We didn't get lost this time

So far this week, I created, delivered or prepared to deliver four presentations as well as directed my employees in three more. My guys are really coming along but I have been lazy each night I get home and haven't been blogging.

I promised you the story about not getting lost in DC. That memory stands out because it only happened the one time.

First, you have to remember this was pre-Oklahoma City, pre-911...heck this was even pre-John Hinkley. OK, Squeaky Fromme was in prison by this time but that was it. So when I tell you tooling around DC was not anything like you would experience today, you've got to believe me. We must have driven past the White House a dozen times without noticing it. It was just sitting there like any old house in the neighborhood. When we finally saw it, I swear Billy and his hound were hanging out on the portico with a tall cold one while Momma Carter hung out a load of delicates. But that was the last day of our trip, this day was the night before the march. And we had plans.

I told you that HRH was unaware of my spatial impairment and you should know, she was not terribly understanding about it. By the time she found that I not only didn't know north from south but also didn't know left from right, she told me to quit talking to her in the car. I think her actual words were "Quit finding me after I'm not lost any more." It isn't like we had Google Maps or a GPS device.

It was road maps and tourist pamphlets.  And even so, this night she drove straight to the Mall and even found a parking place right across from the Washington Monument. And just as we climbed the hill, HRH looked at me and said..."The camera!" Oh my goodness, we left the camera at the motel. She hadn't taken a single wrong turn to get to the monument and now we had to reverse direction and repeat the process before we could see DC by twilight on the only night we had left before the march.

HRH twisted a bit and turned slightly but she got us back and in line for our last night of sight-seeing and it was everything they promised. I have been back several times but nothing matched that night for the camaraderie and excitement. My strongest memory is of Kenneth. He was a 2-year old Korean toddling tourist. As we all sat around the benches at the base of the white obelisk Kenneth kept us all entertained.

In later years, the tour guides would tell us about what we could see as we peered out those angled windows. When CaDiva and I went back a few years ago, we even saw the eternal flame in the distant twilight. That night, HRH and I stood at one window and then another one and just let the view bedazzle us. I hopefully will be able to find those pictures and scan them for you. But I can tell you this, if they can repair it and you get a chance to go up to the top of the monument, go at twilight. There is no view like it in the world.

When the weekend gets quiet I'll tell you about losing the rental car.

I haven't forgotten you.

We took HRH, the Mom, her friend and her friend's friend out to lunch yesterday. Red Robin ... YUMMM! ... again they made over us all over again because of the nice e-mail CaDiva wrote on their website. Yeah I know, it is the same thing as asking the car to let us in when the 18-wheeler was in the wrong lane at Ragbrai. I don't question it, I just go along for the ride. The Mom's friend got a balloon and an extra cup of caramel shake out of it so we were all good. By the way how many of you use three syllables to say caramel and how many only use two? Even in my head I hear three but then I mispronounce February too.

Anyway, lunch was after taking the Sabrina cat to the Vet. She is pretty sick and we are hoping the antibiotics (which HRH says I mispronounce too) and steroids will make her well and comfortable in that order. We'll know more in two weeks. Hold a good thought for us ok? So after the vet, and lunch, and some miscellaneous shopping I was pretty tanked and headed to bed at 8:30.

CaDiva woke me up at 9:30 this AM to say she was going to the new HyVee...a Whole Foods and Super HyVee store with a Starbucks, this woman is in shopping cart heaven. But before she got back The Mom, her friend and her friend's friend called to say they were coming over to dig up some of our hostas. Turns out she also dug up some of our violets. Only we don't have violets...we are going to find out how creeping charlie does in Texas, I guess.

Shortly after they left, I started helping a friend work on a document for work and she left about a half hour ago. So I'm not going to blog tonight. I have to take the trash to the curb and CaDiva still needs to clear the decks for the carpet cleaner tomorrow.

Another busy week ahead but my plans are to tell you about the one time we didn't get lost in Washington DC.

