Travelogue, Part One
My mom has two very powerful alarm clocks. They’re named Reggie and Jack. Jack especially as that is the one that will climb all over me at 6 in the morning wanting his food. How, after only 3 days, he figured out to come wake me instead of Mom in the morning is a good example of how things work in my world.
It makes it all that more easy to sit inside, curled up on the couch with my book and my coffee. Some old movie is playing on TV and I decided to get some of these thoughts down before I forget them all by time I get home and can get them all uploaded. [editor’s note: now home and uploading!]
My take-aways this trip (among other little odds and ends): a dozen different little 1-pot coffee packets from Wisconsin coffee mills, all with fattening flavorful names like “blueberry cobbler,” “buttercream,” and caramel candy.”
And, hold onto your socks, folks, I’ve some big news now: Mom’s JCPenney retired associate discount + President’s Day sales = Stacy finally bought some new underwear! Washington and Lincoln would be so proud that they gave so much to this country so my bum could live in some nice new fabrics.
Even better is my new little piece of heaven: the softest, fluffiest, squishiest, sink-myself-into purple piece of joy that is known to most as a bath robe. And on clearance for $7.99. I’m not sure which President to thank for this one, but I’m just going to shoot a dart at the board and say: gracias, Mr. Taft.
No, no. There will be no pictures of the undies. ☺
Of course, a trip home would be nothing without a self-imposed photo stroll. A photo stroll that lasted about, oh, 10 minutes when the wind chill factor dipped the temperature to such a balmy 8 degrees.
There’s a tiny little cemetery just off the exit of Hwy 41/45 and Capitol Drive in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin; a cemetery I’ve noticed on numerous occasions when I’ve come to visit mom in her home but a few miles from there. It is odd, however: just a tiny square little plot of the land that is very easy to miss and I’m sure most do unless they’re sitting at the traffic light off the northbound highway, waiting to turn westbound on Capitol.
This is, too, the exit you would take to go visit and tour the birthing place of the world-famous Harley-Davidson motorcycle! In that it was 9am on a Sunday morning, the building was closed and the parking lot empty – fortunate for me in that I was able to park under the “Harley-Davidson Visitor Parking Only: violators will be towed” sign without too much worry.
And park there I had to, as the baby cemetery doesn’t have any drive-up access or parking area whatsoever. It’s truly nestled right along a busy road and the on-ramp of Hwy 41/45 N. which I can only assume must mean it doesn’t get many visitors at all. Another reason I had to, of course. So I parked under the highway and braved the cold wind to jog under the highway and over to teeny tiny baby Oak Hill Cemetery and it was well worth it. It wasn’t too much of a surprise that it was a retired spot; it was neat to know that Civil War soldiers were buried there. [Yes, folks, the state of Wisconsin, est. 1848, did send soldiers to fight for the North during the war. I know Wisconsin folk aren’t usually considered “Yankees” as much as our eastern-state counterparts, but it’s true! Okay, enough of History 101]
The fact that mine were the only footsteps through the snow belies the fact that these dead don’t get visitors. I saw both rabbit and raccoon tracks there, as well as some I could not define. I’m going to go with Sasquatch on that one.
Okay, that’s all I got for y’all on Travelogue Part One. I’m home, starving, and in very much of a need to sit my bum on the couch, eat me some crab rangoons, and catch up on some TV! Coming soon to a blog near you (psst! this one!): Parts Two and Three, which involve photos of actual humans and an unexpected jaunt to an artsy kinda place. Stay tuned, me lovelies!