Portuguese Camino de Santiago starts here
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Monastery in Belem portion of Lisboa
Gas pump in Lisbon
Stairs into our apartmentLisboa, Portugal
Yes, I said Lisboa again. Yes we are still in Lisboa. Yes Lisboa is the correct way to spell Lisbon. Yes, we are soon to leave Lisbon--well sorta kinda. Yes I have eaten cod fish so many times I am growing gills. Yes our apartment is the height of The Tower of Babel--they speak Portuguese at the bottom and Swiss yodeling at the top where our "tree house" apartment is located. Yes you ask too many questions.
We are planning to leave Lisboa on Monday and fly to Barcelona (bar c loan a) where the Spaniards pronounce the name differently as in barth e loan a or bartz e loan a or some hairlip way in that general neighborhood. Don't get me wrong I love Spaniards but they pronounce their Spanish a little differently. But what do Spaniards know about talking Spanish anyway? Geez here you go with the questions again.
Deb and I took a boat "cruise" around the harbor today. It was cold and windy. I thought it was going to rain on us but Deb liked it. Deb liked all 30 Euros of it ($41). The "cruise" took 1 hour and was okay. Oh well.
So I was running low in a medication so I walked into a drug store here and told them the name of the drug and the man walked in back and brought me out a box of the drug. No questions asked. It seems the druggists decide which drug you need when the doctor tells them what ails you. When I told him the name of the drug it was a drug that an old fart like me would normally take, so he didn't ask me squat. Dang I want one of these. Now drugs involving things that make your head all funky is a different manner or so I am told. I don't take stuff like that anyway unless I have a broken skull (had it), AC shoulder separation (had it), broken bones (had it), cut off fingers (had it, had it--had it twice) and a few other little problems. Okay I have been known to take fuzzy headed drugs once, twice or 400 times in the past. Why in the living Garner am I off on this tangent. It must be Alzheimers. I wonder if that druggist dude can help me out with that too.
I guess I should post some photos. I promise I will when I can.
Hogs and kittens,
Al
We are planning to leave Lisboa on Monday and fly to Barcelona (bar c loan a) where the Spaniards pronounce the name differently as in barth e loan a or bartz e loan a or some hairlip way in that general neighborhood. Don't get me wrong I love Spaniards but they pronounce their Spanish a little differently. But what do Spaniards know about talking Spanish anyway? Geez here you go with the questions again.
Deb and I took a boat "cruise" around the harbor today. It was cold and windy. I thought it was going to rain on us but Deb liked it. Deb liked all 30 Euros of it ($41). The "cruise" took 1 hour and was okay. Oh well.
So I was running low in a medication so I walked into a drug store here and told them the name of the drug and the man walked in back and brought me out a box of the drug. No questions asked. It seems the druggists decide which drug you need when the doctor tells them what ails you. When I told him the name of the drug it was a drug that an old fart like me would normally take, so he didn't ask me squat. Dang I want one of these. Now drugs involving things that make your head all funky is a different manner or so I am told. I don't take stuff like that anyway unless I have a broken skull (had it), AC shoulder separation (had it), broken bones (had it), cut off fingers (had it, had it--had it twice) and a few other little problems. Okay I have been known to take fuzzy headed drugs once, twice or 400 times in the past. Why in the living Garner am I off on this tangent. It must be Alzheimers. I wonder if that druggist dude can help me out with that too.
I guess I should post some photos. I promise I will when I can.
Hogs and kittens,
Al
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Melide, Spain 52 kms to go
We had a productive day today. We walked a little over 20 kilometers which is about 12.5 miles yet 52 kilometers remain. I really think we have my health problems under control. Waguih (who is a doctor) saw first hand what was happening to me and changed a medication I take and I didn't recognize myself today. No more excessive sweating. I now know I must eat a little of certain foods regularly (like every 1-2 hours max due to another problem) and I have a tremendous amount of energy. Life has changed for me but Waguih's feet are really blistering due to the walking. Each day brings another blister for him. It hurts to just hear about it. I guess I suffered during the first part last month, and he is suffering now.
We were walking through Palas de Rei today, and we saw this really beautiful church that was open, so we decided to go inside. We collect stamps along the way on this thing called a credencial that is used to prove you actually walked the camino so you can get a certificate proving you walked it. The stamps are available at churches, places to sleep, places to eat, shops, etc. The certificate is a very, very big deal for pilgrims so getting these stamps is of paramount importance. Anyway, as we were going into the church in Palas de Rei, I saw a sign that said the church had a stamp. We we went inside and walked around this beautiful church and then walked into this backroom where this old guy was stamping pilgrim credencials. So I waited my turn and the guy stamped my credencial and as soon as he finished he pointed to the money jar sitting on the table meaning I was supposed to give a donation. I guess everything has its price.
Deb and Sandra are keeping themselves busy and having fun. I'm not sure what they are doing but I know they aren't riding around throwing water balloons on pilgrims because somebody would tell me. Like the saying goes, if it ain't broken don't fix it.
I'm sorry I don't write more. We don't seem to have a lot of free time. Talk to Yall tomorrow.
We were walking through Palas de Rei today, and we saw this really beautiful church that was open, so we decided to go inside. We collect stamps along the way on this thing called a credencial that is used to prove you actually walked the camino so you can get a certificate proving you walked it. The stamps are available at churches, places to sleep, places to eat, shops, etc. The certificate is a very, very big deal for pilgrims so getting these stamps is of paramount importance. Anyway, as we were going into the church in Palas de Rei, I saw a sign that said the church had a stamp. We we went inside and walked around this beautiful church and then walked into this backroom where this old guy was stamping pilgrim credencials. So I waited my turn and the guy stamped my credencial and as soon as he finished he pointed to the money jar sitting on the table meaning I was supposed to give a donation. I guess everything has its price.
Deb and Sandra are keeping themselves busy and having fun. I'm not sure what they are doing but I know they aren't riding around throwing water balloons on pilgrims because somebody would tell me. Like the saying goes, if it ain't broken don't fix it.
I'm sorry I don't write more. We don't seem to have a lot of free time. Talk to Yall tomorrow.
