Reading post: March

In March I planned to focus on "classics," loosely defined, that at some point in the past I said I'd like to read. "Classics" are often long books, so I figured I wouldn't read very many this month, but it turned out that length wasn't the problem. I just had all these other things to read, like book after book about autism and a very long biography of Dwight David Eisenhower, and the book for the book group. My "brief reviews" book this month was long too. It's fine! It's all good. I can read classics some other time.

Books I said I'd like to read (Classics)

Passing by Nella Larsen (1929). In 2020, I read Larsen's first novel, Quicksand, and noted,

Larsen is better known for her second novel, Passing, but that was checked out at the library (I might read it later). 

Passing is short, only about 120 pages, and very tightly organized. I didn't enjoy the book, but I was fascinated by the subject, the question of "passing" as white, back in the days of Jim Crow and the one-drop rule. The main character, Irene, who occasionally tries to pass, is forced to think deeply about the subject when she meets an old friend, Clare, who is married to a white racist and thus passing 100% of the time, but still wants to hang out with Black people, including possibly Irene's husband. It is a thought-provoking book.

Pierre or The Ambiguities by Herman Melville (1852). In 2019, I read Moby-Dick, inspired in part by Jill Lepore's article on Melville in the New Yorker. In that article she also discusses Pierre, which I had never heard of, so I made a note that I'd like to read it. Hmm. The edition I got from the library is truncated -- it's an attempt to recreate Melville's original version, before he tacked on some extra stuff to appease his dubious publishers. But that means it's not the Pierre that other people have read. Probably doesn't matter. This edition also has wonderful illustrations by Maurice Sendak, so that's a plus. 

Anyway, Pierre is one of the weirder books I have ever read. Moby-Dick is actually not hard to read, but Pierre is -- I think intentionally -- written in this florid, confusing style that was just so hard to get through. The story itself is nuts. Pierre, 19 years old and engaged to be married to blonde Lucy, meets a dark young woman, Isabel, who claims to be his half-sister (from an illicit affair his father had before marrying his mother). Pierre, who has a weird, vaguely incestuous relationship with his widowed mother -- he calls her "sister" -- doesn't want to destroy his father's reputation by acknowledging Isabel, but he wants to take care of her. So he comes up with a crazy scheme: pretend that he has married Isabel (his sister -- maybe -- but no one else knows that) and then run away with her. He breaks up with Lucy, his mother disowns him, his cousin pretends not to know him, his mother dies and leaves the estate to the cousin. Lucy, who still loves Pierre, comes to live with him and Isabel, and her mother disowns her. And then they all die (sorry for the spoiler -- was anyone actually going to read this?). Completely nuts. Well, I've read it. It's done.

Books from the New Yorker's "Briefly Noted" reviews

The Life and Times of Hannah Crafts: The True Story of The Bondwoman's Narrative by Gregg A. Hecimovich (2023). No one really knows who wrote The Bondwoman's Narrative (the oldest known novel written by an American Black woman), but Hecimovich makes a good case for Hannah Crafts. In part the book is fascinating -- the research that he and others did is just wild. But I found his descriptions of the men who owned her to be boring and hard to follow. I kept thinking, you shouldn't have written this chapter like this, you should have done XYZ differently. A family tree would have helped. So it's a mixed bag, but in general pretty darn amazing. I will now have to read The Bondwoman's Narrative.

Other reading

Your Child is Not Broken: Parent Your Neurodivergent Child Without Losing Your Marbles by Heidi Mavir (2023). My third book about autism, and I liked it a lot. The author's son was not diagnosed until he was 14 and started experiencing autism burnout. The author is herself also autistic, diagnosed late in life, and the second half of the book is more about her, which I was less interested in. Also, she's in England, and things seem different there. She had a lot of horror stories about how parents of neurodivergent kids are treated. I learned a lot from this book, especially the first few chapters, and I liked her attitude. I started to think that perhaps I haven't done everything wrong with Teen B, perhaps I've even done some things right. What a thought.

Uniquely Human: A Different Way of Seeing Autism by Barry M. Prizant with Tom Fields-Meyer (2015). My fourth book about autism and it was great. Everyone with an autistic kid should read this. I may even buy the updated edition from 2022. As far as I can tell, there are two possible approaches to autism: behaviorally modify the heck out of kids until they act more normal OR let them be themselves and work to understand what makes them happy and less stressed. The first approach (ABA) is very popular these days, but Prizant follows the second approach, which appeals to me (it may be possible to do some of both). Really good book. Rocket Boy read it too, after I finished it.

Eisenhower in War and Peace by Jean Edward Smith (2012). I am so close to the end of my presidential biography project! Eisenhower was elected in 1952, serving until 1960, when I was born. My parents were Adlai Stevenson supporters, so I grew up thinking there was nothing to like about Ike. In fact, I think he was a pretty good president (based on this book), although he made some very bad decisions, causing the current mess in Iran and destabilizing Guatemala. I was also uncomfortable about his romantic history, his affair with Kay Summersby and his relationship with his rather trivial wife Mamie. I was planning to read just this one book about Ike, but now I'm thinking I might read Kay's tell-all book, Past Forgetting. I'll see.

Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell (2020). The book group book. I was really interested in reading this book about Shakespeare's son who died at age 11, possibly of bubonic plague (but we don't know). It's mainly about his mother, Anne/Agnes Hathaway, an interesting decision since nothing much is known about her. So O'Farrell makes up all kinds of stuff, turning her into almost a Mary Sue. Then Hamnet dies and Agnes becomes more human. I don't know. I found the book disappointing. I was hoping for something like Penelope Fitzgerald's The Blue Flower, which is my idea of a perfect work of historical fiction. This isn't that. I'd like to see the movie, though. Wonder what the book group will think of the book.

NeuroTribes: The Legacy of Autism and the Future of Neurodiversity by Steve Silberman (2015). My fifth book about autism. It's 477 pages long, but I started reading it on the 25th and finished it on the 27th. It's fascinating. The author is a journalist, not a clinician, and it's not a book about how to deal with autism -- although there are lots of horror stories about what NOT to do. It's a history book, all about how autism was first recognized, the ways in which it has been misunderstood, the different approaches to treating it, all the controversies, and where we are now -- or were, in 2015. Supposedly there's an updated version of this book too, and I think I should buy it. A very useful, helpful reference.

March is ending, as are many things

We're almost at the end of March, traditionally one of my least favorite months. This year was somewhat different. As usual, I couldn't handle the twins' birthday, messed it all up, but we got through it. The anniversary of my father's death didn't seem to bother me this year (maybe after 37 years I'm OK with it?). And the weather has been so weird, so sunny and warm. It worries me, but it's hard to be miserable when the sun is shining and the flowers are starting to bloom.

Speaking of flowers, on my walk the other day I spotted a lilac in full bloom! It is too early for that. I am not sure when exactly lilacs bloom, but I think mid-April is more normal. Not March. 

Our lilac blooms in May, normally, and it doesn't look as if it's going to be early this year. In fact, it shows no sign of being alive. No, I take that back, I just spotted some teeny-tiny leaves on the branches. So, it's alive, but it won't blossom for a long time. That's a relief.

Yesterday, we participated in the No Kings rally and march in Boulder. It was hard to decide where to go -- we considered going up to Longmont or even down to Denver. All the little towns around us had their own protests too. But in the end we stayed in Boulder. We parked in Teen A's parking place in the student lot at Boulder High and walked over to where people were gathering by the bandshell. They were playing 60s protest music ("For What It's Worth" by Buffalo Springfield, etc.) and then some people gave short speeches, but we couldn't understand a word, too far away.

Then everyone started moving toward the street, so we followed. They had actually closed off the streets -- that's a first in Boulder for anything other than the Christmas parade and the Bolder Boulder race. With thousands of other people we marched down Canyon, turned right on 9th, turned right on Pine, and then right again on Broadway. 

When we got to Broadway, we kept going, crossed the street, and walked toward Arapahoe. The idea was that everyone would wave their signs as people drove by and honked -- but no one could drive by because the streets were blocked off! We waited for 15 minutes or so, but it seemed like the march would go on for a long time yet, the streets were still blocked off, and we were hot and tired. It was around 80 degrees! In March! We decided it was OK for us to go home -- we're old. The young people could stay and wait for the streets to open. I hope they did.

I was depressed before the protest, and had trouble making a sign. What can you put on a single sign, when so many things are wrong all at once? This is what I came up with -- so silly. Rocket Boy did not approve of it (I didn't approve of his sign, either). But today in the paper they mentioned someone in Kansas who had the same sign as me (with presumably different cats, lol), so I felt vindicated. And a few people laughed at my sign, so that was a good thing. I always think other people's signs are so wonderful and mine are dumb, but it was OK.

It's kind of blowing my mind that March is ending. The kids have only six weeks left of regular school, then finals week, and then they graduate on May 17th. It's going to go so fast. 

I keep thinking of that book I read last August, It. Goes. So. Fast.: The Year of No Do-Overs by Mary Louise Kelly. I really disliked the book... and yet, the title keeps running through my head. Of course, as I noted last year, EVERY year is a year of no do-overs -- you can't do a year over. And yet... senior year is really that year. If you don't go to prom, you can't go to prom the next year, because you will have graduated. If you don't take astronomy with Mr. C., you can't take astronomy with Mr. C. next year (though you could take it in college). If you don't go to the cast party for the spring musical (which Teen B is missing right now), you can't go to the cast party next year. And so on. This is it. It's almost over. No do-overs. After graduation, it's on to adult life.

But the kids seem OK with that idea. They've both made their decisions about college, and we've started filling out the forms. Teen A got started last week and then his girlfriend got home from her spring break trip and he ran off to see her. So we'll have to finish his forms soon, but at least Metro knows he's coming. Teen B made his decision today (he might have made it already, but he TOLD me about it today). He's going to go to CSU, which I think is a good choice. We started his application and I paid the $300 deposit. We'll do more as the week goes on -- there are a million things to fill out. 

*** 

Yesterday we got word that Rocket Boy's cousin June had died, Friday night, at the age of 90. She was born in 1935 -- in June, of course -- so if she'd lived a couple more months she would have made it to 91. She had serious dementia, though, and had been bedridden and on hospice since early January, and you could just hear the relief in her daughter's voice when Rocket Boy called her last night. "We haven't been able to go out to dinner together for years," she told him, referring to herself and her husband, who were June's caregivers. "We just thought, tonight, we could go out to dinner!"

Rocket Boy had meant to go to California for a visit after we heard June was on hospice, but he didn't do anything about it. I know he thought he had more time. So he'll probably go to the memorial service, which will be in mid to late April, and I'll go too if I can figure out how to make it work. It'll probably be the same weekend as prom. Hmm. We'll see.

