is there any more pie?

Indiana sunrise

Another long day on the road, but we were looking forward to stopping before 7 PM and getting ready to watch the Nebraska-Ohio State game on television at 8 PM. Little did we know what lay ahead.

We didn’t realize that this was a (a) Penn State football weekend, (b) Columbus Day weekend and (c) festivals of all kinds weekend in Pennsylvania. By 7 PM we were running out of options for a room and a tv, so Banjo Man checked out the televisions at the Super 8 and the Days Inn to see which had the best screen. He chose Super 8, so we checked into our room and then drove across the parking lot to something called Mama’s Dutch Restaurant or Dutch Inn or Mama’s Windmill Green Roof? We ate burgers and fries and escaped as soon as we could.

They were, sadly, out of apple dumplings.

Banjo Man wanted party food, but I convinced him there was no time to drive 3 miles to a grocery store before the game started.  After all, we had a small bag of potato chips and half a chocolate bar.  Also the two bottles of beer I brought from Idaho.  A plastic container of green tomatoes. Two dozen protein bars.  A can of Diet Coke.

We were all set.

Nebraska wasn’t.  At half time I ate the chocolate bar, put my ear plugs in and went to sleep. Banjo Man suffered through the whole miserable defeat with his two little bottles of beer and no salsa & Dorito chips.

Painful.

I have no pictures of Pennsylvania because I’m not a big fan of this state.  Nothing personal, it’s just hell to drive through no matter if you’re going east or west.  It’s endless.  ENDLESS.  There are no bison statues or weird tourist places.  I saw a billboard for a baseball bat factory tour.  I would have stopped for that, just to break up the monotony that is Pennsylvania.  We never drive through at a time when the antique malls are open, and I boycott Lancaster because of their puppy mill laws.  And I’m not a big fan of severe, dark Amish quilts.

day 7 east:

We didn’t get on the road until after 9 Sunday morning. Banjo Man grieved. I took a bath. We ate breakfast at a Burger King (sausage biscuits), which should illustrate how depressed Banjo Man was over this game. Suicide by sausage: no healthy oatmeal at the Super 8 lobby for him this morning.

A rainy day through New York and Connecticut, with traffic, but we were in RI before 4:00 Sunday afternoon.  Safe and sound, but a few pounds heavier.  The house looked great and the cool weather was welcome.  We were ready to stretch out on the couch and watch Amazing Race, so out came the popcorn popper and on went the pajamas.

The old folks are home.

beautiful states, nice people

Minnesota sunrise

day 5 east:  minnesota sunrise

This was taken outside of Albert Lea, MN, before we headed south through Iowa to hit the interstate.

This was taken right before my morning nap.

We continued on through Illinois and Indiana.

South Bend, Indiana was the Night of the Hockey Teams at the Hampton Inn.  I should write to that Hampton Inn to tell them what a great job they did.  And those who organized that tournament?  Despite the high spirits, pizza and a zillion 11 year old boys, the party was over at 10 PM.  Really.  It was as if someone pulled the plug.

The next morning at 6:30 we walked across the chips-covered carpet through a quiet lobby.

Impressive.  Especially if you’ve ever chaperoned fifth grade boys.

some of our stuff

Banjo Man was not with me when I packed up the car and left the lake Monday.  I have never packed up the car.  Never.  In forty-two years.  It’s a “big job”, says Banjo Man.  It takes skill, depth perception, spacial skills (I admit I have none of these).  It takes him hours, if not days.  He huffs and puffs and complains. I’m always glad I don’t have to do it.

But this year it was up to me.  And I wanted to make room for my three dozen canning jars (apricots, plums, peach jams, plum syrup).

I obviously needed a shelf.  So I went to Home Depot and picked out a board and the Home Depot man sawed 12″ off of it for me (I’d taken careful measurements of the trunk and the canning jars).

Banjo Man called me.  He was worried.  Packing was a big job.  I was to shove it all in to the car and he would repack it when I met him in Billings.

Sure.  No problem.  I didn’t tell him about the shelf.  My trips to Home Depot worry him.

Banjo Man was so impressed.  You can’t see the banjo, lap steel guitar, amplifier, fiddle or three dozen canning jars, but they’re in there.  And the back seat is empty except for the laptops and overnight bags.

Think he’ll use my shelf next year???

I spent Tuesday morning writing in the Hampton Inn in Missoula, then hit the road before noon.  It was a beautiful day to drive through one of the most gorgeous places in the whole world.

btw, the HD flat screen television in the Hampton Inn in Missoula was truly, madly, deeply fabulous.

Was “Truly, Madly, Deeply” a book or a movie or both?

I watched a repeat of the last 10 minutes of the Nebraska-Wisconsin game, part of a movie (“Elizabethtown”) and then part of another HBO movie, a British romance with a drunken hero, then fell asleep.

Tuesday morning I watched the last part of an episode of River Monsters, which I’d never seen before.  The fisherman host goes around trying to catch big horrible fish around the world, I guess, because he was trying to catch some sort of mean monster killer fish in a river in the Congo.  He finally caught it and it had teeth like a crocodile and was vicious and ugly and HUGE.  Then the Congo native couldn’t believe the tv guy was planning to let the fish go!!  They don’t believe in “catch and release” in the Congo, you see, because the poor kid explained to the tv guy that the whole village was planning a party, a big feast, and everyone had been preparing all day because actually seeing one of these fish is A REALLY BIG DEAL.

The tv guy pontificated on how he doesn’t believe in eating the river monsters he hooks on his fishing line, no matter how many people (even the ones who have been helping him for days) are looking for something to eat.

Idiot.  I screamed, “FEED YOUR HOSTS, THANK THEM FOR BEING SO NICE TO YOU, EAT THE DAMN FISH!!”

And while he’s going on and on about how he wants to let the fish live because, blah, blah, blah, the fish *dies*.  So, as he pompously states, “the decision has been taken out of our hands”.

Happy Ending.

I then packed up my computer and headed west.

I veered off the interstate into Butte, just because I’d never stopped in Butte.  The GPS makes exploring really easy.  I stopped at a store downtown that was piled high with vintage outfits, shoes, fabric, hats, etc.  Heaven.  (No, I didn’t buy anything, but loved looking).

Back on the road with a Wendy’s chicken sandwich and a diet Coke.

Bozeman is always trendy and western and full of tourists and students.  I drove south of town to wander through an antique shop.  Didn’t buy anything, but it was a good way to talk a walk and look through an entire shelf (a very long shelf) of fishing books.

On to downtown, to a vintage western boots & clothing store on the main street.  I tried on some fancy old patent leather Tony Lama’s, but they were too big.  Darn!

So…on to Billings to meet Banjo Man.  If you’ve never driven I-80 from Bozeman to Billings, then get in a car next year and do it.  Don’t forget your camera.  I took these while I was driving.

Banjo Man and I belatedly celebrated our wedding anniversary at a “rib and chop house” behind the hotel.  I wolfed down my first filet in a year.  Plus creme brulee for dessert.  Be still my heart.  Banjo Man was a little more restrained with a half order of baby back ribs.

I told him all about the River Monster.  We agreed to never get on a boat in the Congo River.

This is what we saw when we drove out of Billings, Montana Wednesday morning.  It was a bit of a shock.

But we used our heated seats!!!!