Friday, June 21, 2013
2013 Canada Trip--Mud, Hail, The Band-- Saskatoon, SK Canada June 21, 2013
Before you start saying how did they get from Colorado to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan Canada so fast, let me say that we have been through parts of the US and Canada that have not been inhabited since The Lewis and Clark Expedition--well sort of. We stayed in one place just above the border that had no TV stations, no satellite signal, and no cell service. In all our travels we have not had a situation like that before. The satellite service was interrupted by the only dang tree in the entire region, and we were assigned to dock The Love Boat next to it. Geez. Deb's mom had never heard of the town before even though it is Saskatchewan. The town's name was Oungre, SK. The town's motto should be (when they get more than 5 people in the town) "Come here and get away from all those nasty electronic devices". Holy moly. Maybe I should tell you a little about where we are at and then about how we got here.
In case you didn't catch it the first time, we are in Saskatoon, SK. This city has a population of about 250,000 people which is about 60% the size of Raleighwood. And no I didn't fact check that last statement and anyone that does will be given a 2 month vacation in Oungre, SK as my personal thanks. We are in a fairly nice campground about 5 miles from Deb's parents. When we left Oungre we stopped in Regina, SK (pronounced re jina not re gina) for fuel. I went into the store to pay for fuel because the stupid pump outside discriminated against Amerikan credit cards. Amerikans being people from the USA. So I walked up the line at the register and the people in the line stopped and looked me over like I was a celebrity or something. The gawking went on for an uncomfortably long time. An evil thought went though my mind as I started to tell them that they had in fact discovered a celebrity and my name is Harry B Hind and my band, The Big Old Dumb Southern Boys, and my manager were in the motorhome. The two little band members with the long hair worked in a rock hair band and never cut their hair and they sang like howling dogs but they played gitars real good. So I don't let them sang too much. And if the locals wanted to come see us play for free they should go up to my manager, the one with the big boobs, and give her the secret saying indicting they were members of my fan club, and she would give them free tickets to the poopy palace I was playing that night. The secret password being, "I love Harry B. Hind and Big Ole Dumb Southern Boys rock". I actually did think. I could just see those idjits walking up to Deb and saying the secret phrase. I guarantee the band members would have sang for them.
We went through a town on the way up called Willston, ND that was amazing. The town was bursting at the seams due to the oil business. We saw several new housing projects that consisted of nothing more than FEMA style trailers lined up in rows making huge trailer parks. A FEMA style trailer are meant for no frills, temporary housing and these trailers had nothing to do with FEMA. . The definition of temporary is subjective. There were many of these parks there with exactly the same trailers all lined up in neat rows in a village of hundreds of trailers. The trailers and mobile home villages were meant to house the oil industry workers that lived there to work. Before we got to Willston the traffic on the highway was most non-existent then suddenly we came into a sea of semi trucks, dump trucks, welding trucks, and pickup trucks all in support of the oil industry. You have to realize this town was a very long distance from another town. In addition, the cost of things rose accordingly because the businesses were having difficulty finding people for jobs. The one price rise that I noticed very quickly was the cost of gasoline and diesel jumping up 50 cents a gallon from just 100 miles away. We saw a sea of oil pumps and tanks everywhere. And every moving vehicle was muddy except ours which changed immediately.
The Love Boat and Crapper (motorhome and car) are covered in mud. I don't mean dirt I mean mud. I got onto the roof to check for damage from the storm (I will explain that shortly) and the roof was covered in mud. The mud came from 2 places. The rain was spotty and dirt from the blowing sand from trucks pulling off on onto dirt roads was tremendous. I mean clouds of dirt that stuck to a wet RV like glue. The other source was the road construction that was going on to support the oil industry. Entire sections of US85 were torn apart for miles and miles. I mean both lanes of a 2 lane road or rather a single lane road. The heavy machinery had the place an entire mess. We drove through mud and mud was slung onto the motorhome by heavy machinery and passing dumptrucks. Geez what a mess. In Canada the sand from the winter road maintenance made more mud that traffic slung onto us. Okay, you get the picture, everything is a mess.
In Oungre, we had a storm land on us. The storm brought a few inches of water that left mud and huge, huge pools of standing water in the campground. I do mean huge. What wasn't underwater was a thick layer of mud. I thought we were going to get stuck trying to get out. I really was worried. To make matters worse the storm brought hail that thoroughly blasted the car and motorhome. It punched holes in the slide-out awnings on The Love Boat. I am sure there was other damage but everything is so covered in mud that I can't see it just yet.
I have whined enough. I will update the blog with Mt Rushmore and Deadwood, SD entries in the next few days. Stay out of the hail. See yall later. Oh, I forgot to mention that we went through many places where The Lewis and Clark Expedition traveled. Too cool.
Al
In case you didn't catch it the first time, we are in Saskatoon, SK. This city has a population of about 250,000 people which is about 60% the size of Raleighwood. And no I didn't fact check that last statement and anyone that does will be given a 2 month vacation in Oungre, SK as my personal thanks. We are in a fairly nice campground about 5 miles from Deb's parents. When we left Oungre we stopped in Regina, SK (pronounced re jina not re gina) for fuel. I went into the store to pay for fuel because the stupid pump outside discriminated against Amerikan credit cards. Amerikans being people from the USA. So I walked up the line at the register and the people in the line stopped and looked me over like I was a celebrity or something. The gawking went on for an uncomfortably long time. An evil thought went though my mind as I started to tell them that they had in fact discovered a celebrity and my name is Harry B Hind and my band, The Big Old Dumb Southern Boys, and my manager were in the motorhome. The two little band members with the long hair worked in a rock hair band and never cut their hair and they sang like howling dogs but they played gitars real good. So I don't let them sang too much. And if the locals wanted to come see us play for free they should go up to my manager, the one with the big boobs, and give her the secret saying indicting they were members of my fan club, and she would give them free tickets to the poopy palace I was playing that night. The secret password being, "I love Harry B. Hind and Big Ole Dumb Southern Boys rock". I actually did think. I could just see those idjits walking up to Deb and saying the secret phrase. I guarantee the band members would have sang for them.
