A Whirlwind Tour

Last year, when we began planning the trip up to D.C. for Heather’s graduation, the plan was to fly up Friday afternoon and stay a whole week, allowing the boys to miss their last three days of school.  (Yes, today was the last day of school – eep!!)  However, a Plan B became necessary when we realized that employment just might not happen in time to pay for four plane tickets up there.  Indeed, it was a good thing we came up with Plan B (thanks again for that shove in the right direction, Mom!), because employment has not yet come along.

So, per Plan B, Jason, Dad, the boys, and I all drove up last Thursday and returned Monday.  (Mom already had her plane ticket booked, the lucky girl!)  Our plans for a week’s explorations of our nation’s capital were squelched, and we instead devoted Sunday to seeing as much as we could without dropping from exhaustion.*

Of course, Saturday was graduation, and I’m sorry to say I have no pictures.  The event itself was spectacular, but I was just far enough away that my little point-and-shoot gave me horrible photos that weren’t worth the effort.  The evening before was the family reception…and boy, was that yummy!  I mean, fun.  It was fun.  The food was yummy.  On second thought, these kind of events are all about the food, so I’ll go back to my original statement.  The reception was yummy!

Left to Right: Me, Mom & the Graduate

So, Sunday, Jason and I took the boys downtown.  I lived in Northern Virginia as a child, but this was Jason and the boys’ first visit to the area.  I insisted that we begin with the Lincoln Memorial.  To me, this is the most moving of the monuments, or maybe it’s just the clearest in my memory and thus the most sentimental.

We have decided that they really need to build a Metro station nearer this monument.  We hoofed it from the Foggy Bottom station, which isn’t bad at all, until you realize you have a looong day ahead of you, and there’s no Metro line between you and the Mall!

That’s okay, we determined; we’ll make it!  (Insert whiny children.)

I’m glad we walked it, though, because we got to see the Vietnam Memorial, and the new-to-me Vietnam Women’s Memorial, in addition to the new World War II Memorial.  Not much I can say about those, except how beautiful and moving they are.

I promised myself that I’d keep this from being an image-heavy, detailed posting of our entire trip…so, just for you, the highlights of the rest of the day:

A walk to the Mall * A rest on a bench * Gawking in the Museum of Natural History, to include: * Whales * Fish * Dinosaurs * Mammals * Quartz, Minerals, & Gems * Meeting good friends at the Museum of American History, to include: * Really expensive pizza and hot dogs * Kermit * Science Experiments * Funny photos * Trains * Ruby Slippers * and a Metro Ride to end the day.

Seeing Washington from a grown-up point of view was a different experience for me.  We’ve put it at the top of our list for a full week’s vacation as soon as we can manage it.

Of course, as we drove back on Monday, the highlight of the trip was Bench Monday.  Bench Monday makes me happy.

At a Rest Stop Somewhere in North Carolina

*We did, in fact, drop from exhaustion, but we managed to belay it until getting back to Heather’s house that evening.

An Event and A Blanket

Two things have been missing from my blog lately: me and crochet.

Me?  That’s an easy one.

My brilliant, fabulous, incredible and now highly-educated little sister graduated from law school on Saturday.  I so want to call her a lawyer and send cute little notes with an “Esq.” on the end, but she says I’m not allowed until she passes the bar.  Details, details.  (I still inscribed the book I bought her with her name, Esq.  It’s fun, and I’m freaking proud of her.  So sue me.  I’ll have a good lawyer soon enough.)  So, we were up in Virginia for a long weekend celebrating, watching her speak (yes, she was elected speaker by her class!), and sight-seeing in D.C.  (Pictures of that to follow later…)

Crochet?  Ah, never assume that the absence of crochet from the blog equals an absence of crochet from my life!  I’ve been working for the past month solely on Heather’s graduation present…and since it was in her school colors, I exercised an awful lot of restraint and did NOT post the progress here.

However!  Graduation is past, and the gift has been given.

When I read about Laughing Purple Goldfish’s Event Plaid, I knew immediately that this is what I would make for Heather’s graduation gift.  After a few trips to Goodwill for sweaters to frog and a session with my Wilton’s and Kool-Aid dyes, I had three green yarns and a gold.  Perfect for a George Mason U. grad.  (This is the largest project I’ve made completely of reclaimed yarns.  Yay!)

