Back Home Again in Indiana? Sister Act 2

 

Wednesday, Sept 3, 2014  Comfort Inn Rm 125 Rochester, Indiana

The sunset last night in Ashtabula was just magnificent—what a Maxfield Parish display!  Went to sleep around 10:30—me with the A/C turned down in compromise, Barb with the extra blanket she ordered up from the desk around 6pm. She watched TV huddled in bed with the bedclothes up to her ears—LOL   I on the other hand was just comfortable and actually got warm during the night. Woke up at 330 with a splitting headache and didn’t get back to sleep til around 5 after two Aleve—most unusual for me. We arose at 7, got ready for the day, packed the car, ate a well balanced breakfast and headed out on the road about the same time as yesterday.

Bill had called last night and reminded me of the route we took to Columbus to miss all the Cleveland mess and so we followed 271 to I 71 and picked up 30 West at Mansfield.  Didn’t take many pix because those who’ve traveled with us before know the scenery and those who haven’t—well most of Ohio and Indiana look pretty much the same—corn on one side of the road and soybeans to replenish the nitrogen the corn ate up last year, on the other.

I always take crazy shots as we go along—I missed a great one yesterday—a piece of machinery with the brand name Vermeer. It even had an arm hanging off to the side—was going to post it and say there used to be an earring, pearl, I believe, hanging from it—but alas, I was too slow and you must use your imaginations.  Today, I managed to get some shots of a train car on a flatbed, not once but twice. The flatbed had Quebec plates as did the cab which was from Montreal. The car in back of the wide load appeared to be an official escort car from New York State—governmental?  Is there still a Bombardier train car company in upstate NY or did they close it and return manufacturing to Quebec?

Unlike yesterday, when we just wanted to get the whole trek to Buffalo out of the way, we took our time and stopped in a nice quiet rest area to have a healthy picnic lunch. Note my sales face for Joseph’s flax, oat and wheat mini pita breads!  We walked about to stretch and took in the beauty of a gigantic shelf mushroom with weeds growing through it, several very strange wasp creations ( though it wasn’t until we looked a the pix that we realized a few of the residents were checking us out-shivers)))  and picked up several of what I think may be black walnuts. When we resumed our drive there was the train car again—he must have stopped somewhere, too, since we’d seen him way back near Cleveland originally. Shortly after getting on the road again 30 heads to Fort Wayne—we don’t like urban traffic so I directed us to go through Van Wert, Ohio on rte 244 to enter Indiana at Decatur. Van Wert is the start of the Lincoln Highway but we did not follow it for any distance before we headed out into farm country. The clouds were just beautiful in Decatur, which is not and in Markle, whose water tower gave us a few chuckles. For a town that would be unreMARKable, we left grinning and happy after just the very few minutes it took us to go through. This is why we love these backways—you’d never see such an enjoyable sight on the interstates.

We had decided this leg of the journey after lunch finishing our beverages—tea for Barb, water for me—we even called and made  our reservations for the night in Rochester Indiana.   After passing through Decatur and Markle, 244 took us to Huntington, In which is the home of Dan Quayle, though we’d not known this. There Is a museum but it was now almost 230 and we were not interested in museuming it, no matter the subject. I must say he comes from a very affluent town—those mansions are now mostly funeral homes but some of those prairie farms must have brought a pretty penny for in town winter homes.

From Huntington we took Indiana 5 north to South Whitely—Indiana’s favorite home town, they claim. It is nice and pleasant with tree lined sidewalks and homes with front porches looking out upon the scene. But there was nary a soul on sidewalk or porch—not at all as American Graffiti would indicate. Maybe on the Fourth of July—but not today!

As we drove along we found a plot of Sunflowers—thank heaven. All I’ve heard from Barb is –I didn’t see sunflowers in the midwest or moose in the west last time. Well, she’s wrong—we did see sunflowers in Kansas in 2000 around Sept 5—not my fault they’d already been hit by frost. Hopefully, we’ll see many more this time before frost hits.And by the way, unlike Bill, Barb does not clean the windshield of bugs in order for me to create these photographic masterpieces!!! As for moose, well, she saw elk and American bison and even one Mountain Sheep late at night on a hairpin curve coming down from Rushmore—don’t know why she’s so greedy—lol

Soon we were in Rochester but we were coming in on Indiana 14 and the directions were for I 33 to Indiana 25 north. We passed 25 north but I said no, I think it is throught town—so we followed 14 west toward 33 but that was 25 south—I had her turn around –but then realized –yeah that is 25 south but it is 25 north when you come off 33—I hate when I get too circular in plotting course. So she was going to turn around again, but we’d seen the melon stand so we stopped, got a melon ( which smells sooooo good) and then turned around. And of course, came to the motel. Lost about 10 minutes but gained dinner.