We went through a town on the way up called Willston, ND that was amazing. The town was bursting at the seams due to the oil business. We saw several new housing projects that consisted of nothing more than FEMA style trailers lined up in rows making huge trailer parks. A FEMA style trailer are meant for no frills, temporary housing and these trailers had nothing to do with FEMA. . The definition of temporary is subjective. There were many of these parks there with exactly the same trailers all lined up in neat rows in a village of hundreds of trailers. The trailers and mobile home villages were meant to house the oil industry workers that lived there to work. Before we got to Willston the traffic on the highway was most non-existent then suddenly we came into a sea of semi trucks, dump trucks, welding trucks, and pickup trucks all in support of the oil industry. You have to realize this town was a very long distance from another town. In addition, the cost of things rose accordingly because the businesses were having difficulty finding people for jobs. The one price rise that I noticed very quickly was the cost of gasoline and diesel jumping up 50 cents a gallon from just 100 miles away. We saw a sea of oil pumps and tanks everywhere. And every moving vehicle was muddy except ours which changed immediately.
The Love Boat and Crapper (motorhome and car) are covered in mud. I don't mean dirt I mean mud. I got onto the roof to check for damage from the storm (I will explain that shortly) and the roof was covered in mud. The mud came from 2 places. The rain was spotty and dirt from the blowing sand from trucks pulling off on onto dirt roads was tremendous. I mean clouds of dirt that stuck to a wet RV like glue. The other source was the road construction that was going on to support the oil industry. Entire sections of US85 were torn apart for miles and miles. I mean both lanes of a 2 lane road or rather a single lane road. The heavy machinery had the place an entire mess. We drove through mud and mud was slung onto the motorhome by heavy machinery and passing dumptrucks. Geez what a mess. In Canada the sand from the winter road maintenance made more mud that traffic slung onto us. Okay, you get the picture, everything is a mess.
In Oungre, we had a storm land on us. The storm brought a few inches of water that left mud and huge, huge pools of standing water in the campground. I do mean huge. What wasn't underwater was a thick layer of mud. I thought we were going to get stuck trying to get out. I really was worried. To make matters worse the storm brought hail that thoroughly blasted the car and motorhome. It punched holes in the slide-out awnings on The Love Boat. I am sure there was other damage but everything is so covered in mud that I can't see it just yet.
I have whined enough. I will update the blog with Mt Rushmore and Deadwood, SD entries in the next few days. Stay out of the hail. See yall later. Oh, I forgot to mention that we went through many places where The Lewis and Clark Expedition traveled. Too cool.
Al
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
2013 Canada Trip--Bikers, Red Rock-- Denver CO --June 15, 2013
Hello from Golden Colorado which is right next to Denver. Nebraska is a memory after a 450 mile drive. The total miles that I have driven is 1800 miles. The driving is beginning to get to me. The Puppies hair fell out days ago from the road noise, more specifically the brrrruuuupppppttttt sound of the warning strips on the side of the road. Monty has a nuclear meltdown each time the wind or traffic blows us to the side and I run over the warning strips. In Nebraska a warning strip was on the center line as well as the side line. Monty is not a happy camper. We have 1000 or more miles to go until we reach Saskatchewan.
We dropped anchor in a campground across from a biker bar. I should say we dropped anchor in the Mecca for loud bikes with full fledged dirt bags riding them as well as the new fashionable, college educated dirt bag wanna bees that ride them. All night and day long the bikes passed by the campground as well as the loud biker bar across the street. After we dropped anchor Deb heard a band playing, and so she decided we should walk over to Dirt Bag Roadhouse and listen to the band. I didn't think much about it until we walked up to the place with the dogs. Of course Monty and Riley make friends everywhere they go and as soon as we walked up a dirt bag wanted to pet them. Of course we said okay, but I quickly had second thoughts because that guy would likely give Monty and Riley fleas. As it turned out, this place was full of smelly, nasty, dirt bags that like to sit on loud Harley Davidson motorcycles racing their motors going broom, broom, broom. I think the matter falls under "The Mommy Look At Me Syndrome" as it was taught to me in Southern Boy University Psychics (pronounced physics) Department. I surmised that when the dirt bags were little dirt bags growing up their mommies wouldn't pay attention to them so they lacked parental attention . In order to garner the needed attention they quit bathing, grew their hair long, and started sitting on loud motorcycles going broom broom wanting the rest of us to act as attention surrogates for Mommy Dirtbag. So anyway Dirt Bag Roadhouse had a deck outside that allowed dogs. Monty and Riley were excited because everybody on the porch smelled like they had been rolling in poop just like Monty and Riley liked to do. So Deb and The Puppies got a table on the patio while I went inside to get us something to drink. I looked around the place trying to decide how many of these dirt bags I would need to whip before they learned to keep their opinions to themselves. But the dirt bags weren't as stupid as they looked but dang near as smelly. I walked up to the bar where a vicious looking dyke snarled at me and immediately recognized me as a person fond of bathing and getting haircuts. I have that trouble everywhere I go. I thought I was going to have to whip her wide butt too, but she realized she wanted to go home that night to her female (sort of) Mick Jagger looking "partner" and play Bull Dyke Monopoly or somesuch. So she snarled and begrudgingly gave me a Corona for Deb and a Diet Coke for me. I thought she was going to say something about the Diet Coke but she realized she wanted to put hotels on Miss Skank's Boardwalk later in the evening instead of rushing to the hospital for a Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy shoe in the buttectomy. It was a good thing too because I only brought the one pair of walking shoes and would need them. So I went back outside where Deb and The Puppies were and someone had gotten Monty and Riley a bowl of water. I sat down and waited for the bell to ring to start round one between The Dirt Bags and Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy, but it didn't happen. Instead we finished our drinks then walked back to The Love Boat and listened to more dirtbags with loud bikes pass by The Love Boat for the next 48 hours. The next day we had lunch with Deb's cousin and her husband that live there. No they don't ride a bike.