The whole idea of this blanket is to utilize the numbers from an important date to create the pattern.  Heather’s graduation was on May 16, 2009, or 5-16-09.  The numbers I would use to make the blanket, therefore, were 5-1-6-9.  I needed four yarns for this; the first would be used for five rows, the second for one row, etc.  Voila, a pattern!

It was going well, until I got to the third yarn in my pattern, and I quickly realized that I would run out of my third and fourth yarns if I kept up that pattern.  I modified the numbers and ended up with a 5-1-3-6 pattern.  I’m not sure if anything important happened on May 13, 2006, but we’ll just assume it’s around the time Heather decided to move to Virginia for law school and call it done.

I have to agree with Sharon’s assessment that this is an ugly, ugly pattern until the very last bit is done.  The pattern is worked in dc, ch1 spaces for row after row.  It’s not very attractive.  The magic happens after the crochet portion is done and the weaving begins.  Weaving is done in the same row patterns, obviously worked in the other direction.  Once the strands are woven through and the tassles tied, the plaid is obvious and incredible.  I can’t imagine a color combination that wouldn’t look great.

I learned an important thing during this process.  This pattern takes forever.  I mean it.  It just goes on and on, especially when you want a blanket of some size, like I did.  I really wanted to give Heather something she could snuggle under on the couch.  I managed to watch several great miniseries on DVD with Mom and Dad while crocheting this thing.  The weaving took a lot longer than I expected, too.  Thank goodness for Mom.  She spent most of the day and evening last Wednesday working on the weaving, and it saved me a lot of anguish and scrambling.

It was worth it, though.  I finished the weaving on the road on Thursday and tied the tassles that night in the hotel room.  It’s one of my favorite pieces ever.

Here’s an idea of the size…Heather says it will be perfect for her office someday.  She wants a chaise where she can curl up and read briefs and cases, and of course, she must have a blankie for the space.  This one has the added bonus of being very tartan-like, which speaks to our proud Scottish heritage.

She looks pretty happy with it, don’t you think??  It even matches her eyes.

Cozy Girl, Esq.

In Like a Lion

March isn’t very nice to girls
It steals their hats and blows their curls
It huffs and puffs with such a noise
I think that March was made for boys

I’m not particularly drawn to ceramics, especially porcelain figurines, but this little girl has been sitting on my dresser for as long as I can remember.  She holds a special place in my heart, and I often looked upon her with envy of her curls, full skirt and beautiful bonnet.  I usually imagine her standing on a low hilltop in England.  The verse comes from the booklet connected to her by the string around her waist, and it goes through my mind like a song every March, all month long.  It seems sadly inappropriate today, as the still, 80-degree day creeps over us, and as usual, I am vaguely annoyed at the implication that girls don’t enjoy a good, blustery day.

I called Mom to find out where the girl came from, and she confirmed that she was a gift for me when I was tiny.  Mom is pretty sure she was given to me by my Great-Grandmother, who was very much into collectibles.  I have to watch myself, because I inherited that love of collectibles (if not of the same types of items), and it would be all too easy to pick up all the trinkets I fall in love with, filling my home to the brim.  Instead, I buy none.  I do have my few Willow Tree figurines, given by family members who know I love them, but that’s almost it.  In fact, when it came time to stage the house, Mom had difficulty coming up with enough items to do it.  I suppose clutter has been my display of choice.  (A decorating technique I am determined not to let back into my life.)

[Edited to add (a few hours later): I discovered just how much that figurine means to me this afternoon.  I left it on the stairs to take back up to our bedroom after taking the above photo and forgot to put it away before the school bus arrived.  It was knocked down by a child who shall remain nameless, and who was so remorseful (having broken into sobs at the precise moment I did) that I cannot hold him responsible in the least.  It's a clean break, right at the waist; I'll glue her back together, of course, but I can't help feeling she'll never be quite the same again.]