June came to our wedding, in August 2002. So that's 23 and a half years ago, so she would have been only 67. Two years older than I am now. Twenty-five years from now, will people be hearing about my death and thinking about something that happened this year (such as the twins' graduation)?

June was not someone who did anything important in her life. She raised four children, who have experienced various degrees of success or failure (one is deceased). She buried two husbands, as they say. She worked as a cafeteria lady in a public school. I don't think she did any volunteer work or anything like that after she retired. She mainly liked to shop and watch TV. But she was a nice person, and I liked her a lot. I always looked forward to visiting her when we went to southern California, because she was such a good gossip. Not a mean gossip, but an opinionated one, always full of interesting stories about her various relatives and friends. She had a good sense of humor and was very fair. Also a Democrat, which always helps. She liked Obama, disliked Trump. She liked people!

I will miss her. Even though we knew she was already gone -- the dementia was very advanced when we last saw her, in June 2024 -- actual death seems different. More final, yeah?

*** 

I spent quite a bit of this past week reading, trying to finish various books by the end of March. I kind of bypassed my plans for the month (to read classics) and read books about autism instead. I'll write more about that in my reading post (probably on Tuesday), but here I'll just mention the last book I read, NeuroTribes, which is about the history of autism and how it's been interpreted and diagnosed and treated through the years. One thing the author, Steve Silberman, mentioned really brought me up short. He said that autistic people tend to find each other, tend to be attracted to each other, like they're finding their own people. 

Now, I've never for a moment thought I might be autistic. I've always had lots of friends, I like being with people. I have very well-rounded intelligence. One common trait of autistic people is "spiky intelligence," where they're really good at one thing, i.e., math, and really terrible at others, i.e., reading and writing (Teen B is terribly spiky). I'm good at almost everything. My SAT and GRE scores were almost identical for math and language arts. I'm creative, love to make up stories. I'm also pretty good at time management and organization. I alphabetize everything -- spices, books, records. I organize our family's vacations. I make charts and plans for all kinds of things.

But... It's a fact that a lot of people don't like me. They liked me in high school, in college, in grad school - but not anymore. I've almost given up trying to make friends. Men sometimes like me, but women just don't. I don't know why. One experience I've had is when people get to know me through my writing, they think they're going to like me, and then when they meet me in person -- nope. In fact, they often actively dislike me. I don't know why this happens, I just know it does.

Also... I really like routine. I write this blog every Sunday and have done so for YEARS. I don't know of any bloggers who are as regular as I am. Most people gave up on it long ago, or if they still do it, they do it only occasionally. I hate it when I miss a Sunday. Sometimes Teen B annoys me, the way he always wants to stick to routines, but I'm honestly just as bad (they're just slightly different routines). 

And autistic people are prone to depression and anxiety. Well, hello me. Of course, plenty of neurotypical people also have those issues. Still, hmm.  

Now, going back to that attraction thing. Before I met Rocket Boy, I knew I had a type. I described the type as "physicists and engineers," but I knew that wasn't exactly it. My Michigan boyfriend, Steve, is a lawyer. My high school boyfriend, Greg, is a doctor. But they, and most of the other guys I've been interested in through the years, have things in common. I've always thought of it as just being really smart, but that isn't it either, not exactly. My high school boyfriend wasn't that smart. Plus, really smart "normal" guys are of no interest to me whatsoever. They bore me, honestly. I feel like they're members of a different species.

I met Rocket Boy at the Boulder Singles Hikes "Anniversary Hike," in June 2000, on Father's Day. There were a lot of people there that day, and as they milled around, waiting to find out where we were going to hike, I scanned the crowd, looking for someone, anyone, that I might be interested in. I spotted Rocket Boy and immediately zeroed in on him. I thought he was cute, but it wasn't just that. He had this LOOK in his eye, this abstracted look. He was wandering the edges of the crowd, observing something -- I don't know what. He definitely wasn't doing what I was doing, looking for appealing members of the opposite sex. He had things going on in his head. THAT's what I'm attracted to, that sense that someone is thinking about something that goes way beyond what's actually happening.

Can you be attracted to autistic people without being autistic yourself? Am I autistic, even a little bit? It doesn't really matter whether I am or not, at this point in my life, but it is interesting -- and very puzzling -- to think about.

***

So, the week ahead. A few more days of March, and then we move on into April. Like last year, it looks like we're going to have more "weather" in April than we did in March. Starting Tuesday, there's a chance of rain every day, and we could even get snow Friday and Saturday nights. We could really use the moisture, any moisture, in any form, plus, it means I can wear my lavender raincoat!

The book group meets Tuesday night, finally, and Teen A has an eye doctor appointment on Wednesday. Those are the only things on the calendar, so it'll be a fairly uneventful week. I'll cook and clean and read and write and go for walks -- at least when it's not raining hard. Next Sunday is Easter. I don't have to hide eggs anymore, but Rocket Boy likes us to have some sort of special dinner, so I'll have to think about that. And on we go, into the last six weeks of high school classes. OMG. 

Home from our last Spring Break

So we are home from our latest epic journey! We traveled through eight states in seven days, not counting Colorado: Oklahoma, Arkansas, Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, and Kansas. We stayed in hotels in six states (all but Tennessee and Illinois). We drove about 2650 miles -- "we" meaning Teen A, who did absolutely all of the driving. I think Rocket Boy moved the car once, when we were at a gas station. I never touched the steering wheel, nor did Teen B.