Deb's cousin gave us some tips on things to see around town. One of my most favorite was Red Rocks Amphitheater. Red Rocks was built into the side of a mountain during the first part of the 20th century. Red Rocks and has been legendary with musicians for decades. Red Rock has always been considered an honor for musicians to perform there. Red Rock's Museum was astounding with signed guitars and stuff from music legends. But you don't want to hear about that, right? Well we walked down to get a photo of the theater and an exercise class with hundreds of people was using the rowed seating as an exercise area. Before I go on you need to envision us standing looking down into the amphitheater with dozens of long rows of solid concrete benches going down to the stage. Got it? Okay. These people were jumping up on one row of seats then hopping up a level and doing the same thing over and over again while some jackass with a microphone told them to do it. I was a little perturbed that these people would screw up my pictureb but I got out my camera and looked through the viewfinder and focused the lens when I noticed the idjits were no longer jumping up on the seats but had now turned and were crawling down the seats with their butts up in the air pointed right at us. I kid you not they were crawling on their hands and knees down the seats. I got a picture of the idjits but can't post it until we get to Saskatoon, and I find the computer thing that will allow me to extract it from the camera's memory card. It is worth the wait as the, photo is hilarious.
We did some other stuff in the Golden/Denver area that I won't go into right now. Tomorrow we leave for the Black Hills of South Dakota where Mt. Rushmore is located. Have a great day and bye for now.
We dropped anchor in a campground across from a biker bar. I should say we dropped anchor in the Mecca for loud bikes with full fledged dirt bags riding them as well as the new fashionable, college educated dirt bag wanna bees that ride them. All night and day long the bikes passed by the campground as well as the loud biker bar across the street. After we dropped anchor Deb heard a band playing, and so she decided we should walk over to Dirt Bag Roadhouse and listen to the band. I didn't think much about it until we walked up to the place with the dogs. Of course Monty and Riley make friends everywhere they go and as soon as we walked up a dirt bag wanted to pet them. Of course we said okay, but I quickly had second thoughts because that guy would likely give Monty and Riley fleas. As it turned out, this place was full of smelly, nasty, dirt bags that like to sit on loud Harley Davidson motorcycles racing their motors going broom, broom, broom. I think the matter falls under "The Mommy Look At Me Syndrome" as it was taught to me in Southern Boy University Psychics (pronounced physics) Department. I surmised that when the dirt bags were little dirt bags growing up their mommies wouldn't pay attention to them so they lacked parental attention . In order to garner the needed attention they quit bathing, grew their hair long, and started sitting on loud motorcycles going broom broom wanting the rest of us to act as attention surrogates for Mommy Dirtbag. So anyway Dirt Bag Roadhouse had a deck outside that allowed dogs. Monty and Riley were excited because everybody on the porch smelled like they had been rolling in poop just like Monty and Riley liked to do. So Deb and The Puppies got a table on the patio while I went inside to get us something to drink. I looked around the place trying to decide how many of these dirt bags I would need to whip before they learned to keep their opinions to themselves. But the dirt bags weren't as stupid as they looked but dang near as smelly. I walked up to the bar where a vicious looking dyke snarled at me and immediately recognized me as a person fond of bathing and getting haircuts. I have that trouble everywhere I go. I thought I was going to have to whip her wide butt too, but she realized she wanted to go home that night to her female (sort of) Mick Jagger looking "partner" and play Bull Dyke Monopoly or somesuch. So she snarled and begrudgingly gave me a Corona for Deb and a Diet Coke for me. I thought she was going to say something about the Diet Coke but she realized she wanted to put hotels on Miss Skank's Boardwalk later in the evening instead of rushing to the hospital for a Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy shoe in the buttectomy. It was a good thing too because I only brought the one pair of walking shoes and would need them. So I went back outside where Deb and The Puppies were and someone had gotten Monty and Riley a bowl of water. I sat down and waited for the bell to ring to start round one between The Dirt Bags and Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy, but it didn't happen. Instead we finished our drinks then walked back to The Love Boat and listened to more dirtbags with loud bikes pass by The Love Boat for the next 48 hours. The next day we had lunch with Deb's cousin and her husband that live there. No they don't ride a bike.
Deb's cousin gave us some tips on things to see around town. One of my most favorite was Red Rocks Amphitheater. Red Rocks was built into the side of a mountain during the first part of the 20th century. Red Rocks and has been legendary with musicians for decades. Red Rock has always been considered an honor for musicians to perform there. Red Rock's Museum was astounding with signed guitars and stuff from music legends. But you don't want to hear about that, right? Well we walked down to get a photo of the theater and an exercise class with hundreds of people was using the rowed seating as an exercise area. Before I go on you need to envision us standing looking down into the amphitheater with dozens of long rows of solid concrete benches going down to the stage. Got it? Okay. These people were jumping up on one row of seats then hopping up a level and doing the same thing over and over again while some jackass with a microphone told them to do it. I was a little perturbed that these people would screw up my pictureb but I got out my camera and looked through the viewfinder and focused the lens when I noticed the idjits were no longer jumping up on the seats but had now turned and were crawling down the seats with their butts up in the air pointed right at us. I kid you not they were crawling on their hands and knees down the seats. I got a picture of the idjits but can't post it until we get to Saskatoon, and I find the computer thing that will allow me to extract it from the camera's memory card. It is worth the wait as the, photo is hilarious.
We did some other stuff in the Golden/Denver area that I won't go into right now. Tomorrow we leave for the Black Hills of South Dakota where Mt. Rushmore is located. Have a great day and bye for now.
Monday, June 17, 2013
2013 Canada Trip Pioneer Village-- Minden,NE-- June 27, 2013
Let's see. Where do I start whining today? I could talk about the wind during the drive from Lincoln, NE to Minden, NE. I'll sum it up with, it sucked and made my life miserable for 120 miles. Regardless, hello from Minden, NE.
Minden is a town in the center of Nebraska. Minden is a hundred miles from anything except fields of corn. Corn, corn, corn, and more corn. If I said corn another 250 times you would know what it is like driving in Nebraska. Oops. I meant wind, corn, wind, corn, wind, corn, etc. Now that is what it is like driving in Nebraska. We dropped The Love Boat's anchor behind the Pioneer Village Museum which was the reason for being in Minden besides spending time with Army Buddy. Minden used to be a thriving town on US 6 which was a major thorofare for folks heading out west. But, when the interstate was constructed 13 miles north of Minden, the town started its slow slide into non-existence. I can say that about hundreds or thousands of towns around the US. This guys named Harold Warp put Minden on the map a long time ago when he started Pioneer Village. Harold Warp made his money in plastics and more specifically Jiffy Wrap (you old codgers will remember Jiffy Wrap). Warp was born in Minden and made his money in Chicago but put the museum in Minden. I guess he didn't like Yankees either. The museum prospered until Warp died and the interstate was built. Your history lesson is over.