Anyway, to March.  It certainly came in like a lion for us.  On March 1, Jason and I awoke in a hotel in East Memphis to find ice an inch thick covering the freeways and welcoming us on our journey across country.  Thankfully, that day was the worst of the weather we encountered in our six-day drive.  We hit thirteen states including our beginning and end points of Georgia and Washington, saw three sets of friends (in Oklahoma, Wyoming, and Washington), and stayed in hotels in Memphis, Denver, and Boise.  We encountered high winds, hundreds of giant, awe-inspiring windmills, and incredible vistas.  I spent my birthday embracing the altitude sickness that has now plagued me both times I’ve made rapid high altitude gains, but it was worth it, for I got new yarn (appropriately – for March – at a store called LampShoppe) and got to spend the evening with a friend of nine years, who I’ve never met in person before.

Driving across country is a pain, especially in winter, when concerns of passable mountain passes are paramount, and you have faulty heat in the car and no snow tires or chains.  But…it is fun.  It is an adventure.  The stark contrasts of land and vegetation from region to region are marvelous and could never be seen or appreciated from a jet plane.  The opportunity for good conversation with your driving partner is endless, and, if you’re the passenger, you get to crochet, read, or sleep to your heart’s content.

As you might have guessed, the purpose of the drive was to deposit Jason in Seattle, where he can focus locally on his job hunt.  It is going well, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for him.  I’m back in Atlanta with the boys, and it looks like we’ll have a contract on the house soon.

In like a lion, out like a lamb.  Sounds good.

Hodge Podge

I have been crocheting lately, just not saying much about it.

A couple of weeks ago, I discovered that a friend of ours had lost her sister.  It was not a sudden death, but of course, it is a tragic and heartwrenching loss.  I decided on the spot that our friend would need a hug, so I spent the week crocheting this for her.

Pattern: Feather Stole by Elizabeth Myers
Yarn: Reclaimed Acrylic/Angora
Hook: I’ve already forgotten (oops…E, maybe?)

If you like it, if you want to compliment it, I ask instead that you visit the Scleroderma Foundation and make a donation with our friend’s family in mind.  Even if you can only manage a dollar or two, please consider it.  This is a disease that – in its most serious form – can completely debilitate its victims, with no known cure and unknown cause.

I’ve felt oddly out of crochet mode since finishing the stole.  I’ve worked a bit on a hat and some other things for the Mattaponi project.  I know I’ll get back in the mood shortly.  I have too many unfinished projects and too many hanks of yarn tempting me from their drawer in the closet.

Today, Mom and I visited Knitch for some yarn fondling and to find her a set of DPN’s.  (She’s going to knit her first socks!)  Yarn was fondled, and DPN’s were purchased, after which we headed out for an amazing lunch.  I needed a few hours of not thinking about the near future.

In a couple of weeks, Jason and I will be driving to Seattle, where I’ll leave him to find a room to rent, and I will hop a plane back here.  Again, Mom & Dad come through, offering to watch the boys while I’m gone.  I’m decidedly unthrilled at the upcoming indefinite period of single parenting, not to mention missing my best friend in the world like crazy.  Still, I know it’s what needs to happen, and it is only temporary, after all.  Jason’s already lost one position to a Seattlite, for the sole reason of distance.  One that we know of, that is.  He needs to be local to get the interviews.

We’ve had two showings in the past three days, after a drought of more than a month.  I hope this is a sign of things to come, and that the rebate for first-time house buyers in stimulus package encourages more lookers and an offer or two.  As our Realtor says, “Everyone wants a deal,” but what ‘everyone’ fails to realize is that they’re already getting a deal.  Regardless, we can’t afford to be too choosy.  Serious offers will be considered and counter-offered, and a deal will happen.  Someone is going to get an incredible deal, indeed.

Last week, we had parent-teacher conferences.  Kalen’s consisted of, “Any questions?  No?  Here, sign these forms…he’s doing great.”  Nicky’s was nearly as simple.  Consequently, I spent too much time just chatting with the teachers, wonderful women all.  Okay, not too much time; nothing but good can come from being friendly and on good terms with your children’s teachers.

The boys have taken the news of Jason moving very well, which leads me to wonder if they really grasp it.  They had been prepared for the possibility of his getting a job and moving before the house sold, but this is a quick decision and thus a quick blow.  We’re working on assigning simple chores that will help them fill Daddy’s shoes and give them some responsibilities and distractions.