We saw three National Parks, a National Historic Site, a Presidential Museum, and two cemeteries. We went up in a tower and down into a cave. We snacked on junk food from "travel centers" (my favorites are Skor bars, Gold Peak green tea, and Fairlife milk). Let's look at our trip, day by day. 

Day 1, Sunday, March 15th: Colorado to Kansas to Oklahoma

We got on the road fairly early (for us), 9:51 am according to my notes. It had snowed the night before (had to scrape off the car) and was very cold, but the real problem, especially once we got out east, was the wind! When we stopped for gas in Limon, Colorado ($3.699/gallon), the wind hit me like I don't know what. It must have been blowing 60 mph, and so cold! We saw a semi that had blown over into the median, and I'm sure it wasn't the only one that day. I was coming down with Teen A's cold, had a sore throat which I was trying to ignore, and the weather didn't help!

We took 287 south past various farming communities (Eads, Kit Carson) and the wind was just unbearable. Huge dust clouds making it hard to see the road. And so cold. I noticed on my phone that we were close to Amache, which is one of the Japanese internment camps that's been made into a National Historic Site, so I asked if we could make a tiny detour and see it. Only problem was the wind! I got out of the car and walked around briefly, but everyone else stayed in the car. I know this photo makes it look like it was a nice calm day, but it wasn't. Maybe another time we'll make it back for a better look.

We stopped for a very late lunch/early dinner at a Black Bear Diner in Garden City, Kansas, got gas ($3.159/gallon), and then continued on into Oklahoma. Our hotel for the night was an independent one, the Northwest Inn in Woodward, OK. Our rooms were next to each other and we could open the connecting door between them. I shared with Teen A. I had requested rooms with an outside entrance, so that we could get to and from the car easily, and that was a mistake. We went inside and looked at the lovely pool, but the thought of going back and forth in a wet swimsuit, with wet hair, and that terrible wind blowing... we just couldn't face it. We'll go in the next hotel's pool, we told ourselves. Dinner was snacks and leftovers from the Black Bear. 

Day 2, Monday, March 16th: Oklahoma to Arkansas

In the morning the wind had died down a little, but it was still blowing and the temperature was in the 20s. After breakfast in the hotel, we packed up the car, got gas at a Love's ($3.219/gallon) and drove southeast to Okeene, Oklahoma, where my great-grandparents (father's mother's parents) got a farm in the 1892 land rush, after emigrating from Russia. My grandmother was born there. I had directions from Findagrave, but it wasn't an address, more like "turn left, turn right, and go down a ways." As we were approaching the town, we saw a sheriff's car coming toward us. And he saw us, too. He pulled over, made a U-turn, and turned on his lights. Teen A pulled over and got out his license. Oh dear. Turned out he was doing 84 mph in a 65 mph zone. Oh dear. The ticket was for $279. Oh dear. "I'll pay it," I told Teen A. "But you SLOW DOWN." And in fact he did, somewhat, for the rest of the trip. So, for that we were really indebted to the sheriff, who I dubbed Officer Friendly (not to his face).

As Officer Friendly was walking back to his car, it occurred to me that he might know where the cemetery was. So Rocket Boy called to him and he came back. "Do you know where Ebenfeld Cemetery is?" I asked him. "I've been there once, but it was a long time ago" (in fact, around 35 years ago). Officer Friendly thought about it, and then gave us directions that matched what I'd gotten off Findagrave. Feeling more confident, we drove through town and turned right. And after a bit, we found it. It's every bit as desolate as the cemetery in Nebraska where my father's father's parents are buried. But it's still being used. Teen B found the grave of someone who died in 2024. Someone had put a sign saying "Merry Christmas" in front of it (obviously hadn't visited recently).

After the cemetery, we drove on across Oklahoma. I wanted to avoid Oklahoma City, so we took Highway 51 instead. Northern Oklahoma was quite pleasant, green and with lots of cows. We stopped in Stillwater for gas ($3.179/gallon at Walmart) and went to a Starbucks for a sort of lunch. While there, we noticed a man sitting near us wearing a MAGA cap. Ah, Oklahoma. But I've got to say one thing: I had expected to have to watch Fox News every morning at breakfast, but NOT ONE HOTEL that we stayed at had their breakfast room TV tuned to Fox. We saw ABC, NBC, ESPN, and the Weather Channel. Never Fox. Not even CBS, which is trying to become the new Fox. I'm used to having to watch Fox in every hotel, but not on this trip to the "Upper South." I don't know what's changed, but it seemed like something had.

I wanted to drive through Tahlequah (Cherokee capital), but we got our directions mixed up and just got on I-40 after Tulsa instead. But we still saw plenty of Indian license plates: a Muskogee one, several Cherokee ones, and some others. The kids couldn't believe Indian tribes could issue their own license plates. So it was a learning experience.

We finally crossed over into Arkansas and then we had a long drive to our hotel. We got our cheapest gas of the trip at a Harp grocery store in Waldron ($2.789/gallon). After checking in to our Best Western in Hot Springs, we went to dinner at a nice restaurant called the Brick House Grill. What I liked best about it was that I could order a single baked sweet potato! So that's what I had for dinner, plus a side salad. Delicious.

Our hotel, a Best Western across from a racetrack, had a pool -- but it was an outdoor pool. And it was still freezing, although fortunately the wind had calmed down. So no swimming. But again, our rooms were next to each other and we could open the connecting door. I shared with Teen B. My sore throat was turning into a real cold, so that night I took cold medicine, which did help.