Look, we can park over there ======>

I have known many a Marine in my life and one of the most often repeated statements (besides "There is no such thing as an Ex-Marine.) is "Marines don't get lost, Ma'am. I'm just temporarily disoriented." Well, HRH and I were disoriented several times on this trip.  One of my favorites was an attempt to go to the National Aerospace Museum. We had been driving around and around looking for parking.

Two things to remember, this was 1978 and there were actually places to park on the street in Washington, DC and we were from Des Moines, Ia...we didn't know there was any place but the Iowa State fairgrounds in August where you couldn't find parking.  So when I pointed to a street running very near the museum on which I saw no parked cars we whipped that big red Mercury Cougar on a two-wheeled right hand turn right onto I395.  Yeah, well I guess you don't see a lot of cars parked on the interstate. But I didn't know that then.

We drove on the Interstate until we crossed a body of water which turned out to be the Potomac and tried to find our way back from what turned out to be Virginia. Then I noticed a familiar sight - the Iwo Jima Memorial. I recognized it from inside our Family Bible. No, I don't know why we had bible with a picture of the flag raising. I'm certain there was a very sensible reason. But remember they also never told me the Priest was speaking a different language.

Well, HRH somehow managed to get us turned back and close enough to the park so that we could see the only image more iconic than the holographic picture of Jesus hanging over my Grandfather's chair. At least in my 20 years of experience. As I recall we parked in an apartment building parking lot and crossed something slightly busier than a side street, but I don't think it was the actual interstate.

I walked round and round the bronze edifice. It was not just impressive by size and familiarity...it was the hands. This was the first time I was moved by three dimensional art.Ok, so my experience at that time was the giant naked angel on a tricycle in Merle Hay Plaza. But still they touched me and I will always remember my reaction. I have been back several times but nothing will ever supplant that gut reaction.

Since we were in Arlington we went to see the National Cemetery. I saw the eternal flame, Robert Kennedy's simple wooden cross, Audie Murphy's grave and the changing of the guard. Unlike the Memorial, these scenes didn't move me as much then as they did in later years. The last time I was in Arlington I watched the changing of the guard (the infantry man actually admonished the viewers to observe silence as this was a cemetery) but my tears had stopped by that time.

I can't tell you when the tears started, but it was somewhere between the Crew of the Challenger and the Crew of Flight 93 when I joined the ranks of adults who can grieve for their nation openly and unashamed.

Yeah, I think I'll go back again.

Lemonade and Sight-seeing

Between the 67 inches of snow in January/February and Hurricane Amelia in late July/August of 78, Washington DC and the surrounding area was just plain HOT and HUMID. That is when it wasn't raining. HRH and I got there several days before the march so we could go sight seeing. Whenever we could find a parking space we got inside any museum we could for the cool air and sights we never imagined seeing.

I think my top five sights were:

5) The Hope Diamond - not only is it SOOO worth the risk, it ruined my ability to wear necklaces. I mean who could fall for that little tri-colored bunch of gold leaves on a tiny chain after you have seen the Hope Diamond.


4) The first ladies inauguration ball gowns. As I remember we walked into a large room and behind a glass wall there was one gown after another. Of course I adored Jackie Kennedy's just because of the age I was born into. But Mary Lincoln's was so tiny and yet full at the same time.

3) Any of the outdoor monuments. The Lincoln Memorial, Iwo Jima Monument (I'll tell you how we found that one) and the Washington Monument (and that one has a story too.) Hey, I know I said it was hot but come one...they are everywhere. You can't swing a dead cat without hitting some sort of memorial out there. And I have to say, if I had that kind of talent, I would built things that big and in bronze or stone or something  eternal too.

2) Seeing the Declaration of Independence and Constitution. It was so near the bicentennial, that may have had something to do with it. But, I mean, DANG...These two were how we got started. Way to go America.

1) The Senate. This may not be as major now as it was then, but when we toured the Capitol building you got to go either to the House or the Senate. Now everyone had seen the House during the state of the union addresses. But there were laws that prohibited photographs of the Senate. So the only way you could see it then was to tour it. And we got the Senate side. I was so impressed by that. 