Forgive my stream-of-consciousness, a literary style I greatly despise.  My brain seems to be in that mode lately, though, so I suppose it’s best to just let it go.

Toto, We’re Not in Georgia Anymore…

We just had a lovely trip.

Background: I love Seattle.  I’d like to move there someday.  I also have dear friends in the area.  Jason had never been to Washington, so we decided to check it out together.  He now loves it, too, and I am so happy.  (Both because we’re in agreement and because I’ve gotten to spend an entire, uninterrupted week with my husband.)

It was a quick trip, and our friends put us up for a long weekend, acting as both hosts and tour guides.  It was great fun.  To the surprise of several people back home, we had great weather, with only one partial day of rain.  (Yes, Seattle does have days of blue skies and white, puffy clouds.  I’ve seen it and have proof on my SD card!)

Sitting at our friends’ son’s soccer game Friday evening, I looked down and saw this:

My companions laughed at me for taking a picture of dirt, but I couldn’t help myself.  I’ve never gotten over missing brown dirt.  The Georgia clay is just too hard and sticky.  I’ve actually hurt my wrist and arm trying to dig a hole for a bulb in it.  And I love the smell of rich, dark soil, so there you go.

I spotted the next bit of proof that we were no longer in Georgia the next day:

Hmmm…one point to Georgia.  Pepsi has nothing on Coke.  I’m a Classic Coke girl through and through.

A few minutes later, however, all thoughts of Cola Wars had fled my mind:

Lake Washington and Mt. Ranier.  Le sigh.  The idea of being able to see a view like this on a daily – or even weekly – basis?  OMG, pure heaven.

We did do a bit of letterboxing on the trip.  Just two boxes after one of the kids’ soccer games, but enough to say we’d boxed in the PNW.  Jason and I spent a full day and a half just cruising around in our rented, electric blue PT Cruiser with maps in hand.  (He drives, I navigate.  This is one of our very favorite activities in new-to-us cities.)  Of course, we had to get souvenirs.  Jason added to his collection of beer glasses at our tour of the Red Hook Brewery.  Good beer!  It was a funny tour, although maybe not so much a tour as a verbal history with lots of beer samples.  I repeat: lots of beer samples.  For $1.  A must-visit if you’re in the area and enjoy beer.  Heck, I’m not even really a beer drinker, and I quite enjoyed myself.

My souvenir happened as we were driving around on Saturday.  When I noticed a yarn shop, Jason offered to stop.  (All together now:  Awwwww!)  So, here’s my lovely bit of wool:

(Yes, I carried it around in my bag until I found the perfect “Seattle” photo opportunity.  I believe I embarassed my husband and my host, but I was more focused on the yarn and the sign, so I can’t be completely sure.)  It’s Peace Fleece (Worsted, Georgia Rose colorway), and although it’s not local to the Seattle area, I thought the “giving back” aspect of it simply screamed Seattle, so I took it.  I’ve already begun crocheting it into a special something just for me, but that’s another post.

At the market, I couldn’t resist taking a photo of this for my mom.  It’s thanks to her that I’ve never tasted a Brussels Sprout.  (And since they’re basically baby cabbages, I can’t imagine why I’d want to, anyway.  Blech!)

I should’ve asked them where they keep their evil cauliflower.  To my everlasting disappointment, I’m often only witty in retrospect.

Like I said, an all-around fun, lovely weekend.  We flew home yesterday to our kiddoes, and I must thank Mom once more for taking care of them, getting them on the school bus, etc. while we were gone.

Oh, I have one last photo to leave you with, as a reward for reading (or skimming, I’m not picky) this whole, long entry.  I never expected a photo out of the window of the plane to turn out so well.  It was taken shortly after take-off, over the Cascades.

There were never such devoted sisters…

Last weekend, I visited my sister in Virginia. Heather’s in law school up there, and we see each other only once or twice a year, so we were due for a sisterly-type weekend. So, without further ado, a brief photo journal, entitled Sisters in Arlington:

Chapter One ~ Thursday evening

Our heroine arrives at the airport, where she is greeted by our heroine. The two make the brief drive to Our Heroine’s Home, along the tree-filled avenues bordering the mighty Potomac River.