Day 3, Tuesday, March 17th: Arkansas to Tennessee to Kentucky

I had only allotted an hour or so for our visit to Hot Springs National Park, because, you know, how interesting could it be? In fact, it was very interesting, and we spent a couple of hours there and could have spent much more. The Visitor Center is in one of the old bathhouses on Bathhouse Row, and it contains a large museum. We watched a film about the history of the park, and then wandered around. We also visited the gift shop (my favorite activity), which was in another bathhouse.

Then we drove into the park proper and went to the Hot Springs Mountain Tower. I had read that this is run by a private company, but they still gave us a discount based on my parks pass. I didn't pay much attention to what things cost on the trip (except gas). It's only money, I kept saying. We took the elevator up to the top of the tower, which is 216 feet tall, and spent some time looking at the view. Then I had the bright idea to walk DOWN from the tower, which you can do -- you can walk up it, too, if you're crazy. Anyway, we all walked down, and after 216 feet of steps down, my legs were in pain.

It would have been nice to spend more time there, but we needed to get to Kentucky. So we got back in the car and drove all the way across Arkansas to West Memphis on the border, right across the river from Memphis, Tennessee. Rocket Boy found a restaurant that sounded interesting, Sizzlin Skillet, so we drove there. And I took one look at the sign, which advertised "Soul Food," and panicked. "Let's not go here," I said. "It's going to be all Black people." My kids were horrified. "Mom!" Teen A said. "How can you be so racist?" I felt so ashamed of myself, and yet I was still afraid. "Why don't you go in and I'll wait in the car," I suggested, but of course Rocket Boy wouldn't agree to that. Finally we ended up at Applebee's, a few blocks away. And of course, ha ha, everyone in Applebee's was also Black. But I felt safe, because it was a chain restaurant. Sure. Makes so much sense (not).

I did a little research on West Memphis, and although it's majority Black, it's about 30% white. It was OK for us to be there. I didn't need to be afraid. And yet I was. I apologized profusely to the kids for being so racist, but I couldn't shake my fear. I told the kids I was feeling racial guilt because we were approaching Kentucky where I knew I had ancestors who had owned slaves. I left our Applebee's waitress a large tip, which I explained to the kids was in lieu of reparations. Oh, the whole thing was nuts. But there you are.

We got gas at Exxon ($3.499/gallon), and drove on, across the river and into Tennessee, and then all the way across Tennessee (from top to bottom, that is). It was very pretty, very green and rural, although I kept thinking that it would be so much prettier in about a month. We finally crossed the border into Kentucky very late, and reached our hotel in Kuttawa around 8 pm. Motel, I should say. It was a Relax Inn and I shared with Teen A. The rooms were next to each other, but we couldn't open the connecting door. It was an older motel, right off the highway, but actually very comfortable and quiet. We decided to skip dinner, just ate some snacks from the car. I took another dose of nighttime cold medicine and slept well.

Day 4, Wednesday, March 18th: Kentucky to Indiana

Time to face my past. Kuttawa, Kentucky is very close to Eddyville, Kentucky, where some of my ancestors once lived (the slave-owning ones). They actually lived in old Eddyville, much of which is now underwater, but the old cemetery still exists (it's on a hill) and I knew that a sister of my mother's father's father's father was buried there. Her name was Arisba and she was born in 1820 and died in February 1864, same month and year as her husband Elzathan (the photo shows their two headstones). 

The cemetery was pretty easy to find -- it's historic, so there were signs leading to it. We parked the car and started wandering the hillside. It had been snowing lightly earlier, but had stopped by then. I knew what the headstone looked like, from Findagrave, so eventually I spotted it. It's almost illegible, but I could still read her name. There were numerous confederate soldiers buried there too. I texted a picture of her gravestone to my sisters and said something about how there must have been "something going around" in 1864 to kill both Arisba and her husband. My sister texted back, "The civil war was going around." Oh, yeah. Kentucky in 1864 was not a good place to be.

After half an hour or so we got back on the road and drove to Mammoth Cave National Park, stopping at a Marathon station for gas ($3.699/gallon). Our tour wasn't until 2:30 pm, so we first walked across the footbridge from the visitor center to the lodge and ate lunch at the Green River Grill. The menu was minimal, but I had a grilled cheese sandwich, which was fine. They had desserts -- and we had time -- so Rocket Boy and I split a piece of "Derby Pie," Teen A had his own piece, and Teen B had chocolate ice cream. A little before 2:30 we walked over to where we waited to board the buses that would take us to the cave entrance. It was still fairly cold -- at one point it was sleeting.

In retrospect, I think I made a mistake here. There were various tours you could sign up for (I had done this online, a week ahead), and I had signed us up for the "Domes and Dripstones Tour," which was billed as "scientific." But I think a better choice would have been the "Historic Tour." Either way it probably would have been hard for me, because of my questionable decision to walk DOWN from the Hot Springs Mountain Tower the day before. My thighs and calves were still aching. I could barely walk on flat ground, and walking either upstairs or downstairs was exquisitely painful. The "Domes and Dripstones Tour" involves 640 stairs, including 96 that were optional (guess what? I skipped them!). Because we were part of a tour (with 100 people on it!), you had to keep moving, you couldn't stop. I did stop at one point, going up a dreadful staircase, and tried to get the people behind me to go ahead of me, but they wouldn't, they just stood there sympathizing. So I pulled myself together and kept going.