After we dropped anchor in Minden, Deb, Army Buddy, and The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy went to the Pioneer Village Restaurant which was a short walk from The Love Boat. What a dive that "restaurant" was. The food looked and tasted like it had been preserved in a museum. I now know why we were the only people in the place. Yuck. But, while the slop was being "prepared" in the "kitchen" we walked around in the building. They had an incredible collection of carvings from famous sculptors in air tight cases built into the walls of the restaurant. Incredible wouldn't properly describe the collection. The display had tiny cards typed on a typewriter (here you old codgers will again remember a typewriter) describing the artist and usual stuff about the piece. Near the bathroom, there was a collection of old mechanical banks with the hand typed little cards in front of each. The late 19th and early 20th century mechanical banks were depicting black people in various states considered humorous at that time. The amazing thing I found was the little hand typed cards. The cards used words like darkey, negro boy, etc. in the descriptions. Those cards must have been 40 or more years old and were still being displayed. After eating in the restaurant I knew that we were the only people that had been in there in 40 years, so I guess we were the first to read them in 40 years. The little cards were a precursor to the museum.
The museum was amazing and astounding. Warp collected all kinds of things like an entire series of cars from a manufacturer (most manufactures including Hudson) were on display in 22 huge buildings. There was an entire building of old household appliances. There was an entire building of just about anything you can think of including an entire history of lawnmowers and chainsaws. There was a real Pony Express shack, a prairie school house, and an entire series of covered wagons. All of this stuff was kept in some ratty buildings. When Warp died the kids took over and are running the place into non-existence just like Minden. Holy moly this place was a miniature Smithsonian in ratty buildings in the windswept farms of Nebraska about 100 miles on the other side of nowhere. Army Buddy knew about this place and told me that we would go through it when The Love Boat sailed through town, and we did. Thanks Army Buddy.
Dude. Nothing funny occurred again today. Zilch,nada, nyet. I think the corn is effecting my brain. Tomorrow we are headed to Denver. I know funny things reside there.
See Yall tomorrow.
Minden is a town in the center of Nebraska. Minden is a hundred miles from anything except fields of corn. Corn, corn, corn, and more corn. If I said corn another 250 times you would know what it is like driving in Nebraska. Oops. I meant wind, corn, wind, corn, wind, corn, etc. Now that is what it is like driving in Nebraska. We dropped The Love Boat's anchor behind the Pioneer Village Museum which was the reason for being in Minden besides spending time with Army Buddy. Minden used to be a thriving town on US 6 which was a major thorofare for folks heading out west. But, when the interstate was constructed 13 miles north of Minden, the town started its slow slide into non-existence. I can say that about hundreds or thousands of towns around the US. This guys named Harold Warp put Minden on the map a long time ago when he started Pioneer Village. Harold Warp made his money in plastics and more specifically Jiffy Wrap (you old codgers will remember Jiffy Wrap). Warp was born in Minden and made his money in Chicago but put the museum in Minden. I guess he didn't like Yankees either. The museum prospered until Warp died and the interstate was built. Your history lesson is over.
After we dropped anchor in Minden, Deb, Army Buddy, and The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy went to the Pioneer Village Restaurant which was a short walk from The Love Boat. What a dive that "restaurant" was. The food looked and tasted like it had been preserved in a museum. I now know why we were the only people in the place. Yuck. But, while the slop was being "prepared" in the "kitchen" we walked around in the building. They had an incredible collection of carvings from famous sculptors in air tight cases built into the walls of the restaurant. Incredible wouldn't properly describe the collection. The display had tiny cards typed on a typewriter (here you old codgers will again remember a typewriter) describing the artist and usual stuff about the piece. Near the bathroom, there was a collection of old mechanical banks with the hand typed little cards in front of each. The late 19th and early 20th century mechanical banks were depicting black people in various states considered humorous at that time. The amazing thing I found was the little hand typed cards. The cards used words like darkey, negro boy, etc. in the descriptions. Those cards must have been 40 or more years old and were still being displayed. After eating in the restaurant I knew that we were the only people that had been in there in 40 years, so I guess we were the first to read them in 40 years. The little cards were a precursor to the museum.
The museum was amazing and astounding. Warp collected all kinds of things like an entire series of cars from a manufacturer (most manufactures including Hudson) were on display in 22 huge buildings. There was an entire building of old household appliances. There was an entire building of just about anything you can think of including an entire history of lawnmowers and chainsaws. There was a real Pony Express shack, a prairie school house, and an entire series of covered wagons. All of this stuff was kept in some ratty buildings. When Warp died the kids took over and are running the place into non-existence just like Minden. Holy moly this place was a miniature Smithsonian in ratty buildings in the windswept farms of Nebraska about 100 miles on the other side of nowhere. Army Buddy knew about this place and told me that we would go through it when The Love Boat sailed through town, and we did. Thanks Army Buddy.
Dude. Nothing funny occurred again today. Zilch,nada, nyet. I think the corn is effecting my brain. Tomorrow we are headed to Denver. I know funny things reside there.
See Yall tomorrow.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
2013 Canada Trip--Lincoln, NE --Army Buddy, Wind --June 12, 2013
Hello from Lincoln, Nebraska which is the home of Army Buddy. Army Buddy is a friend from the days of when my hair was brown and America had hopes for the future. Dang, I got depressing all of a sudden. There should have been a sign warning this. Whatever.
We drove from Missouri through Kansas City, Kansas and Kansas City, Missouri, through a small portion of Iowa, finally ending up in northeastern Nebraska. Dude the winds were horrible in Nebraska. Army Buddy tells me that the winds we experienced were normal and usual. Dude. The wind would strike the side of The Love Boat and push it around the road like a toy. A 12 foot high, 35 foot long, 8 1/2 foot wide, 10 ton toy. Big Ole Dumb Southern Boys aren't structured for winds like that but Nebraskans are. Southern Boys only get wind like that during a hurricane but it was just another day in Nebraska. Dude.
