Booked Up

I'm a list maker. I always kept a daily calendar. I get this wonderful organizational trait from my dad. If the family is planning a campout or barbeque, we race to pull out our pocket calendars. We are the keepers of dates.
Somehow, I made it to the end of August 2010 without a calendar. After we got home from the trip in June I was writing down birthday parties and appointments on a piece of paper. Haircut, 1:30 Tuesday or return library books next Saturday. When my page filled up I got a new piece of paper and wrote 1-30 on individual lines and filled in the September events. Finally, I realized what I really needed was a calendar.
I went to my dad's department store to get one. "We usually get rid of them by March, Becky," he said. "Why do you need one now? What happened to yours?" At first, I couldn’t explain myself. I just don't have one. I'm here to buy one. "I guess I haven't needed one until now, Dad," I explained. I told him that on our trip I didn't really keep track of the days the same way. His eyes showed his disbelief. Well, there might be some calendars in the Back to School merchandise, we decided.
And I found one. It goes all the way to next July. Six months ago I didn’t even know what day it was. Now I guess I’m back on the schedule.

When will I travel again?

Dan and I watched a movie last night. It was "Memoirs of a Geisha." It's a few years old. I picked it up at the library because I remember reading the book for book club and wanting to see the movie. The story was as good as I remember. What caught my eye this time around was the landscape. "Memoirs" was set in Japan around World War II. The opening scene shows the ocean. It was rainy and dark, but it made me long to be at the ocean again. I was also fascinated by the gardens, the architecture, and the clothing.
We knew something the day we came home, or maybe even before. Our bodies may stop traveling, but our minds will not. Now everything reminds us, calls us to come see it, to travel. For as many places in America that we dove headfirst into the culture and scenery, there are thousands of more places around the world to be discovered. Even in America we could do the trip all over again and see the same places but in different seasons. Last year I lived a dream. This year I can only dream.

There's a first time for everything

Some days, like when I'm writing, I get caught up in the idea that everything has been said and done before I ever got here. Millions of people have been to the Grand Canyon. Women have babies every single day. Books have been written on every topic. There's not one word, song or experience that Google doesn't know about already. Nothing is new or novel. This line of thinking is a real problem. There's no fun, no creativity. Some days, I call it writer's block.

That's when I have to think about all the firsts I accomplished last year on our trip. Last year on this very day, I was in Maryland at a seafood festival. I ate a crab cake for the first time ever. Surprisingly, I ate the whole thing. Yum. Dan's fried squid, on the other hand, was not a treat I was ready to sample. I doubt I’ll ever join that club. I racked up a lot of firsts last year though. First time in Boston, first alligator experience, first time to Spring Training, first time driving an RV. It really was a year of firsts.

I checked off another first this week when I went knee boarding on Lake Martin. After watching my 4-year old nephew climb on top of the board and cruise along behind us in the boat, I realized I was missing a lot of fun. I was terrible at it. I kept getting pulled under water or falling off. But it was so much fun. I felt like a kid again.

Despite what they say, there really is a first time for everything because no one experiences crab cakes or knee boarding or Gettysburg just like I do. And once I cross that line, trying something for the first time, there are tons of people waiting on the other side, to discuss it and embrace me as part of the group of "those who have." And that's the best part, sharing experiences with others. This is what I try to remember some days when I'm writing.

Our Trip Took Us into the Ocean

On a yearlong RV trip, I never imagined that we'd take a cruise too. But as luck would have it, that's just what we were doing last year on this day.

We discovered the Cape May-Lewes Ferry when we were trying to plan a route along the Atlantic Coast. We'd been to New York and Philadelphia, we were in New Jersey and we were headed to Maryland, Delaware and Washington D.C. That's when we found a shortcut across the ocean. It's a 17-mile, 85 minute trip between New Jersey and Delaware. It was under $100 bucks for the ride (it's much cheaper for passenger cars than 45-foot RVs) and it saved us a ton of time looping around the states, not to mention gas money. On top of that, once we boarded the big ship,and left our camper down in the parking area, we discovered that it was a Family Fun Cruise, with a DJ and activities for the kids on all three levels of the boat.

The thing I remember the most about our cruise across the Delaware Bay was how amazing it felt to stand with Dan and the kids at the bow, looking down at the inky water and wondering how I got so lucky.

The first century Roman philosopher, Seneca, said "Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity." I guess I believe that. We did a ton of preparation to give our family the opportunity to travel together. But sometimes the beauty of luck just sneaks right up on you.

I heart NY

Dan and I dream of living in NYC someday, if only temporarily. The city charmed us years ago, during a visit to see Dan's brother. Unaware of traffic or really anything in New York, we simply drove right into the middle of it, without even a map. Through Lincoln Tunnel to Manhattan and into Queens, we soaked it in. The next day, sightseeing, we put in several miles on foot. We slept on the floor of tiny apartment, smaller than any we'd lived in. And we fell in love the city. We didn't want to go home. There's so much we didn't see, so much to offer.
Last year on this day, we were leaving New York again. We spend three short days of our trip touring the city, showing Abby and Carter all the places we wanted them to love too. Most of our favorite things to do were free, including a ride on the Staten Island Ferry, gazing at Times Square, a walk in Central park, Grand Central Station, the South Street Seaport and the bridges, Brooklyn and Manhattan. There are enough parks and shops and museums and eateries to fill a lifetime.
It would be hard, not to mention expensive, to raise kids in New York. I doubt that is in our future. But as for visiting, I'd go back today if the chance came up. As for living there, I can dream!

One of my favorite bloggers linked me to a site that analyzes your writing and tells you what famous author you write like. Check it out I Write Like

Here's my results:

I write like
Dan Brown

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Remembering the PIP

Every road has rules. That's why we need a driver's license. But what if you're in a different state, the rules change, sometimes only slightly? And let's say the road is not a road, but a parkway. In some states that changes the rules more than a little.

While driving on the PIP, the Palisades Interstate Parkway, which is a scenic run from New Jersey to New York, be sure you're not driving an RV. That's prohibited. So are commercial vehicles, buses and trucks that are meant for hauling goods, not people. There are signs to let you know about the rules. But if you cruise by the sign at 60 mph like everyone else, there's no way you'll get the information you need. If you are driving a prohibited vehicle, you're breaking the law. The locals know it too. They honk and scowl and use hand signals as they speed past you.

But don't worry, the cops see this all the time. That's what they said when they pulled up behind us. We were not only driving on the PIP in our 45-ft recreational vehicle, we broke down, spilling transmission fluid all over the precious parkway. The cop was nice though, he didn't give us or the two tow trucks it took to haul us a way, a ticket for being to big for the road.

Rules aside, I would like to travel the PIP again one day. The parkway is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. There are beautiful stone-faced overpasses. The Appalachian Trail meanders right next to it. Lake Welch is nearby. Bear Mountain the Hudson River are the backdrop to a section of the parkway. With all the frustration of being lost, the breakdown and then the police, I really missed the beauty of it.