And the silly thing about the whole tour was that the cave wasn't even very interesting! Nothing at all like Carlsbad Caverns last year. I kept waiting for the big reveal -- the room of beauty. There wasn't one. It's not really that kind of cave. Its main claim to fame is that it's incredibly long, over 400 miles, the longest cave in the world. But it doesn't have a lot of beautiful things to look at. Just these "cave crickets," which looked like spiders. Apparently there are also eyeless fish, the length of someone's pinky, that are endangered. And bats, but we didn't see any.

After the tour, which I somehow survived, we went to the Starbucks in the lodge, bought some more things at the gift shop, and got on the road again. It was only about 100 miles to our hotel. We crossed another river (the Ohio) and whoosh, there we were in Indiana. 

Our hotel was a La Quinta, and I was predisposed not to like it, because it kept sending me emails. All day long I got emails from La Quinta, asking me to preregister, asking me when I was coming, sending me confirmation after confirmation after confirmation. Seriously, it sent me FIVE confirmation emails. I ignored them all. But when we finally got there, it was fine (although it had an outdoor pool, closed for the season). There was a laundry room on our floor, so after buying some Tide and exchanging $4 for 16 quarters from the desk clerk, I did a load of laundry. Teen B didn't want to go out, but Rocket Boy, Teen A, and I went to a Red Robin that was still open. It was pretty bad. I ordered a Caesar salad with grilled salmon, but the cook made a mistake and fixed it with chicken instead. So the waitress brought me both -- first a gigantic chicken Caesar salad and then a gigantic salmon Caesar salad. And I wasn't hungry -- in fact, I was nauseated. My cold, the effects of my GLP-1 drug (I took my shot Saturday night before we left), the cave trip... whatever it was, I didn't feel like eating. I picked at the salmon, picked at the croutons, ate a few lettuce leaves. One of the TVs in the restaurant was showing a dog show, so I watched that and tried not to think about my stomach. Back at the hotel I took more cold medicine and got a good night's sleep.

Day 5, Thursday, March 19th: Indiana to Illinois to Missouri

Finally, the weather improved. We were headed for St. Louis and it was supposed to be in the 70s there! Also, I didn't feel sick anymore. I put on my new lemon yellow t-shirt and wore it with my new lavender raincoat and sandals -- no more puffy coats or black sweaters or heavy shoes for me! I looked rather like an Easter egg, even my shape. And along the way across Illinois we stopped at a rest stop and there was a chocolate bunny in one of the vending machines! We got gas at Costco (Teen A's brilliant idea) for only $3.199/gallon, crossed the Wabash river into Illinois, and then the mighty Mississippi into Missouri.

Once we got to St. Louis, the springlike vibe shifted a little. St. Louis is not only just as screwed up as ever, it's MORE screwed up because they had a terrible tornado roar through there last May. We drove through north St. Louis (the poorest part) because Rocket Boy's old agency has moved into a new building there, and we couldn't decide whether the wreckage we were seeing was due to the tornado or just to St. Louis. I give money every year to an organization called Mission St. Louis that helps poor people, and I made a mental note to increase my contribution next December.

RB couldn't get into his old agency's new building and his colleague who we were trying to meet up with wasn't there, so we stopped by Crown Candy (bought some delicious gummy bears and some chocolate) and then drove on to our favorite place in St. Louis, Fitz's, where we proceeded to order enormous floats. Even Rocket Boy. This photo shows Teen A's float, which was called a "Pink Unicorn." It's vanilla and strawberry ice cream, Shirley Temple soda, whipped cream, berry drizzle, sprinkles, and it was supposed to have a mini ice cream cone (for the unicorn horn) but it had a cookie straw instead. I got a Pina Colada float, because I wanted something to match my outfit. We also ordered food (I got a hummus plate), but it's kind of hard to eat a meal AND actually consume one of these floats. I took most of my hummus plate to go and had it for dinner later. Rocket Boy dumped most of his float into two travel cups and took it to go.

Rocket Boy finally got in touch with his colleague, Manny, and he joined us at Fitz's, rather late, and ate a bowl of chili with us. I had never met him before, just listened to him and RB talk about really boring stuff on speakerphone, so it was fun to connect the voice with a body and face. While we were there, we bought 24 bottles of Fitz soda to take home with us.

We talked a long time and then realized we were almost late for our reservations (Rocket Boy and the twins had bought tickets to go up in the Arch again). So we all raced around in a panic, drove across St. Louis at top speed, but we got there in time. Our third National Park of the trip! It hardly counts, since we've been there multiple times, but anyway, it IS a National Park. While the three of them waited in line and finally went up in the arch, I walked through the museum and then sat down and waited. It was fun to people watch, see who comes to St. Louis to see the Arch. (The photo below shows me sitting there, looking like an Easter egg.)

After that, we went to the nearby city of Kirkwood to go to the Global Foods Market and buy tea and some other things that Rocket Boy has trouble finding in our area (they're probably here, we just don't know where). Fitting all that into the car, plus the 24 bottles of Fitz soda, plus all our suitcases and the coats we didn't need anymore and everything else we'd bought at gift shops was... interesting. We got gas at a Conoco in Wentzville ($3.699/gallon).

We drove on to Columbia, Missouri, to another Best Western, which turned out to be the worst hotel of our trip. It was right off I-70 and it was NOISY. Oh well. Teen A and I turned on the fan to create some white noise in our room and we slept OK, but Rocket Boy and Teen B didn't think of that and had a bad night. Oh, and the indoor pool was freezing, so nobody wanted to go in it. And no dinner (just our leftovers from Fitz). And the breakfast room was sucky. Not a hotel I'd return to, that's for sure.