The major find however, was outdoor vendors who sold pint containers of ice cold lemonade. We drank them at one whole entire dollar a piece - hey, this was 1978 after all. Gas was $0.59 a gallon. As hot and humid as it was, all we could do was find inside museums and drink, drink, drink. We were halfway back to Iowa before we needed to pee. We sweated out every ounce of that sweet-tart-sticky-nectar from yellow waxed paper pint containers. 

Besides cartons of lemonade was a phenomenal discovery. One, who ever thought of selling lemonade in anything other than a dixie cup? And nothing was sold in a pint. I mean now, sure your soft drinks and such come in up to 54 oz cups. But back in '78 you could get a glass bottle of Pepsi, Tab or RC in 16 ounce but you wouldn't want to walk around DC with a glass bottle of pop.

And this was a pint ... I mean a whole PINT. The only wax carton things you got back then was a 1/2 pint of school milk or a quart of milk if you didn't have it delivered at home. The concept of buying a pint carton of anything you could walk around drinking was just so way cool.

But again it is late and I have to get to bed. But I'll tell you more tomorrow. We'll flip a coin, visiting Iwo Jima only because we thought there was parking around that corner or finding our way to the Washington Monument without getting lost only to discover we left the camera at the hotel.

Good times.

Washington DC 1978

HRH and I didn't just turn around one day in our forties and say, "Why don't we go someplace?" We rode a train to Texas in 1965 and a bus back to Iowa in 1969. The return trip to Texas was via plane. But, we returned to Iowa in January 1971 in a Ford Maverick with the Mom, two brothers and a drugged cat named Florence.

After that, there was one drive up to Racine, Wisconsin to visit Grandpa's relatives but my strongest memory of that one was being offered a chamber pot in the event I needed a bathroom in the middle of the night. I only mention that because after a night in a tent, I think a lot about that chamber pot now.

But our first trip as "adults" was to March on Washington DC. Adults is used loosely here, in that I was 20 and HRH was almost 19 but we had no other grown-ups traveling. I talked her into coming with me to march in favor of extending the deadline to ratify the ERA. We stayed in a motel (Days Inn if I remember right), rented a fire engine red Mercury Cougar, dressed for dinner, discovered pint cartons of lemonade, and saw everything you could see in four days.

The adventures started with finding a way to rent a car in the name of one sister who had a credit card (me) and the other one had a driver's license (HRH). Then we had to find our way around Washington where there are four of every road; NW, SW, NE, and SE. Now this is important to remember because later I'll explain that I am spatially impaired. HRH was surprised I didn't know North from South but I also didn't know Left from Right. Apparently that is a fact you should share with the driver if you are going to be the navigator.

Over the next few days I will tell you about our favorite museums, getting lost and ending up at the Iwo Jima Monument, losing the aforementioned Mercury Cougar, and standing among 100,000 other people exercising their right of assembly and expression.

But now it is late and I have a killer day tomorrow.

Double Tree Presidential Suite in San Jose

So in October of 2009 I started this blog to discuss when I travel and where I stay and eat. Today I got an e-mail from the Double Tree in San Jose to say they missed me.  I fired off a text to HRH and her first response was "Cookies".

We stayed at the Double Tree in San Jose on the way home. The plan was to get back to San Jose the day before our flight out. That way we could return the car, get a good night's sleep and have the hotel shuttle take us to the airport. I don't know if I told you we had to fly out of San Jose because trading in your airline miles isn't as simple as it sounds and you really need to book your flight a lot earlier than you think you would.

Anyway, we had saved 4 nights lodging by using hotel points and so we decided to splurge on the last day. Now by splurging you have to remember we hadn't stayed in Motel 8 on this trip. We were in Hilton properties with more than one room and often a balcony. But we booked the presidential suite at the Double Tree, and as HRH pointed out, they did have cookies.

We checked in at the hotel before returning the car. Remember this was a girl trip and the amount of luggage was perfectly reasonable for three women traveling in California for ten days. However, it was more than we wanted to load back into the shuttle at the car rental place. We walked into the suite with our cookies only to discover that HRH could be convinced hotel rooms were more just a place to fall asleep in between fun stuff to do.

