop that you cannot see the bottom of. Halfway through that adventure, I decided it was not such a smart decision, as only an hour ago I was flailing like a turtle on the bunny slope, and I wiped out in a truly spectacular fashion. I'm not talking a fall over. I'm talking a roll down the hill with appendages flying. I eventually recovered and, when I made met up with my brother at the bottom, he said, "Why is your face covered in snow?" I guess my big wipe-out wasn't such a secret.

After being at Bittersweet for 6 and a half hours, it was time to head home. The older nephew (age 5) wants to come back and take a skiing class and learn how to snowboard. The younger nephew (age 3) said he had fun but next time, "I'll just stay home." The boys and I slept most of the way home and I was starting to get sore by the time we got back. This morning, I hit a new level of soreness and am sore where I didn't previously know muscles even existed. I'm ready to go again though.

Vail, here we come!