Lincoln is a clean and safe town with very little crime. I think I might like to spend some time there if it were not for the wind, tornadoes, bitterly cold winters, and summers worse than Raleighwood. Other than that it is a paradise. I must admit I liked every person I spoke to in Lincoln. They all seemed sincerely nice (shocked from cold winters, hot summers, tornadoes, and the wind) but nice. Or they were enthralled with my charming southern accent. Regardless, Army Buddy is really proud of his town, and it was nice visiting it.
We took The Puppies to a dog groomer in Lincoln for doggie torture. Both pups were mad when Deb picked them up. They did look nice and fluffy but mad. Deb likes to take them to groomers when we are on the road. Speaking of The Puppies, I want a flashing neon sign that says, "The dogs are Keeshonds" because regardless of where we are we always get people to stop us, then tell us The Puppies are so beautiful, and ask us what is their breed.. At last count we have answered that question 478,623,781,123 times give or take a couple times. Monty and Riley are Keeshond ambassadors, mad Keeshond ambassadors, but ambassadors nonetheless.
Today's entry was pretty lame. I didn't really find anything in Lincoln funny or unusual. We leave for Minden, NE very soon. Minden is about 120 miles due west of Lincoln, NE. There is an old museum there that I am told is quite neat.
Bye for now.
We drove from Missouri through Kansas City, Kansas and Kansas City, Missouri, through a small portion of Iowa, finally ending up in northeastern Nebraska. Dude the winds were horrible in Nebraska. Army Buddy tells me that the winds we experienced were normal and usual. Dude. The wind would strike the side of The Love Boat and push it around the road like a toy. A 12 foot high, 35 foot long, 8 1/2 foot wide, 10 ton toy. Big Ole Dumb Southern Boys aren't structured for winds like that but Nebraskans are. Southern Boys only get wind like that during a hurricane but it was just another day in Nebraska. Dude.
Lincoln is a clean and safe town with very little crime. I think I might like to spend some time there if it were not for the wind, tornadoes, bitterly cold winters, and summers worse than Raleighwood. Other than that it is a paradise. I must admit I liked every person I spoke to in Lincoln. They all seemed sincerely nice (shocked from cold winters, hot summers, tornadoes, and the wind) but nice. Or they were enthralled with my charming southern accent. Regardless, Army Buddy is really proud of his town, and it was nice visiting it.
We took The Puppies to a dog groomer in Lincoln for doggie torture. Both pups were mad when Deb picked them up. They did look nice and fluffy but mad. Deb likes to take them to groomers when we are on the road. Speaking of The Puppies, I want a flashing neon sign that says, "The dogs are Keeshonds" because regardless of where we are we always get people to stop us, then tell us The Puppies are so beautiful, and ask us what is their breed.. At last count we have answered that question 478,623,781,123 times give or take a couple times. Monty and Riley are Keeshond ambassadors, mad Keeshond ambassadors, but ambassadors nonetheless.
Today's entry was pretty lame. I didn't really find anything in Lincoln funny or unusual. We leave for Minden, NE very soon. Minden is about 120 miles due west of Lincoln, NE. There is an old museum there that I am told is quite neat.
Bye for now.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
2013 Canada Trip Columbia, MO-- Softball Complex, Signs--- June 10, 2013
Hello for Columbia, Missouri. I won't go into the MissurA thing again right now.
I am about tired (pronounced tarred) of being wet. The last few days of Raleighwood's weather was Tropical Storm Andrea which made life really, really wet. Even with raingear I was wet for 3 straight days. The last couple days haven't been much different with heavy bands of rain then momentary sunlight then more heavy rain. You get the picture. Boo hoo water the flowers. I can't stand myself when I whine.
We moored The Loveboat somewhere in Missouri for lunch at a China Garden Restaurant. Does every Chinese Restaurant need to be called China Garden? Sort of seems that way to me. But what do I know? After spending another 500 miles in The Love Boat, we dropped anchor for the night in Columbia, Missouri. Now I bet you think I am going to poke fun at the people in the campground? Come on. Admit it. Well I'm not. Well maybe a little. After we checked into the campground we went for a walk on a road next to the campground that went to the county fairgrounds (no biggie) and to the town's "Softball Complex". I always thought softball wasn't complicated at all, but I guess it is in Columbia. This "complex" had several really nice ball fields with lights, buildings, and lots of people playing on their complex fields. We walked around and decided to stop and watch a game with middle and junior high school kids. I forgot to mention that The Puppies (Monty and Riley) were along on our walk. We sat on some empty bleachers save a woman and man that were on opposite ends and about 4 feet from the ground. The bleachers were about 25 feet in length. Riley being Riley and always in need of attention decided he would explore as far as his leash allowed hunting for new sources of attention. Riley went up to the man but the man wasn't interested. So he went up to the woman but was only able to get within 5 or so feet of her. The woman saw Riley and jumped up and moved to the bleachers beside ours to get away from him. I hoped she doesn't do that when she has dinner at someone's house, and they put brussels sprouts on her plate. Geez Louise. I think she hurt Riley's feelings acting like Riley was a pit bull or Rottweiler. I surmised she was a communist. I can tell. So we left a few minutes later, but I made sure Riley got to walk past her. Communistic brussel sprout hopper.
I forgot to mention some stuff about Franfort, KY. The road leading into the Frankfort campground had signs that said, "All vehicles must have a licensed operator and NO JOY RIDING" and "No electronic vehicles allowed". Now the Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy was intrigued as to what joy riding entailed and what in the world was an electronic vehicle. A depressed person wrote those signs. I guess the signs would mean if you are riding to work, you weren't enjoying yourself so that would qualify. If you were riding to the dentist you certainly wouldn't be enjoying yourself and would likewise qualify. BUT, if you were riding to pick up your $10 million dollars of lottery winnings you would be guilty of JOY RIDING punishable by having to stay another night at the campground. Now the electronic vehicle thing got me to thinking. I envisioned a big transistor with wheels on it making beeping sounds like the Dalek in the Dr. Who series. The epitome of troubles would be if you were riding a Dalek and going to pick up your lottery winnings, then you would be damned to Hell and would need to spend eternity in Frankfort. I decided I wouldn't joy ride in that park.