She meandered slowly through the dining room into the living room and into the bath before exploring the balcony and bedroom. She suggested that CaDiva and I return the car as she stretched out on the couch in front of the movie screen sized television. We didn't need to worry, she assured us, she would keep the room safe. I haven't seen that possessive gleam in her eye since we rented the Lincoln Towncar to move CaDiva to Iowa back in 2004.  In case I haven't told you, this was when HRH climbed in, stretched out in the backseat, and declared. "HRH LAND!"

Well, she just now annexed the couch and I think maybe the cookies.

CaDiva and I went off to return the car while HRH swam laps in the bathtub. (I still can't watch Pretty Woman without envisioning HRH wearing her Ipod singing to herself while she soaked in that huge-ass tub.)

The only point at which she looked even more satisfied was as we ate a room service meal which included something she called stuffed hash browns. During the meal she waived our attempts at dinner conversation off with a mumbled, "Don't talk to me." All this and we never even made it to the balcony or the swimming pool. 

Even though it was several hours from the nearest In-n-Out Burger and right next to the airport, I would stay at this hotel any day. 

1301 8th West Des Moines

Dunkin Donuts is supposed to be here as soon as September. They have been promising me Dunkin Donuts since Spring. But they have an address now and we checked, the property is no longer on the market.

Ok, that may seem like stalking but it really isn't.

I mean not in the way the Dunkin Donuts feels threatened by my adoration because DD and I have an understanding. I love their coffee and fantasize about being able to eat the donuts even though we know I can't eat their donuts, unless of course they have those double chocolate Boston Kreme. Which they only had the one time but I got one and it was WONDERFUL. But they still spell Kreme with a K and I was raised by the Grammar Police so technically this is a forbidden love and those so very rarely end well.

And you add to this that I have an on-again/off-again relationship with Donut Hut. I mean we haven't actually set a date or anything. It is just that when DD was way down in Texas, except the one in between the A and B concourses in O'hare, I had the Donut Hut. Even when they didn't have a Bavarian Creme they did spell it right but I made no secret of the fact that my heart really belonged to DD.

OK, when I found out they had Farmer's Brothers coffee maybe I might have said something about pledging my soul to them forever. But everyone says that don't they? Really I didn't open a vein or anything. It wasn't an actual blood oath.

So anyway, I am trying to think of the next story I should blog about. It is a toss up between Portland Oregon and Sunny Isle, Florida. They had DD in Florida I think, I'll have to go back and look at my notes. But definitely I need to come up with something to distract me from the DD. Because I just looked up the nutritional facts on a Boston Kreme - the regular one because the double chocolate isn't real, it is sort of a myth that I tasted and no one else ever did. Regardless, I could so afford a Boston Kreme on any day I went to the gym.

Nutrition Facts

Serving Size 1 serving ( g)

Amount Per Serving

Calories 240 Calories from Fat 81

% Daily Value*

Total Fat 9.0g 14%

Saturated Fat 2.0g 10%

Sodium 280mg 12%

Total Carbohydrates 36.0g 12%

Dietary Fiber 1.0g 4%

Sugars 14.0g

Protein 3.0g

Vitamin A 0% • Vitamin C 0% Calcium 0% • Iron 4%

* Based on a 2000 calorie diet

HRH's Birthday and London Closing Ceremonies but I'm not done yet

We had a lovely day yesterday with HRH and her daughter, the mother of little hrh, getting our nails done, a Panera fix and lots of laughs. That is what I missed with HRH riding off on her own in Ragbrai. Yeah, it was great to be able to swoop in with the 18-wheeler and snatch her up when she reached her limit. But there was not a lot of laughing after Wednesday morning. I sincerely doubt I could ride with her even if this exercise diet plan of mine works out but wouldn't it be fun?

So, as I watch the taped delay of the London Closing Ceremonies, I thought I would wrap up this tale. I have to say CaDiva cried over John Lennon and I smiled when Freddie led the audience posthumously in a recreation of his chant from LiveAid. This was the only moment I felt came close to KD Lang at Vancouver two years ago.