After a brief respite, our heroines enjoy a dinner of Scrumptious Specialty Sandwiches at a local eatery benefiting homeless animals. Our heroines then decide to make the journey to the Olde Neighbourhood, where they seek out the abodes and schoolhouses of old. Following our heroine’s well-honed sense of direction, and relying upon no small amount of luck, our heroines find the second of their Childhood Homes in the area.

Our heroines finish the evening in grand, sisterly style, accompanying the local easy listening station on the car radio at the top of their lungs. Upon returning to our heroine’s home, they peruse the Wonders of Cable and enjoy a period film, featuring an actor from a musical film often watched in our heroines’ Girlhood Years.

Chapter Two ~ Friday

Our heroines spend Friday out and about in the sweltering heat, accomplishing Important Tasks and Necessary Errands.

Our heroine also receives a tour of our heroine’s Educational Facilities, and experiences the wonderful quaintness that is Old Town Alexandria. That evening, our heroines enjoy a gourmet delivery dinner of Chinese Cuisine while watching Ocean’s Thirteen, Monty Python, and That Mitchell and Webb Look. There was Much Rejoicing.

Our evening ends with a Birthday Celebration for our heroine’s dear friend, the Fairy Princess Laura, accompanied by libations and classic bluegrass entertainment.

Chapter Three ~ Saturday

Our heroines being the Renaissance women that they are, Saturday is a day of both woodsy, outdoorsy adventure, and air-conditioned musicality. The day begins with the Ancient Sporte of letterboxing. The first such hunt being a Disappointing Failure (including the losing and Heroic Retrieval of our heroine’s prescription sunglasses), our heroines regroup and reconsider their goals.

The weather being what it is, our heroines decide to make the attempt for easier letterboxes, succeeding in retrieving five.

The day’s success is celebrated by our heroines in the local theatre, where they enjoy a rousing musical film entitled Mamma Mia! The show receives mixed reviews from our heroines. Our heroine is moved to tears several times, while our heroine declares it “okay.” Both agree, however, that a Fun Time was had by all.

The evening is spend at the local tavern, an establishment populated by the finest wait staff and most talented chefs our heroine has yet encountered. Our heroine unwisely overestimates the amount of food and drink her stomach can accommodate and leaves feeling slightly ill, which is in no way a commentary on the quality of food available at the Fine Tavern. (In fact, our heroine cannot stop thinking about the rabbit gnocchi and somewhat incredible pork chop she encountered that evening.) It should be noted as well that our heroine is correct in her observation that, “Javi makes the best mojitos on the planet.” Javi (not Javy) is welcome at our heroine’s home at any time for company and said mojitos.

Chapter Four ~ Sunday

The following morning, our heroine uses the leftover steak and chop to create an Omelet of the Highest Degree, accompanied by peppercorn bacon and French pressed coffee. Our heroines spend the morning in Leisurely Pursuites.

In order that our heroine might not be late for her appointment with Snoop Dog that afternoon, she drives our heroine to the airport shortly after lunch.

Our heroines have enjoyed a fine weekend of Song, Food, and Sisterhood. (Thanks, Swis!)

Mother’s Day – Part II

(See Part I here.)

Saturday night was interesting, to say the least. We knew heavy storms would be coming through, and they were heavy, all right. Fredbird woke up to them shortly after 3am, even with the air conditioner, refrigerator, and dehumidifier running in the hotel room. He turned on the TV and woke us all up. Rotation was being picked up by the radar in our area, and “possible tornadic activity” was rampant. Those little lines that point out the paths of what they think might be tornadoes were running straight through the intersection where our hotel sat.

Tornados freak me out. Twister (the movie) didn’t help a whole lot, either. I held it together, though, and put a big blanket down in the tub, stashing all the extra pillows in the bathroom, too. We were ready to run in there at the first sign of a tornado in the immediate vicinity. After a while, though, the majority of the storms passed, and the boys and I went back to sleep. Fredbird stayed up most of the night, watching the reports and the radar, just to be safe. He’s a good guy. The boys, as usual, were up at 6:15, and I managed to keep them mostly quiet for a couple of hours, but finally gave up and told Fredbird it was hopeless.