Campgrounds are always full of signs and the Frankfort campground had another intriguing sign that made me go HMMMM. I should explain a little about the campground; it had a creek beside it.The creek was not bubbling, frolicking, or gently traveling. It was big, ugly, and looked like a place water moccasins would have family reunions. This creek was bounded on the campground side with very high earthen wall to hinder, I guess, the occasional flooding of the campground. Besides the creek there wasn't any other water nearby especially not a lake. Just a big creek mind you. That being said a person had a sign on his small travel trailer that stated, "Jim's House At The Lake". Lake Boy Jim must have thought I was "simple" or something because I stopped and stared at his sign. Bouncing around inside my brain were thoughts of needing more coffee, wanting to take a nap, if Riley was going to poop in Lake Boy Jim's Yard at The Lake, and that Lake Boy Jim wasn't too bright. Lake Boy Jim wasn't at any lake, and he sure wasn't in a house. I surmised that Lake Boy Jim had aspired his entire life to have a house at the lake, and he wasn't going to let a few huge details destroy his delusions of grandeur. I'll betcha I know who Lake Boy voted for in the last delusional election. Maybe Lake Boy is damned and will spend eternity in the campground with complex softballs striking his lake house day and night.
Tomorrow is Lincoln, Nebraska. We have not been to Kansas, Iowa, and Nebraska. No I have not had delusional expectations or anything about those states. We shall see what unfolds tomorrow.
Bye for now.
I am about tired (pronounced tarred) of being wet. The last few days of Raleighwood's weather was Tropical Storm Andrea which made life really, really wet. Even with raingear I was wet for 3 straight days. The last couple days haven't been much different with heavy bands of rain then momentary sunlight then more heavy rain. You get the picture. Boo hoo water the flowers. I can't stand myself when I whine.
We moored The Loveboat somewhere in Missouri for lunch at a China Garden Restaurant. Does every Chinese Restaurant need to be called China Garden? Sort of seems that way to me. But what do I know? After spending another 500 miles in The Love Boat, we dropped anchor for the night in Columbia, Missouri. Now I bet you think I am going to poke fun at the people in the campground? Come on. Admit it. Well I'm not. Well maybe a little. After we checked into the campground we went for a walk on a road next to the campground that went to the county fairgrounds (no biggie) and to the town's "Softball Complex". I always thought softball wasn't complicated at all, but I guess it is in Columbia. This "complex" had several really nice ball fields with lights, buildings, and lots of people playing on their complex fields. We walked around and decided to stop and watch a game with middle and junior high school kids. I forgot to mention that The Puppies (Monty and Riley) were along on our walk. We sat on some empty bleachers save a woman and man that were on opposite ends and about 4 feet from the ground. The bleachers were about 25 feet in length. Riley being Riley and always in need of attention decided he would explore as far as his leash allowed hunting for new sources of attention. Riley went up to the man but the man wasn't interested. So he went up to the woman but was only able to get within 5 or so feet of her. The woman saw Riley and jumped up and moved to the bleachers beside ours to get away from him. I hoped she doesn't do that when she has dinner at someone's house, and they put brussels sprouts on her plate. Geez Louise. I think she hurt Riley's feelings acting like Riley was a pit bull or Rottweiler. I surmised she was a communist. I can tell. So we left a few minutes later, but I made sure Riley got to walk past her. Communistic brussel sprout hopper.
I forgot to mention some stuff about Franfort, KY. The road leading into the Frankfort campground had signs that said, "All vehicles must have a licensed operator and NO JOY RIDING" and "No electronic vehicles allowed". Now the Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy was intrigued as to what joy riding entailed and what in the world was an electronic vehicle. A depressed person wrote those signs. I guess the signs would mean if you are riding to work, you weren't enjoying yourself so that would qualify. If you were riding to the dentist you certainly wouldn't be enjoying yourself and would likewise qualify. BUT, if you were riding to pick up your $10 million dollars of lottery winnings you would be guilty of JOY RIDING punishable by having to stay another night at the campground. Now the electronic vehicle thing got me to thinking. I envisioned a big transistor with wheels on it making beeping sounds like the Dalek in the Dr. Who series. The epitome of troubles would be if you were riding a Dalek and going to pick up your lottery winnings, then you would be damned to Hell and would need to spend eternity in Frankfort. I decided I wouldn't joy ride in that park.
Campgrounds are always full of signs and the Frankfort campground had another intriguing sign that made me go HMMMM. I should explain a little about the campground; it had a creek beside it.The creek was not bubbling, frolicking, or gently traveling. It was big, ugly, and looked like a place water moccasins would have family reunions. This creek was bounded on the campground side with very high earthen wall to hinder, I guess, the occasional flooding of the campground. Besides the creek there wasn't any other water nearby especially not a lake. Just a big creek mind you. That being said a person had a sign on his small travel trailer that stated, "Jim's House At The Lake". Lake Boy Jim must have thought I was "simple" or something because I stopped and stared at his sign. Bouncing around inside my brain were thoughts of needing more coffee, wanting to take a nap, if Riley was going to poop in Lake Boy Jim's Yard at The Lake, and that Lake Boy Jim wasn't too bright. Lake Boy Jim wasn't at any lake, and he sure wasn't in a house. I surmised that Lake Boy Jim had aspired his entire life to have a house at the lake, and he wasn't going to let a few huge details destroy his delusions of grandeur. I'll betcha I know who Lake Boy voted for in the last delusional election. Maybe Lake Boy is damned and will spend eternity in the campground with complex softballs striking his lake house day and night.
Tomorrow is Lincoln, Nebraska. We have not been to Kansas, Iowa, and Nebraska. No I have not had delusional expectations or anything about those states. We shall see what unfolds tomorrow.