I told you about Not-Hank having to go wheels up. What I didn't tell you is that TWC pushed her much of the last few miles. HRH held up a couple of times to let them catch up to her but they kept telling her to go on. That was kind of sad too because I hoped with her youth and fitness combined with a sort of lackadaisical training plan, Not-Hank would be riding along with HRH. I still think the two of them would have had a lot of fun pedaling across Iowa. I knew TWC would be straining at the bit if he felt he had to hang back with them since he is the only experienced rider. But, there is always next year.

We all learned a lot. CaDiva and I will be looking for hotel rooms and most likely renting a trailer for the Highlander to haul the bikes. We also think we'll get a bike for me and a scooter for CaDiva so that we can get out of the Highlander and tour with HRH in the car-free areas. Not-Hank plans on a more rigorous training season. But TWC said he thinks he might bring the kids. It wouldn't be the first year for his son. I still want to see the pictures of the two-year old TWC II tooling around the towns.

HRH learned she didn't rest nearly enough in the pass through towns. She rested only long enough to swig water and then took off again. I remember when her daughter learned to ride a bike she only had two speeds, full-out and fall-down. I think that is how HRH took on Ragbrai 2012. This is another reason I think it would be better if I or maybe my niece (she is young and could probably be bought with a promise of a Mega-girl trip to a mountain, ocean or casino) paired up with her. HRH won't slow down for herself but she would for one of us and then she would stand a chance at finding the pie and pasta.

As it was she still made it to St. Anthony. If she had pushed past there, not only would we have not been able to get to her, but she was at the beginning of a 700 foot elevation making the last twenty miles the hardest of the entire trip. She did make it almost 62 miles, as proven by an odometer so weary it appears blurry in this picture.

When we last heard from her, she was tired but passing through Zearing. I asked her if she wanted us to come get her or to go wheels up. She said neither. Meanwhile, TWC caught up with us in Marshalltown and the four of us started to talk about killing two hours til she got to Marshalltown.

TWC loaded his bike up in the trailer, we started to think about food. CaDiva and I were the only ones who had eaten and that was at the last Casey's we stopped at (and I do mean the LAST Casey's.) Not-Hank had already set her priorities, which was to have CaDiva and I sit on either side of her in the back seat so she would have soft, gooshy places to fall asleep against.

TWC was recommending the original Maid-Rite. That would have been fun. You should go there before the Health Department eventually closes it down. The Taylor Maid-Rite serves loose meat sandwiches as they were meant to be eaten, which is not exactly up to current standards. But no one has died and so I don't have a problem with it. Besides we didn't want to get too far from downtown as HRH would still want to see the giant red solo cup.

But just about that time we got a few failed phone calls from HRH that ended with a simple two word text, "I quit." I think I startled TWC with my change in perspective. I was fairly amenable to all plans up to this point. Now I was in full-out big sister mode.

I told him, She is Here how do we do this? He picked up on my need and went to the road map. He said, if she stays right where she is we only have to intersect the route there. Ok, I texted back to HRH, "We are on our way." The only problems we encountered were my missing sense of direction and the riders who appeared between us and HRH. He suffered the tortures of the damned, driving along side the cyclist.

I explained, in a calm and soothing tone, HRH was at the bottom of this county road and the cyclist would pull over ... DRIVE. Again, TWC picked up on my sense of urgency. He didn't like it, but I think I was scarier than the Ragbrai God.

Well, we never got to see the giant Solo Cup, which, as it turned out, was nothing like I thought it would be.

But, we also got back to the Highlander in Webster City and, from there, to the Village Inn in West Des Moines just in time to eat pie before the biggest blow the state had seen all summer: drenching downpours, gale force winds, trees down, tents evacuated and Little River Band canceled.

All things considered, a very successful first Ragbrai, if you ask me.

Why I can't Blog today

I wanted to blog, but I'm too tired. I got up and ready for work but as I was leaving CaDiva called out the back door with some plans regarding HRH's birthday tomorrow. I turned in time to see the cat trot out the door. CaDiva was still in her nightgown so she couldn't chase her. So I had to...well chase is really...incredibly really, loosely used here.