We drove to Callaway Gardens, and wow, what a gorgeous spot. I’ve only been once before, about 15 years ago, and that was for their Christmas Light thingy at night, so it was a very different experience. The weather was beyond gorgeous, too. The storms had pushed out all the haze, leaving puffy white clouds and a great wind that rustled the treetops. The letterboxing on Sunday was much more successful than the day before, and we found our first box within a few minutes. (We left a hitchhiker there, which was picked up the same day!) On our way back to the car, we saw a snake basking in a pool by a waterfall. I pointed it out to the guys and quickly backed away (we were on some decking well above it). Little Turtle said, “But Mom, you’re afraid of snakes.” “Yes,” I replied, “that’s why I’m back here. Can we go now?” I have never seen a snake that close up without glass involved. Compared to snakes, tornadoes are like a nice spring day. I don’t do snakes.

Next was the wonderful birds of prey show, on the way to which we crossed over a bridge where people throw [appropriate] food down to the turtles and ducks. Aren’t they cute??? Now there’s a reptile I can love. We also checked out the butterfly habitat before going after a couple more boxes. One was an easy find on a lovely little trail. The other, however…not so much. It was hidden near a stump next to a heavily populated walkway. We were there well over 30 minutes, waiting for breaks in the “traffic” and digging like heck in the leaves. We never did find that darned thing, but I connected online later with another boxer who had found it that day. She said it was difficult, but it was there. Dangit, another bust!

Our last box at Callaway Gardens was on another great little trail near the restaurant. (Here are the boys waiting on the bench while Fredbird retrieves the box.) After finding that one, we drove back through LaGrange for some Starbucks (poor Fredbird was a bit wiped after his long night & needed caffeine for the upcoming drive) and headed toward home.

I had remembered reading clues for the Newnan area before our trip that mentioned being in some part of the Coweta County Fairgrounds. We figured this might be our best bet for a hiding place for the Coweta box, so Fredbird handed me his Blackberry, and I searched out the information. We ended up at the Nature Center at the fairgrounds, finding two more boxes, and planting one of our own.

Sorry if this has been a bit long-winded, and if you’ve made it this far, thanks for sharing our weekend with us! I can’t remember a Mother’s Day I’ve enjoyed more. We left plenty of boxes in the area untouched, too, so there’s plenty of fodder for a return trip!

Mother’s Day Outdoors – Part I

You may remember that I asked for a weekend of letterboxing for Mother’s Day. My guys came through!

We left Friday morning, stopping on the way to pick up my mom and drop her off at the MARTA station. She’s visiting my sister in Virginia this week. Sis just finished her second year of law school – you go girl!!

In keeping with the series of boxes I’m carving to document where the names of Georgia counties originated, I mapped our path and learned that we would be traveling through Coweta County on the way to Callaway Gardens, and our hotel would be in Troup County. (Callaway Gardens itself is in Harris County, where The C Team were kind enough to plant a box for me four years ago.) We stopped in Newnan with a list and Google map of various parks in that city and quickly discovered why those parks haven’t previously been planted with letterboxes. The first small park was nothing more than a poorly-maintained ball field, and the second was a large complex of fields. Unlike similar parks in Gwinnett County, however, there was no walking trail surrounding the fields, and thus no place that would make a reasonably accessible – yet hidden – niche. The third (and last) try was a small park that reminded us a lot of Thrasher Park in Norcross. (See the “kids” playing on its great playground?) Unfortunately, like Thrasher Park, this one was so well manicured that it was obvious any box would be found immediately by maintenance workers. We decided to bag the box for the time being and brainstorm for a place to hide it on our way home Sunday. On the way out of Newnan, we pulled into a parking lot where the boys bought me a Webkinz at Hallmark. They’re quite excited that I’m on Webkinz now, and I am the proud owner of a Leopard Lizard named Henrietta.

Our next stop was in LaGrange, to see if we could check in early at the hotel. We did, and we were given a list of parks at the front desk, so we had lunch and hit the road in search of a hidey hole for Governor Troup. The only park that was listed as having “hiking” had campsites, fishing and a horse trail, but no hiking in sight. The folks manning the camp office had no idea what we were talking about when we asked about hiking trails. Bust. So we drove around a bit, following our noses, and found a perfect spot!