Day 6, Friday, March 20th: Missouri to Kansas

Once we were in Missouri, it didn't feel as much like a vacation, because we've been here so many times. But we made a stop that was new to me -- the Harry Truman Presidential Library and Museum in Independence. I read David McCullough's biography of Truman last year and just fell in love with the man -- even though he's the guy who ordered the atomic bomb dropped on Japan. He was such a neat person, had so many setbacks in life, but just kept on trying, wanting to do what was right. Not to mention that he fell in love with exactly one woman in his life and was absolutely devoted to her until the day he died. 

The museum was very interesting and we spent a long time there (and of course bought lots of things in the gift shop, including three books). I bought a postcard with a picture of Truman's office and this quote:

"Not every Reader is a leader, but every Leader must be a reader." 

Then we got back on I-70 and drove through Kansas City to a Bob Evans where we had lunch. We got gas ($3.299/gallon) at the Love's that's in the middle of the highway near Lawrence, Kansas, and continued on to Abilene. I had originally planned to go to Eisenhower's library there, but I'm currently reading Eisenhower's biography, and I'm getting a little queasy about him. For one thing, he's responsible for the mess in Iran! I mean, OK, maybe Churchill is responsible too, and Theodore Roosevelt's grandson Kermit, but Eisenhower could have stopped it and he didn't, he told them to go ahead. It just makes me ill. Anyway, I'll go see his museum another time. Instead, we went to Russell Stover's! We bought a large amount of candy (jelly beans, French mints, s'mores candy, and two big boxes of chocolate), Rocket Boy got a milkshake, and Teen A got a hot fudge sundae, which he later decided he didn't like, so he gave it to me. A very satisfying stop!

And then we drove on to our hotel in Hays, Kansas, a Sleep Inn. It was OK, I guess. The hotel was full, so our rooms were nowhere near each other -- Teen A and Rocket Boy were on the second floor, and Teen B and I were on the fourth! There was an indoor pool, and we finally finally finally went in a pool on this trip -- but it wasn't very warm, and it was very small and you couldn't really swim in it, so after a little while we got out and went back to our rooms. Teen A and Rocket Boy went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner, but I just got some snacks from a nearby travel center (we got gas at the same time, $3.399/gallon) and Teen B and I ate snacks for dinner. 

Day 7, Saturday, March 21st: Kansas to Colorado

It was really hard to get up on this last day of our trip! Rocket Boy wanted to take an hour and visit the Sternberg Museum of Natural History in Hays, which would have been nice, but Teen A REALLY wanted to get home, so we just left. A few miles out of town Rocket Boy realized he didn't have his (prescription) sunglasses. He called the hotel, they found them, and he gave them his credit card number so they could mail them to us. We could have just gone back for them -- but it was at the point in the trip where you just need to go home.

Rocket Boy suggested we eat lunch at Helga's, in Aurora, but I was worried about all the chocolate we had in the car, since it was now getting very hot, in the 80s. So we stopped at Dulce Espresso & Bakery in Strasburg and the kids got smoothies. And then we just went home.  

I had cash left over (I'd taken about $850 in cash with us), so I texted the catsitters and they came right over and I paid them. We unloaded the car. I did a load of laundry. Teen A went off somewhere (his girlfriend's not back from Hawaii yet, so probably to see a friend). Rocket Boy and I went to Panera for dinner and brought Teen B back something awful from Taco Bell. We also got the car washed (it was soooo filthy from the trip). 

And later we all went to bed. For six nights I slept alone in queen bed after queen bed, no cats, nobody to bother me. It was so wonderful. And here I was back in the tiny double bed that Rocket Boy and I share, with its uncomfortable old mattress, and of course both cats had to sleep either on me or RIGHT next to me. I thought I would never fall asleep. I wished I was back in a hotel room. But then I thought -- I'm here with people (and cats) who love me. Isn't that better than a hotel room? I decided it was.

But we've got to do something about that mattress.

Now it's Sunday and I'm on my second load of laundry. The dishwasher is running. I need to pay bills. Teen B absolutely refused to do any homework, since it's the last day of spring break, and I can respect that. So I'm just doing my stuff. In a little while I'll go take a walk. I gained 7 pounds on this trip! I think it will come off quickly, though. It's just from not exercising and sitting in a car all day and eating Skor bars for dinner instead of lovely vegetarian casseroles. And Fitz floats. And chocolate from Russell Stover's. And... yeah.

We're home! 

Getting ready for the trip

Yes, I am posting a day earlier than usual, because we are supposed to leave on our spring break trip tomorrow. Only one problem: we don't have a car! Rocket Boy needs some body work done on the Highlander, our big car that we take on trips. He got a call from the garage last week and they said the part had come in, so he should bring in the car and they'd fix it up right away. He got his dad's old Montero running, so he'd have a way to get to work, and then we dropped the Highlander off at the shop. 

Thursday the mechanic called and said the part doesn't fit, so they'll have to reorder. Rocket Boy explained that we were leaving Sunday and needed the car back. No problem, they'll put the car back together and we can pick it up Saturday. Today, around 11:30, we were waiting for them to call. I said to RB, "You should call them. Don't they close at 12?" So he called. They'd forgotten all about us. "When are you leaving on your trip?" the receptionist asked. "TOMORROW!" "Oh...." Supposedly now they're putting the car back together. It's 1:04 pm. 