I chased...well followed her around my house not once but twice. She didn't even have the decency to trot. She ambled along completely disregarding the fact I was following her around and around the house. It was kind of insulting actually. I never got within arm's reach of her even as she crossed out of the yard and into the neighbor's yard. Up the neighbor's stairs. Did I happen to mention the neighbor's yard is basically a cliff side dwelling? I mean we aren't talking the pre-Colombian cliff-dwellers or anything like that, but I started up the stairs only after she started to relax on the stoop. Just as I got near the top she decided to cut through the railing into the side yard.

Well, I can't exactly fit through the railing and while I could have considered hopping it, that wasn't really going to happen. I climbed back down the stairs and worked my way down to the front walk. This is a cliff after all and I couldn't actually get over the retaining wall any better than I was going to hop over a wrought-iron railing. I started my trek up the not-really gently rolling slope of their front yard. It was at this point I discovered the boys next door have a serious ground squirrel problem. Picking my way through the moonscape that was their front yard, I shook the treat bag and said here kitty, kitty, get your little fuzzy butt over here you little... well this is a family blog so I will leave that part of my conversation to your imagination.

I got close to her, close enough to hope. I put some treats on the railroad tie retaining wall but she just smiled at me and said, "I have been watching out the window for months. There are birds and ground squirrels and all manner of beasts here for me to hunt and devour. I don't need your stinking Friskie's hairball treats. Thank you anyway." She is a snide little feline.

At this point she left me to go up on the porch again, through the same wrought iron railing, and then over to our yard again to see if I would follow her. Ok, but what if I had been able reach her, so yes, I followed her. Fortunately I didn't get very far before she came back to find out why the neighbor's min pins were barking at me through the open window. I walked slowly up to the house as she peered in and I probably wouldn't have caught her except she was startled when she heard the neighbor suggest the little yippie dogs  "JUST SHUT UP!" Did I happen to mention the neighbor works nights?

Well at this point I grabbed the cat by her handle. She told me that hurt and I told her I didn't really care. When I got her in my arms, she attempted to shred me to pieces with her over-sized but declawed front paws. CaDiva swears she heard the foul-mouthed little witch call me everything but feline as I carried her under my arm across both yards. Failing to shred my flesh, she bit me and then attempted to give me the finger as I handed her back to CaDiva. CaDiva, however, jumped to my defense when she carried her back into the house and scolded her fiercely before giving her a time out. Did I mention CaDiva is pussy-whipped?

This is why I am a dog person. They may run off but they are not rude about it.

HRH, TWC and Not-Hank are off...

Well we finally got the 18-wheeler on the road and TWC was absolutely right about the traffic. We edged along with little concern we were headed in the right direction since we were surrounded by buses, trailers, campers, and all manner of vehicles bolted to bicycle racks. It was slow but steady as we eased along ever closer to the "support crew" route. CaDiva was in the shotgun seat while I gripped the steering wheel like it was the last cup of Dunkin Donut's coffee in a sea of Starbucks. I was actually doing ok until I realized the Interstate entrance was in the away-from-my-watch lane. 

Ok, I can deal with this. I'm in a HUGE-ASSED SUV with a trailer slightly larger than my first apartment and the only view behind me is from the things they hang on the outside of the car. How should I know how to use those, I never actually looked in one before. I'm used to seeing behind me in the rear view mirror.  Or at least being able to ask CaDiva, "How's it look over there?"

Then I hear a sort of low hum and realized CaDiva, having rolled down her window, is hanging out the car having a conversation with someone out... you know ... there....beyond this behemoth I'm holding to my lane by sheer force of will and my butt cheeks. "Excuse me?" she says with her butter-don't-melt-in-her-mouth, "Can you let us in? This is our first year and we never drove one of these things before." Then she turns back to me with a little grin and says, "Go ahead."

Go ahead? She got a stranger to give us pie yesterday and today she gets someone to hold back the hordes while I slide the 18-wheeler into the next lane over. I do not know why I waste her powers on piddling pies and parallel lane changes. Surely there is some sort of modern-day  John Beresford Tipton, Jr who is just waiting for someone to ask him for $8.33 million dollars. Oh, well I'll worry about that later, right now I just need to get to Story City. 