After a nap at the hotel, we headed to Roosevelt State Park to check on the Charles Harris box and try to find some other letterboxes in the area. The box (and a couple of others) are hidden near President Roosevelt’s favorite picnic spot, Dowdell’s Knob. We could certainly see why he loved it so much. (That’s us at Dowdell’s knob in the photo. Check out that view!)

We found the Harris box without problem but had to give up before finding the other box on this section of trail. Thunder started to roll, and since we were nearly a mile away from the car, we figured it might not be safe to stay out in the woods. Dangit! Back at Dowdell’s Knob, we waited around a while for people to clear out, and retrieved the box hidden there. We were dismayed to find that a geocacher had found the box and taken the hand-carved stamp. In its place was a nut like hundreds of others we’d seen on the ground that day. Whether the nut was left by the ‘cacher or by someone else we’ll never know, but it was so disappointing. I hated that I’d have to go home and write to the person who had been so proud of that stamp. (In the clues, she mentioned that she was particularly proud of it.)

By this time, the thunder had started up again, and we were all exhausted and a bit cranky about our lack of boxing success. We headed back to LaGrange for dinner, baths (grimy kids!), and our beds.

My Day!

It occurred to me a couple of days ago that Mother’s Day is coming up, and for the first time in three years, I don’t have to work that day! (I’m on a leave of absence.) I began to think about what I’d really like to do for the day, and I decided I’d really like to spend it outdoors with my guys, preferably letterboxing.

So, it’s set! The day before MD (aka Mother’s Day, aka My Day), it looks like we’re going to drive down to Callaway Gardens. Fredbird’s employee discount will get us a great rate at a hotel in nearby Lagrange, and we’ll pass through two counties that I can do boxes for: Coweta and Troup. My Charles Harris box in Pine Mountain is apparently in need of a new logbook, which I’ll admit is a large part of the reason I chose to visit this part of the state. I’ve never seen the location of this box, as The C Team planted it for me years ago. Of course, Callaway has a few boxes of its own, and the Pine Mountain Trail has several, too. Looks like the makings of a great letterboxing weekend! (And I’ll figure out later how to make it up to my mother-in-law for not being around on Mother’s Day. My mom will be in Virginia with my sister that weekend.)

So, for the new boxes…these will be part of my Georgia Counties Series. Each box in this series is in honor of the namesake of the county it’s planted in. I’ve barely begun, with boxes planted for DeKalb, Gwinnett, and Harris Counties. Coweta County is named for the Coweta Tribe of the Creek Nation of Indians. Boy, is it hard to find information on the Coweta Tribe! The most prominent member of this tribe, according to written history, is a man by the name of MacIntosh, who was half Coweta Creek, half Scottish. He’s the one who signed away the Creek lands to Georgia and was later put to death by his tribe for that crime. Not someone I’m particularly in the mood to immortalize in a stamp. I’ve found a few other articles and websites about the Creeks, but nothing at all in reference to the Coweta Tribe. The few things I have found are going to be difficult to translate into stamps, but we’ll see what I can come up with.

The other un-planted (for me) county on our drive to Callaway is Troup, named for one of the governors of Georgia. There are several portraits of him to draw from, but I’m actually quite inspired by a photo I found of his tomb. It’s striking, and I’d love for this series to be more than just a portrait gallery of famous Georgians. (e.g., The Gwinnett stamp is a replica Button Gwinnett’s signature, as he was a signer of the Declaration of Independence.) I don’t know, though…a tomb is kind of morbid. Regardless, I won’t make the final decision known here, so the stamp will be a surprise!

Camping at Stone Mountain – Part II

Saturday, April 12

Saturday morning, it was wet! Fredbird and I climbed out of the van, creaking and popping, to the sight of a blue tarp tied over the tent. Apparently, the seams had begun leaking, and Dad had jury-rigged the tarp to redirect the water. It worked. I guess all those years in Boy Scouts and the Navy taught him a thing or two about knots. Who knew?

We had another great breakfast of French Toast, and then sat shivering for a while. Mom and the boys made rattles out of wet set clay (cool stuff!), and I played a game of Spite & Malice with Dad and Fredbird. Cards weren’t enough for me to keep my mind off the cold, however, so I buried my nose in Debbie Macomber’s latest Blossom Street book while they continued playing. After a while, Fredbird suggested walking down to Serenity Park. This is a little park area on the shore of the lake at the campground. He knew I’d jump at that, as there also happens to be a letterbox planted there. I grabbed the clue and my letterboxing bag and shivered off down the road with my guy.