Must go—we had them bring in a fridge so going to have cantaloupe, cheese and wine for dinner—melon no points, wine is 5 and cheese is one—and I still have 13 points left –so maybe two glasses of wine. We got here at 515, it is 630 now and it is time to eat and get comfy.

May check out Rensselear tomorrow though we are a day early for the Little Cousin Jasper Festival. Who knows we may have to spend the night. Until then—have a terrific evening. The Nutsy Sisters in the Midwest—Kathy and Barb.

PS—ohhh, soon we’ll have the Everly Bros singing Illinois to start the next CD—can’t wait!

Sisters on the Road Again!

 

Well, after 14 years, my kid sister and I are on the road again doing a two month cross country trip.  Some things are the same, we are sisters and we still love to travel. Some things are different: We have left Nellie, the Bonneville home, she just eats too much and have taken a Pontiac Vibe instead. We are older by a few years and get stiff in funny places, many of which we weren’t even aware of in 2000. But by and large, it is going to be a fun trip. There will be old haunts and new discoveries, all accompanied by four CD’s which I compiled especially for this excursion, Such lovely ditties as K-K-K-Katie and Bar-Bar-Bar- Barbara Ann and Kate Smith singing Indiana along with Rosalind Russell and Edie Adams singing Why Did I Leave Ohio, and,of course, the Andrews Sisters singing the Pennsylvania Polka.

Bill took me down to Saratoga yesterday morning—at 9 am. It was foggy and quiet in the villages through which we passed. Traffic was light, UNTIL, Bill made a right hand turn onto 149 out of Fort Ann!!! I said, you are going to Lake George on Labor Day?  He said, Lake George is dead now. Uh-huh, after covering 1/4 mile in 10 minutes he turned around and, fortunately driving with a native, we were able to take Bay Rd into Glens Falls and head down deserted Glen St to Rte 9 and so to Barb’s.

OMG—hot, and humid. Unbearable! But we grabbed a late lunch before Bill headed back to Vermont. He stopped in Hartford to visit Bets at her new digs. Says it is a nice place, but rather sparsely furnished—empty is what he called it. Well, when I get home, I’ll get some more furniture together that she can have. It is hoped Noah will also bring a chair or two-lol!

Barb’s son Charlie and wife, Cheryl arrived later in the afternoon and we visited before they took off with Damien, the dog. He’s going on vacation, too. Barb’s house smelled of skunk and we thought the beast had just sprayed outdoors near the house. But, within minutes of departure, Charlie called to say—eh, Mom, Damien was sprayed—we’re dying here in the car—lol  Oh, well, guess he had to give him a bath when they got home—about  a 20 mile drive with the smelly canine.

We watched some tv and went to bed around 10ish. It was soooooo hot in the house—I slept sprawled out without covers under the fan and died. Got to sleep finally around 2 and up at 7.  We got on the road about 846, which was later than we wanted to get going. Even with such a late start we covered over 400 miles with sun, and clouds, and sprinkles and torrential rains around Lake Erie, after Buffalo and then sun once more. That Lake affect is a pain in every season—but at least it wasn’t snow.

When we started out in Saratoga it was 83 degrees and humid. In Ashtabula it is breezy, dry and 77. Relief at last. Will be able to sleep tonight. There is something else that hasn’t changed. I have the A/C going—we have the bedroom at home at 64 degrees—and Barb is in a long sleeved flannel nightgown, under the blanket and threatening to take mine—lol  But for now, at 622 EST, it is time to eat—dining in on our stash of food—watch TV and vege. I’ll do some map study and call Bill. Then bed and, hopefully, an earlier start tomorrow. “ Til tomorrow night, take care.   The Sister Act!

A Pleasant Story That Young Adults Would Enjoy

Annie’s Stories by Cindy Thomson
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Annie's Stories was a Goodreads giveaway. While the story of a widow lady's home, in which she has provided shelter for immigrant girls at the turn of the 20th century in Lower Manhattan, was interesting I found it unduly long and therefore, at times boring. The writing is suited to a middle school grade level but at times is a little heavy on the religious theme.