We tried to talk to HRH on her birthday bluetooth but it is kind of windy out there and so we figured she would call us if she needed us. It isn't like we needed to stop soon, CaDiva gave me a banana and Cheerios in the cab before we started out.  It was really uneventful while we stayed on the interstate until we pulled off in Story City. 

Then we enjoyed reading the team names on the vehicles who passed us. And they all passed us. Big trailers, semis, buses, cars, motorcycles, scooters, motorized skateboards, one spry looking older gentleman in a walker... Hey, not my 18-wheeler and I stayed in the slow lane (at least it was slow behind me.)

When we got to Story City, we drove some distance looking for the bikers. They had what appeared to be a lovely set up in a park just surrounded by no parking signs as far as the eye could see. We slowed down to ask someone who looked like the helpful police officers in Webster City. But looks is all we got. His instructions were we could park wherever we could find a place as long as it wasn't there. So we pulled into a mostly empty nursing facility parking lot and called HRH to tell her where we were. While I filled her in on the drive thus far and determined she was having the time of her life, CaDiva pulled her silver-tongue routine on the nice lady who came out to ask us not to park there. Then she told CaDiva if we went back the way we came there was a Mall letting "buses" park there. 

I managed to maneuver out of the parking lot and back into the flow of traffic, negotiating several turns until I saw the very helpful people with pink flags. Unfortunately the first ones we saw were not in the parking lot. It looked like either a grand home or country club with a traffic circle, round-about thingy. CaDiva said just pull over as far as you can and swing around. I got pointed in the other direction somehow or other, don't ask me how, my eyes had been closed ever since the nice lady told us to go away.

We eased back out onto the road and down a few more blocks and found more very helpful people who held back all the darkness of the world that surrounded this leviathan I was aiming more than steering and helped me glide it into a big old wonderful place just opposite the exit driveway. Nothing but straight shots after we hooked up with  HRH.  A lady from the Kitchen Collection gave CaDiva a coupon (yeah I know I still don't know how she does it) and told her the building had public bathrooms INSIDE and they FLUSHED and they had free coffee. No food court though. 

Didn't matter, we were busy talking to our bikers. TWC called to find out how to get the SAG bus for Not-Hank. We read off the instructions about "going wheels up" on the left side of the road. I also gave him some of the insight HRH's neighbor had given us, was it only yesterday, yeah well she said find shade, most any one would let you sit in their yard if you asked, and pick up some of the trash as you leave. When she was settled he said he would meet us in Story City.

She waited almost two hours but we were stuck since she was smack in the middle of the route and we still had to follow the rules until we got TWC and HRH to the end. The SAG bus would not drop her in Story City, it had to take her all the way to Marshalltown. She said it was loaded full, she almost didn't get on. But she and a lady who had medical needs did claim the last two seats. 

In the meantime, HRH caught up with us. We replenished her water and ice and got her to the indoor plumbing. She was still reveling in her adventure. We tried to get her to rest some but she was anxious to get back out there. She did stay with us long enough to hear from TWC that he had blown past Story City without even realizing it and would meet up with us in Marshalltown. 

HRH took off and CaDiva and I headed to the Casey's across from the mall thinking it would be easy in/easy out and would have food. Now, let me say this, I haven't spent a lot of time at Casey's General Stores before this trip and, as welcome as they were during the adventure, if I ever eat another roast beef sandwich and diet coke from there again I will shave off my taste buds and pack them away in blue paper in a ceder lined box under my bed. Enough Said.

There was one more issue at Casey's ... easy in/easy out was not so accurate. We saw an RV pull out from what looked like a straight in parking place but it was the line for diesel fuel. This is the point at which I discovered the car had something called "park assist" that I didn't know how to use and backing up is a VERY BAD idea with a trailer. HRH said something about me being one step closer to being able to go out with her and her boat but I think she might have been delirious at that point.

In the meantime, Not-Hank had arrived in Marshalltown, found the DQ didn't have AC but the Caseys would let her hang out inside, with cool drinks, indoor plumbing, and no place to charge her phone. She was so patient. I hated leaving her hanging like we did. I know next year we'll coordinate the maps better so everyone will know where we can cross the bike path without breaking any rules. If she had known just how much further she had to go for us to pick her up she might have been able to make it after a little rest. 