We were pleased to discover this box, right where the clues said it would be. There was a first aid alert on the Atlas Quest posting, stating that construction in the area may have disrupted the box. The brand new RV docks overlooking the box’s hiding place are probably the result of said construction, and the families seated on them enjoying their lunches made it somewhat difficult to nonchalantly dig through the leaves beneath the downed tree. Find it we did, however, and the outing accomplished the goal Fredbird had in mind – I had warmed up considerably.

After lunch, we set out with the boys for an afternoon of exploring around Stone Mountain. Each time we go, I’m more and more dismayed at the commercialization and blatant attempts to turn it into a theme park. It’s a park, and a beautiful one, and the stupid “Ride the Ducks” boat-things driving around with tourists quacking over the sides do nothing but diminish its beauty. Unfortunately, I’m barely able to contain my contempt for these “improvements,” as evidenced by my response to the boys’ pleas to Ride the Ducks.

LB: No.
Boys: Why?
LB: Because it’s an abomination.

My poor kids, denied such character-building experiences by their tree-hugging mother!

Anyway, the one touristy thing we did want to do was get one of those old-timey, tin-type-like photos where we all dress up in antique clothing. So, we trekked over there, only to find the photography place had closed permanently. I guess we’ll have to find some other tourist trap town to have it done. Fredbird and I both have pictures of ourselves and our families in this type of photo when we were around Blue Giraffe’s age, and we think it would be fun to carry on the tradition.

However, we refused to stay down! The commercialization and touristization of Stone Mountain Park would not prevail! I grabbed my pile of letterboxing clues, and we decided to see what we could find in the area of the Sports Pavillion. We only found one box there, although we were attempting another series of three as well. This particular series required crossing a creek, which would have been doable if the boys were older OR if it hadn’t stormed the night before. After dealing with the tears that ensued when we discovered we’d have to turn back, we returned to the car, where while flipping through more letterboxing clues, I discovered that there were two or three other boxes we could have gotten in that area. Ah well, next time.

Knowing that the stamps would be gorgeous, we then picked out a couple more of drgdlg’s boxes to hunt, and of course, we were not disappointed. Crazy, in particular, is beyond lovely, both in the view from the path and in the carving. Then, because Fredbird has been wanting to try a box based on triangulation (“Now that’s the kind of clue I like!”), we attempted Big Honkin’, planted at the Quarry Exhibit. Nearly 40 minutes of considering the clue and the exhibit left us high and dry, however, and by this time, Mom and Dad were calling, wondering when we’d be back for dinner. The box will not elude us forever, though. We WILL be back. (I’m sure Fredbird won’t be able to let it rest!) On the drive back to camp, we planned to spend Sunday morning grabbing a few more boxes, perhaps at the Carillon, or down by the face of the mountain. Unfortunately, it was not to be.

After dinner, I reminded the boys of my promise to take them to the laser show. Blue Giraffe was more interested in displaying his new Spite & Malice skills, however, and stayed behind with his grandparents. Fredbird, Little Turtle & I bundled up and hit the green for a strong dose of Southern Pride with a bit of Patriotism thrown in for good measure. I was disappointed that God Bless the U.S.A. is no longer on the program.

Saturday’s Family F-Count: 5

Sunday, April 13

The cold front came through Saturday night. Unfortunately, so did the winds. Cold we could handle. Winds we could handle. Both together, however, made for a miserable morning around camp. Our original plan had been to stay through dinner Sunday evening, but Mom and Dad were less than thrilled at the prospect of such a bitingly cold day. I would have been willing to wait out the morning for some afternoon letterboxing when the sun was higher, but Fredbird had to go home at lunchtime to get some work done. We packed it in and drove out of camp at 10:40.

The weekend was great. The boys had a blast and both now officially love camping. Fredbird and I have decided to buy a tent. (Mom was right, that van was NOT meant for sleeping. Even with air mattresses.) We’ve all been re-energized in regards to letterboxing. And there are still over 100 waiting for us at Stone Mountain alone.

Weekend F-Count: 14