Despite these drawbacks there is much about the living conditions of young women alone in the city that rings true. Annie is an orphan from Ireland living in the home of Mrs Hawkins, whose brother, a Catholic priest, had arranged the situation. Interestingly, the church the women of the house attend is not Catholic. Annie's father, an Irish storyteller, has left her little in worldly goods, but she does possess several of his stories, which he'd written down for her when he became ill. These bolster her spirits when she is depressed.

The Postman is a young American, who is also without family. He has debts which he is finding difficult to pay. Annie's stories become important to him as well. There is another young lady residing in the house, Kristen, a German girl working at the shirtwaist factory. She and her brother become the subjects of a Pinkerton investigation, which adds mystery to the story. Grace, yet another girl from Ireland, is a nanny to a doctor and his wife and is about to marry a young policeman. The household is rounded out with Aileen, Annie's cousin, for whom she feels no affection but who turns out the be a treasured addition in the end.

All in all, a pleasant story but not one that tempts me to continue with the series.

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Happily Ever After with Blueberries on Top!

The Irresistible Blueberry Bakeshop & Cafe by Mary Simses
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

My paperback copy was a Goodreads giveaway. An easy summer read about an engaged Manhattan lawyer is designer clothes carrying an expensive Nikon arriving in a small coastal Maine town, a tourist magnet. She is on a mission given her by her dying grandmother, to deliver a letter to a man in her grandmother's hometown. The letter is an apology for something that transpired between the two and Ellen feels an obligation to deliver it and at the same time learn something of her grandmother's early days growing up in this small town.

On her first day, Ellen trespasses on a rotting dock, falls through and it carried by a rip tide out into the depths. She is rescued by a local carpenter, Roy, around whose neck she throws her arms and upon whose lips she plants a strong kiss once he has gotten her safely to land once more.

Needless to say, Ellen being a tourist, though with local if old connections to the town, acts touristy and is called out kiddingly by Roy and Paula, the owner of the B and B in which Ellen is staying. Both Ellen's big city personality and the Mainiac local personalities are well developed. After staying overlong in Maine, Ellen is joined by her law partner and fiancé, Hayden who is from a prominent family and is politically ambitious. His obvious distain for the backwoods area and folks is well described. The reaction of the two when visiting an obviously undereducated impoverished local in her trailer home is spot on. They are afraid of the place and the woman, Sugar, and also quite ready to cheat her of the money she hopes to earn selling Ellen's grandmother's paintings, which have sat in her home and family for over 60 years.

At some point, Ellen's mother, the daughter of the painting grandmother and her doctor husband arrives on the scene as well. Both she and Ellen are quite capable of letting down their hair and blending in with the locals at the Antler's once they've had a few drinks.

There is an underlying sense of condescension toward the place, the accommodations at the hotel, the people that kept nagging at me throughout the story. Reading another reviewer referring to the room as shabby clarified the feeling for me. As a result the rating of the book is lower than I might have given it.

In the end, Hayden loses to Roy but living in a similar area of Vermont--lakeside rather than Oceanside--I wonder if the uneducated though successful builder and the Exeter and law school grad, who plan on running a blueberry farm and Ellen's bakery are truly going to make it. But that is the part of the story left to the readers' imaginations. It takes more than a change into jeans and tee shirt and making blueberry croissants to leave Manhattan for a small New England tourist town that dies in winter. Maybe they'll be snowbirds. This is feel good fiction after all and it is fun.

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Music Can Conquer All

Tempted by You by Tiffany Clare
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This was a Goodreads first read giveaway. A lively romance about a piano virtuoso, Rosa, who is damaged physically ( blind ), emotionally ( her fiancé was killed in the accident in which she was blinded ) and socially ( her father was forced by her would-be father-in-law to disown and humiliate her). She has become a courtesan in order to survive and so is a social outcast. One of her closest friends is a Duke to whom she has appealed for help. Her dissolute younger brother has disappeared and she seeks the aristocrats aid in finding him. The Duke is otherwise engaged with problems of his own, however, his younger brother, Ted, becomes enchanted with her and agrees to help in the Duke's stead, if Rosa will assist him in perfecting a musical opus he is preparing and with which he is dissatisfied.

Of course, everything works out happily for the two musicians, Ted is a violinist as well as a composer, but not before all kinds of obstacles must be overcome. Though the story line is familiar the author adds touches that are unique. Each chapter, for example, begins with a love note written by a famous musician, primarily but not exclusively, by Beethoven. The words are such revelations about the poetry and literacy in the hearts and minds of composers whose musical works have lasted through the test of time. Perhaps, Ted and, indeed, Rosa, who also composes, will join their ranks.