I'll tell you about TWC's victory lap, and the rescue of Not-Hank and HRH tomorrow. But now it is time for bed.

Now where did I leave you

Sorry to be so long but between a bad hip and my Gabby, LoLo and Miranda in London, I haven't been up to blogging.

So I told you about about laying in the tent listening to Three Dog Night while CaDiva and I shared one queen sized air mattress in the back room. HRH had another in the "porch" area of the tent. None of us were sleeping so much. CaDiva said she appreciated how hot and uncomfortable the musicians had to be but she hoped they would play long enough for her to fall asleep. The band ended up playing for at least three hours. For future reference, that is not enough time to fall asleep on an air mattress out in the July heat. But, we were pretty much out by the time Not-Hank and TWC settled in.

TWC was sleeping in his truck but Not-Hank joined HRH in the porch. She brought a sleeping bag but was sleeping on the ground cover. In fact, neither of them slept as much as CaDiva and I and we didn't sleep at all. Several times during the night, HRH wondered if she should invite Not-Hank (whom she had met only briefly when they arrived that evening) up onto the air mattress. Not-Hank spent the same time wondering how weird it would be to ask HRH to haul it over so she could join her on the air mattress. I'm thinking of trying to work this scenario into a lesson on communication skills I intend to deliver next month. The names, of course, will be changed to humiliate...ah I mean protect the innocent.

It wasn't long after Not-Hank settled in that both CaDiva and I discovered the temperature had dropped sufficiently to reduce the need to sweat enough that we both had to visit the little chase team room, aka Kybo...in the dark...waaaaaaaaay over there. Do you remember that scene from "Two Weeks Notice" when Hugh Grant got the Winnebago owner to let Sandra Bullock use their facilities? Yeah, so did we. And since the nice lady with the pie was in a Winnebago next to the tent, I tried pointing out to CaDiva that, since she was from San Francisco which is right next to Oakland, maybe she could make a call.. But she insisted she didn't know anyone named Estella and had no way of contacting Mr. Grant. Besides she had a flashlight and intended to walk down to the Kybos.

I opted for the nearby weeds and waited for her to return. She insisted the walk, while interesting and hurried, was not nearly as bad as during the heat of the day. This was fortunate since there were no good-looking young cops on utility vehicle around. Or even an overweight deputy sheriff in a Buick.

Still and all we got it done, more than once. We drowsed and actually slept off and on. In fact, between 4:30 AM and 5:15 AM we were pretty deeply asleep. I know this because about the third time HRH said, "Hey, time to get up." I actually understood the words but was not able to form the response that told her to go back to bed, I was freaking asleep.

So we rolled off of the air mattress, crawled across the floor and pulled ourselves upright while staring into the heat vapors rising from the sauna that was Webster City at dawn. Or my vision might just have been blurry. I don't know, I'm not certain I was able to actually form thoughts in English at that point.

Somehow I managed to get dressed and communicate with TWC. It was mostly something about what the hell he was doing using an electric toothbrush in the great outdoors. He seemed to think it was reasonable but then he slept in a Frigidaire on an upholstered reclining car seat. He and Not-Hank were anxious to get on the road but HRH had to help CaDiva and I break camp.

Ok so CaDiva and I helped her. Ok, we didn't actually help her so much as we didn't get in her way too much. Well we might have been in her way but she didn't complain because she wanted to get on the road too. After the tent, air mattresses, chairs, ice chests, and assorted luggage needed by three women was loaded into the Highlander,we sent them on their way across Iowa. CaDiva and I started out in the 18-wheeler (aka TWC's SUV and trailer) after parking the Highlander nearer the entrance.

That is another story entirely, which involves me abandoning the 18-wheeler along side the exit so I could walk back to where CaDiva sat in our car to explain what I meant by my manic arm movement was "park the Highlander over there".  You would be surprised how flexible a semi is if it is trying to pull around an abandoned 18-wheeler.