Bye for now.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
2013 Canada Trip. KY Jelly, Monkeys, Cooterville --Frankfort, KY June 9, 2013
Hi de ho Kmart shoppers, it has been a while. In case you didn't get the memo, we are on the way to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Yes, I can spell Saskatchewan easily. We are in Franfort, KY where KY means Kentucky not KY Jelly as in the world has been my personal proctologist except the world hasn't been using KY Jelly on me. Boo hoo water the flowers. In the coming weeks I will enlighten you more about the past couple weeks a little at a time so your head doesn't explode all over your monitor. But for now I shall pause my whining and get onto fun and games.
We left Raleighwood this morning about half past I don't give a rat's butt, because we left when I had been taught my hard earned lessons for the day. I believe it was about 9am, actually who know and who cares, it was half past a rat's butt. We drove until we got to Winston Salem where we stopped in a somewhat dangerous place and got some caffeine-free Cheerwine soda. Now I love Cheerwine because I am a boy (old boy but still a boy) that grew up with Cheerwine which is actually a softdrink that resembles a cherry coke or somesuch. Anyway, I like Cheerwine as I always have but can't get the caffiene-free version in Raleighwood because some nitwit marketing slug thinks Raleighwoodites need all the caffeine they can get. However, this Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy can't tolerate caffeine anymore because it makes parts of my body thump in pain almost as horribly as Teddy Kennedy's liquored up head the morning after car scuba diving in Lake Chappaquiddick. I am surely going to Hell after that last reference. Dang, I forgot where I was. Oh year, Cheerwine. Well, we stopped and bought the mamby pamby version of Cheerwine and The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy is all happy again. Of course I had to put my life in peril to get it by walking through the parking lot of Winston Salem Crackwhore Pimp Central Food Lion's parking lot. Geez Louise. I am having one now sitting here is Frankfort, KY (Kentucky not KY Jelly).
Speaking of Frankfort, this place is between Lexington and Louisville, you know behind the big rock and left at where Cooter ran the gas station. I am told Frankfort is the capitol of Kentucky even though I can't remember from grade school which bohunk Cooterville in KY (dang there you go again, KY means Kentucky) is the truthful capitol. I ain't sure about where we are but I am sure that we are with some scary looking people. Cooterville must be a bright light in the sea of darkness for the scary human moths of the world. You know that saying about if you give a bunch of monkeys a bunch of computers the monkeys through sheer coincidence will eventually type out something important like the Constitution? Well the monkeys, scary looking monkeys mind you, are in this campground and they all have computers and they are trying to type out a blog like mine about Cooterville KY (don't make it say it again). I'll bet the monkeys will refer to Cooterville as Cootervillewood like the Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy. I'll bet the monkeys are trying to be all smartalecky like The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy too. Dang monkeys. Stupid Cooterville. It only takes one monkey with one computer to write this blog. Stupid monkeys.
Tomorrow we are headed through St Louis and plan to stop and see the Arch. If my luck holds true then the dang Arch will fall on me, and I'll have to pay for it. The world's proctologists are everywhere. Why shouldn't Missouri (pronounced mizz zur ra not mizz zur e) be any different. Ooh no, they need to be different in MizzzurA. I'll bet the monkeys in this park worked overtime in MizzurA trying to find a stupid way to pronounce MizzurE.
I am going to sign off now and go to bed and dream about monkeys, KY Jelly, and Cooterville. We'll see what tomorrow brings. The day after we will be in Nebraska where Army Buddy lives.
Bye for now.
We left Raleighwood this morning about half past I don't give a rat's butt, because we left when I had been taught my hard earned lessons for the day. I believe it was about 9am, actually who know and who cares, it was half past a rat's butt. We drove until we got to Winston Salem where we stopped in a somewhat dangerous place and got some caffeine-free Cheerwine soda. Now I love Cheerwine because I am a boy (old boy but still a boy) that grew up with Cheerwine which is actually a softdrink that resembles a cherry coke or somesuch. Anyway, I like Cheerwine as I always have but can't get the caffiene-free version in Raleighwood because some nitwit marketing slug thinks Raleighwoodites need all the caffeine they can get. However, this Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy can't tolerate caffeine anymore because it makes parts of my body thump in pain almost as horribly as Teddy Kennedy's liquored up head the morning after car scuba diving in Lake Chappaquiddick. I am surely going to Hell after that last reference. Dang, I forgot where I was. Oh year, Cheerwine. Well, we stopped and bought the mamby pamby version of Cheerwine and The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy is all happy again. Of course I had to put my life in peril to get it by walking through the parking lot of Winston Salem Crackwhore Pimp Central Food Lion's parking lot. Geez Louise. I am having one now sitting here is Frankfort, KY (Kentucky not KY Jelly).
Speaking of Frankfort, this place is between Lexington and Louisville, you know behind the big rock and left at where Cooter ran the gas station. I am told Frankfort is the capitol of Kentucky even though I can't remember from grade school which bohunk Cooterville in KY (dang there you go again, KY means Kentucky) is the truthful capitol. I ain't sure about where we are but I am sure that we are with some scary looking people. Cooterville must be a bright light in the sea of darkness for the scary human moths of the world. You know that saying about if you give a bunch of monkeys a bunch of computers the monkeys through sheer coincidence will eventually type out something important like the Constitution? Well the monkeys, scary looking monkeys mind you, are in this campground and they all have computers and they are trying to type out a blog like mine about Cooterville KY (don't make it say it again). I'll bet the monkeys will refer to Cooterville as Cootervillewood like the Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy. I'll bet the monkeys are trying to be all smartalecky like The Big Ole Dumb Southern Boy too. Dang monkeys. Stupid Cooterville. It only takes one monkey with one computer to write this blog. Stupid monkeys.
Tomorrow we are headed through St Louis and plan to stop and see the Arch. If my luck holds true then the dang Arch will fall on me, and I'll have to pay for it. The world's proctologists are everywhere. Why shouldn't Missouri (pronounced mizz zur ra not mizz zur e) be any different. Ooh no, they need to be different in MizzzurA. I'll bet the monkeys in this park worked overtime in MizzurA trying to find a stupid way to pronounce MizzurE.
I am going to sign off now and go to bed and dream about monkeys, KY Jelly, and Cooterville. We'll see what tomorrow brings. The day after we will be in Nebraska where Army Buddy lives.
Bye for now.
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