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Women Cannot Run the Show? We'll See Grandpa!

House of Dads by June Gillam
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

When I won this Goodreads giveaway the author was kind enough to send me the first book in the series, The House of Cuts. I read that one first and reviewed it, favorably. This time round is no exception--the heroine, Hillary Broome, is a likeable 30 something journalist whose father has died and whose mother deserted them when she was a young girl. She has had a couple of failed relationships, made a huge error in judgment while a journalism student at Columbia ( the possible revelation of which by one of those past boyfriends keeps her up at night) and has returned home to the California valley in which she grew up. She is working for an old classmate at a small local newspaper and teaching part time at the local community college.

In the first installment, while reporting on a big box grocery chain in the area she becomes embroiled in the gruesome deeds of a meticulous butcher of a serial killer and meets the lead detective on the case. He, Ed Killian, has lost a child to a hit and run and his wife has taken his other daughter and moved to the East coast, where she divorced him and severed all relationship. He is trying to give up cigars and to convince his rather obese partner, Walt, to eat less and more healthfully. By the end of that book, Ed and Hillary are engaged, Hillary has become friends with the elderly widow of one of the victims and Walt is still a glutton.

In this new book, House of Dads, Hillary has become closer to her father's family--the Broomes of Broome Construction. They are major developers of tract houses and are riding the bubble of easy mortgages and massive development. The head of the company has died and his son, Ted is in line to assume control. The Irish founder of the firm had three sons--Hillary's two uncles and her father, whom he'd disowned as being undeserving since he had no interest in the company. As a result, Hillary is not terribly close to her cousins though she is in attendance, with Ed, at her uncle's funeral. It is during the after funeral reception that Ted keels over and dies. Although, grandfather Pat had long ago decreed that only men can be in charge of the business, there are no male heirs available, so the job falls to Ted's sister, Violet.

So begins the mystery of what caused Ted's death, how Violet will withstand her mother's threat of adopting a son to prevent Violet's control, Violet's rush to become pregnant--with luck, carrying a boy--Hillary's apprehension at possibly marrying Ed too fast, her anxiety at having a family to which to belong. The strands of the tale weave and run and in the end all comes clear, Ed and Hillary marry in a delightful side romp, and the reader is left with the happy anticipation of the next adventure which will take place on Ed and Hillary's honeymoon in Ireland.

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The Biggest British Intelligence Scandal of the 20th Century

A Spy Among Friends: Kim Philby and the Great Betrayal by Ben Macintyre
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This review refers to an uncorrected proof I received from Goodreads. The book has been at the number one spot in non-fiction for the last two weeks and it truly deserves its place. A group of five Cambridge students, upper class British gentlemen, became enamored of the Communist regime in Russia in the 1930's. They proceeded to infiltrate MI5 and MI6 through their connections and moved upwards within the ranks of these British counterparts of American CIA and FBI. They served as spies for their own country and moles for the Soviets.

Their work began during WWII when the Soviets were allies with the West against fascism and Nazism but it continued during the Cold War. Kim Philby was the most Janus-like of them all. This is no James Bond story with dark alleys and jumping off trains or shooting guns at each other. These are men drinking gallons of booze, dining in fine restaurants, going to conservative and proper mens' clubs, having all night parties and sharing secrets with one another. Americans, Italians, British--all buddies and trusting each other with plans meant to infiltrate the Soviet Union or to stymie Soviet activities. They were men who devised the plans and were the men who sent the field agents like Bond in to carry them out.

Kim Philby learned about plans of American intelligence and planned many British operations. He then proceeded to share all his knowledge for over 30 years with his Soviet handlers. He was charming, a ladies man, a bon vivant and never had any remorse over the lives that were lost as a result of his spying. He was slippery--almost caught several times. He lost his position with the government for four years--distrusted by the American as well as British intelligence only to be reinstated in a position with even more access to secrets. It is an unbelievable story, told in a most readable way. Makes one wonder how far off Joe McCarthy really was. It is a story of arrogance, old boy politics and snobbery, and total lack of discretion. The actions of Philby and his friends reverberated through many years after the defection of three of the original British spies to Moscow, where they lived as drunken expatriates, devoted to their Communist ideals to the end.

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