Bye bye, baby

There was a wonderfully specific packing list provided, separated by columns according to the season and the duration of your visit. So it seemed reasonable that I would leave the list with my boy while I ran out to procure a few of the suggested items that we did not have on hand. I highlighted the things that I expected him to assemble while I was out:

 

4 pairs of underwear

6 pairs of socks

2 pairs of tennis shoes (no uggs or converse – uh oh)

6 t-shirts and 2 long sleeved t-shirts

2 sweatshirts and 1 jacket

1 towel and 1 face cloth

2 pairs of pajamas

Wool socks/extra socks

Long underwear

I planned to put the rest together myself, figuring that things like toiletries, gear, and outerwear should be monitored by an adult.

He took the list as I headed out on a quest for real sneakers, snow pants, and gloves. Before I got to my car, I heard him calling:

MOM. What’s a face cloth?

Oh, that just means washcloth.

Why would I need that?  

My baby’s off to sixth grade camp.

He did okay with his packing, although the only sweater-type item of clothing he brought was a cotton sweatshirt that we bought at seaworld about 3 years ago. I made a few suggestions, got him a bigger bag, then organized everything and talked to him a little about how to layer up for warmth. He had mildly disconcerting number of questions, so we had ourselves a tutorial. Long johns, long sleeved t-shirt & jeans, fleece, flannel, coat. Then I showed him what was in the dob kit, asked him to please brush his teeth. I get it about the shower, I do. He’s been told that there are stall showers, but his understanding is that he’d have to open the door to grab his towel, and then walk to wherever his clothes were, and he’s simply having no part of that. Whatever, it’s not like going five days without a shower would be newsworthy.

So, he’s ready. No phones, no computer, no tv, no school. His activities will include a high ropes course, octopus dissection, a night hike, a leap of faith, balloon rescue, astronomy, and outdoor survival skills. There’s snow in the forecast. He's ready.

Bye bye, baby.   

Weekend 3-way photo project

Awwwww, look. A sweet, innocent face.

Awwww, look! Two sweet girls enjoying a sweet, innocent moment.

Awww, hell. What are the odds that all three of them would be sweet and/or innocent?

Fiction Friday: cap-tivating

All of a sudden....

The end.

Ah, Asheville

Reminiscing, as I have been, on our Vitamin D trip to the Sunshine State last year, I've also been thinking a lot about our stops on the way to the Sunshine State. And there is no town between here and Florida -- with apologies to Hershey, PA -- that Mistah and I love more than Asheville, NC.

Ah, Asheville.

My sister Julie lives in Asheville, and Mistah and I have visited her there approximately 18 zillion times, before, during and after our years on the road.

This is Julie's house.

And these are Julie's gorgeous kids. The younger two -- Chapel Hill Girl was busy in Chapel Hill when we visited last February. But we had my righteous goddaughter Erin, and her brother Young Joe. Our visits to Asheville started when all three of them were tiny tots . . .

See?

. . . and it continues to warm the cockles of my heart just to be near these people.

This is Tessie-Dog, Julie's crazed, yet quite loving, and ridiculously fast canine. This doggie is fast.

I used some of these photos last year, but I simply must return to them, because it's not every day someone runs down the sidewalk toward you, to welcome you with open arms to her town, her family, her life.

In fact, last February was the last time it happened to me.

Aw, Julie-Girl.

We went for a late afternoon walk in the Montford section of Asheville. It was a cold cold winter down there, too, but it was not as cold as Connecticut -- 850 miles isn't much, but it's a start, on getting south of things . . .

We'd been driving for a couple of days, so it was great to stretch the ol' legs . . .

. . . and Julie runs about 47 miles a day, so she needed to get out there and move herself, too.

Ah, Montford.

Ah, Asheville.

Thomas Wolfe, Asheville's native son, and one of Mistah's men, is buried in a beautiful cemetery in Montford, and we always visit.

Back home! Thanks for the lovely walk, Jules.

There are strict rules we follow when in Asheville. In the summer, we always go to an Asheville Tourists game. Thirsty Thursday, baby! Mistah always hits the collection of great used book stores. I always borrow Julie's YMCA card and work out in the pool. Julie always throws a party. I always go for a hike (used to be a run) on the Blue Ridge Parkway trail. In the old days I used to walk or bike to her kids' elementary school in the afternoon to walk or bike them home. Joe and I had a lot of lovely afternoons making our way home in those years . . .

And we always -- always -- go out for a meal at Salsa's.

Salsa's!

Last year we were lucky enough to dine with Julie and her business partner Monroe.

Ah, Salsa's. Yummmm........

Double Yummmmm........

Here's one of Mistah Schleckah's haunts.

This is not a haunt but does Asheville not have lovely architecture?



Pack Place. The Diana Wortham Theater is on the right, beyond the camera's scope. We've seen many lovely Chapel Hill Girl performances there . . .


. . . and finally, Jack of the Wood. An Asheville institution. Asheville is famous for -- among other things -- great beer. They beat Portland Oregon for Top Beer City in America in 2010. BeerCity USA 2010! That is serious, people.

And delicious.

And frankly, there is nothing better than a cold tasty beer after a swim . . .

. . . or an afternoon of book-hunting.

Look! Mistah even got me into a used book store on the way home.

Sigh. The way home. We cut our visit short because a giant storm was descending on Western North Carolina, and we thought we should head south to try to beat it.

We didn't beat it.

Note to self:

Next time?

Asheville in the Spring.

open space

Last Sunday, while some people were reliving past years' travels while reveling in Super Bowl hoopla, I took my kids out into the 'hood for a little hike. It's not the same neighborhood canyon that was documented last spring, it's on the other side of the street, aka the hill between valleys. I love that we have such easy access to completely different worlds when we step into the canyon. Every time we go, I scold myself for having stayed away so long. And every time we go, we vow to return soon and often.

It's beautiful out there in the open space.

Welcome to Goober Nation!

Love this body language, a reaction to the buzzing of a nearby bee

My girl is a somewhat reluctant nature lover. She likes the idea of the great outdoors, but she would generally rather sit down than hike, and she scares easily. At one point, I let out a nice, big, healthy outdoor burst of a dainty burp, and she screamed. She said she thought it was a lion roaring. Ay yi yi, that girl.

My boy blazed the trail nobly

This is Jeffrey.

This is a pretty girl observing a Jeffrey.

We had to cross the river bed in a couple of places, as demonstrated gracefully here

And gingerly here

We heard frogs, but we couldn't spot any

Noble and graceful, but a dork through and through.

He wanted to go in there soooo badly. I promised him that I never, ever would allow it. Too much Stephen King in my formative years.

Coming out of the canyon, it's breathtaking to look back at where you've been

And then mosey right on up to the Middle School.

After our canyon foray, we stopped at a nearby park for a little scooting and sunning.

You can't really see the mountains back there, but it was a positively delicious day - clear, crisp, warm, and beautiful.

Why is my chair empty, you ask? I was enticed away by the fitness course that the kids had discovered!
 

I suck at pull ups, but my boy is a champ!

I also suck at tricep lunges, but my kids handled them with aplomb

I do not suck at sit ups, but the photos that my girl took of me doing them were unflattering.

Still unflattering, but I didn't want you thinking that I idly observed the fitness course. I love push ups. 

And I love open spaces, especially with my home chickens.