...

OK, we're back and we have the car! So one disaster is averted. We have a car. We have a lot of cash, more than we'll need, I'm sure. I like to have $100 per day, just in case something goes wrong with our credit cards. So I currently have $838 in bills stashed away (enough for the 7 days of the trip plus one extra), plus 15 quarters, 8 dimes, 5 nickels, and 20 pennies. I did have 42 pennies, but I decided that was silly, so I put 22 of them in my penny glass. If I come back home with a lot of cash I'll use some of it to pay the cat sitters (12 visits x $15 = $180), and the rest I'll spend gradually. Lots of places around here like it when you pay in cash, so it'll all get used eventually.

I have physical maps for the trip. I went to AAA and got a Central Sates & Provinces map, an Arkansas & Oklahoma map, a Kentucky & Tennessee map, an Illinois & Indiana map, and a Kansas & Missouri map. Plus we have lots of Colorado maps. Just in case the GPS stops working! 

We have reservations for six nights in hotels and I have all the confirmation numbers written down. Sunday night we are staying at the Northwest Inn in Woodward, Oklahoma. Monday night we are staying at the Best Western Winners Circle in Hot Springs, Arkansas. Tuesday night we are staying at the Relax Inn & Suites in Kuttawa, Kentucky. Wednesday night we are staying at the La Quinta Inn & Suites in Evansville, Indiana. Thursday night we are staying at the Best Western Plus Columbia Inn in Columbia, Missouri. Friday night we are staying at the Sleep Inn & Suites in Hays, Kansas. And Saturday night we should be home! 

***

This was birthday week, of course, and we made it through that, although it wasn't easy. My sisters sent cards and generous checks -- the last checks, since in our family we cut off presents at age 18. Our next door neighbor gave them $15 each and Rocket Boy and I gave them $20 each (we figured the average was close to $18). And of course I transferred their social security money to them. And that was it. I didn't have any other presents for them. Nothing to unwrap, no gift bags to open. Truly the worst I have ever done with birthdays. How is it possible that I do not know what to get them? I'm their mother, I should know! But I don't.

On Friday a package arrived for Teen B. He orders things for himself from time to time, so I just handed him the box, no questions asked. Later I found the wrappings in the trash. He bought himself a new phone! I looked at his bank account online and it cost over $700! But he has (or had) almost $15,000 (the social security money plus all the birthday and Christmas money he's saved all these years), so heck, why not?

I bought these two terrible cakes from King Soopers for the birthday (I tried one of the fancier places I had thought of, but they didn't have anything, so I just gave up and went to KS). Both cakes were on sale, presumably because they were old, one for $7.50 and one for $5.40. COULD I have been any chintzier? I don't think so. I wrote "Happy 18th" on the white cake with an old tube of black icing that I found in the cupboard. (Couldn't I have bought a new tube of icing? Apparently not.) Soon after this picture was taken, the black icing began to run (probably from the heat of 18 candles plus one to grow on), and formed a black blob in the middle of the cake. When we cut the cake, the blackness dripped onto its innards, making it look moldy. Neither boy would then touch it. Rocket Boy and I each had a piece, while we watched the NewsHour. It wasn't very good.

We ate out both Sunday and Monday nights, since we couldn't eat out Saturday night (because of the musical) and of course Monday was the birthday. Sunday night Teen A chose BJ's, which is always fine, and Monday night Teen B chose the Teahouse, so that was fun. I had a delicious Mediterranean salad. Rocket Boy told the waitress it was the twins' birthday, so she said, "Dessert's on me!" but in the end, nothing on the dessert menu appealed to them, so we just went home and had (or didn't have) the nasty King Soopers cake.

Both boys went to school as usual on their birthday and the day after, and every day this week. They're so good. Teen B had to stay until 6 pm both Monday and Tuesday, to participate in what they call the post-musical "strike," which means taking down the set and cleaning up the stage, the workshop, etc. So he was really tired on his birthday. But no complaining. My good boys.

On Wednesday I saw my doctor for my yearly physical. I had gained about six pounds since I saw her in September, but she didn't comment on that. She was very impressed by my A1c (down to 6.1) and didn't get mad at me when I told her I'd been eating mainly candy since December and not exercising very much. (Actually, looking at my notebook, I see that I went for 12 walks in February, which isn't too bad. March hasn't been so great, though. Too much wind.) My triglycerides were slightly elevated, which she attributed to my "candy diet." I told her what I'd been upset about, to cause the candy eating and lack of exercise (the diagnosis) and she was sympathetic. She did say, "Most people seem to have a little autism in them." She also encouraged me to consider therapy, or family therapy. 

I had expected her to give me some cognitive or mobility tests, which I thought began when you turn 65, but she didn't. She had a nurse-practitioner in training with her, and maybe that was part of the problem. I didn't mind. I think I'm cognitively OK, more or less, and more or less mobile.

Well, maybe this is enough of a blog post. I really should go pack my suitcase! The one issue that I haven't mentioned is that I'm sick, apparently. I have a mild sore throat, have had it since Wednesday. Teen A had the same thing last week, and after about 5 days it went away. So maybe mine will go away in a day or two. I'm just taking painkillers at night to sleep and otherwise not worrying about it. But it would be nice if I didn't have it. However, I probably won't be doing any of the driving, so I can sit in the back seat and read and maybe even nap.

Wish us luck on this epic journey!