Mike and I decided to drive up to Poughkeepsie. Well, no, actually that is a lie. We decided to drive up to Pleasant Valley, NY, which is near Poughkeepsie, kinda.
You may be tempted to ask yourself what exactly is in Pleasant Valley. And if your first thought is Ranch Dressing, well, that is in Hidden Valley, but it's a valley no less, and anyways, it was my first thought, so you're in good company.
What actually is in Pleasant Valley is a a drum shop. And Mikely wanted to drive up and take a look at some drums.
We left Jessie at Lyns' house, and we made our trip through PA.
We breezed past Harrisburg. Which looked like a nice place for a visit, if there was spare time. A not too small not too big city. We did stop in Wilkes-Barre, for dinner at Bob Evans.
(PS Wilkes-Barre is in a beautiful valley, you almost have to stop to see if people will tip their hats in your general direction and say "Howdydo?" as you walk past on your way to the large picturesque church perched like a graceful bird on the hill that over looks the town)
So, I hop out of the escape, chompin' at the bit to meet some of the folks who live in this pretty lil' town...
At first, inside the restaurant, I wanted to tell Toto it looked like we weren't in Kindness anymore. Dave our hostess/waitress showed us rudely to the booth, by pointing his stubby fingers in the booth's general direction. I excused myself to the bathroom, and whilst I was number one-ing, our Waiter asked Mike if he could start us out with anything.
Mike responded by telling him to wait until I was out of the ladies room...being that it is his job to wait, you'd think he'd have known to wait.
Luckily there was a comment card placed on the table, and if anyone knows of me, they know, I always fill out the comment cards. It's my duty as a patron. I owe it to the next eaters in the eatery..sorta. Right?
Dave and his disgruntled-ness didn't neglect to see me reach for my MARC pen (keep following me, MARC comes back up in this story, it's a full circle type thing.)
When he saw me also reaching for the comment card, his attitude abruptly changed, and he was Chipper McGee. He practically spoon fed me my pancakes, which Mike and I have formed a coalition to bring back the term "Flapjacks."
Pancakes and Hotcakes have had their day, it's time we started referring to them the cowpoke way "Flapjacks." It denotes flappin' yer gums, which denotes talking, which is what I am all about.
Anyways, back to Dave. I started feeling bad about nearly sending him down the river via a comment card, (if there is a river in Wilkes-Barre, and if there wasn't, that was gonna cost the poor guy in gas in driving around to find the river to send himself down...).
He started back peddling and working for a good word.
So, I did what any woman with a heart would've. I filled out the comment card. I told Bob Evans not to shit can Dave due to his initial rudeness. I even took it a step further. I compared him to Neil Diamond in a sparkly shirt. I even drew an artists rendering of Neil Diamond (A la cherry cherry) vs. Dave. And we left a suitably suitable tip.
and we headed north east.
We welcomed ourselves to PA as we were leaving. It was the only welcome center we saw, and I bought a pack of zingers from a machine at the rest stop. I'd not seen those delish little yellow cakes since I was a wee lass and snoopy was on their boxes.
We stopped that night in NY. A place fun to say, even if it wasn't that gorgeous to look at. Wawayanda, NY. famous for nothing. Next to Middletown, named because it literally is in the middle of nowhere.
The next morning over as I was butter and jellying my english muffin, a man busts into the motel breakfast area. NY accent strong enough to make me smile at the colorfulness. He accused the hotel clerk of not giving him a wake up call.
He plopped himself down beside our table (It was a cramped situation) with his bagel. He sniffed in the air, looked at me and said "How's yous?"
Mike and I smiled and said "good. you?"
He said "Where ya from?"
We said "Uhm, kinda maryland."
He said "Maryland? What brings yous up this way? Where ya goin?"
I said "Poughkeepsie."
He said "Why yous wanna go to Poughkeepsie? Ain't nothing there to write home to ya mas about there!"
I laughed, and instantly liked him.
He gave us where to not go advice and we were on our way.
Once in Poughkeepsie (Post drumming) we realized we were not that far from Eleanor Roosevelt's cottage, and Springhill FDR's home).
The history-girlie in me squealed with delight, and I admit, clapped my hands in glee.
As we wound our way through the tour of Val-Kill (Mrs. R's cottage) I became even more impressed and in awe of this amazingly normal woman. Her cottage seemed approachable, and the tour guide, Ray, brought her back to life.
In fact, we were even amazed with Ray. He was welcoming, he was funny, we made friends with him, and enjoyed his banter and quick wit.
After Val-kill, we took ourselves over to Springhill, to the Roosevelt Mansion. We met a really nice man there who said "I ain't no tour guide, but I work here, and I wanted to drive yas around on the tram to keep ya from walking in this heat!" Everyone kept apologizing for the 'heat' which didn't seem unbearable to mike nor to myself.
After paying our Respects to the Roosevelts who rest in the rose garden,
We came to one fast conclusion....Hyde Park NY is possibly one of the friendliest towns in America. It's hospitable, it's warm, it's just small town america in it's finest. We want to go back...and if it weren't for the snow...this southern girl would consider calling that part of NY "Home Sweet Home." Alas, you know how I detest the snow and cold....
And next stop? NYC. Before we leave MD.
Now you may be wondering where/how this has to do with white people walking like egyptians....and well, honestly that portion of the story has nothing to do with that whatsoever....but this part does....
Mike and I took the MARC train (See, I told you it would come up again) down to DC, to see the lesser known monuments (To include FDR's memorial stone, all we need now is to see Warm Springs Ga, and it will complete our FDR tour).
We muddled through the heat, we had some homeless guy tell us to "Be sure to watch them on the Segway tours. It's funny."
I said 'Ok."
he said "yes it's funny to see them on segways touring."
I said "yes. It is."
The last stop on our mini-monuments tour took us to Albert Einstein. Google it. He's sitting right there in DC, at his feet, the stars.
On the way home, we stopped at Mc Donald's in union station. We were beat from the heat, and thristy for something fizzarific.
On the train, we carved things into our styrofoam anti-green cups to amuse each other.
I believe we were punch drunk from walking our dogs all over DC in the heat that encouraged us to POUR sweat....
Once we'd returned to Odenton, we'd cooled off in the train. So we walked, along the platform.
I said "I wonder if Egyptians get ticked."
Mike said "about what?"
i said "All the kids in the market place say...way oooh waay oh waaaay oh!" Moving my hands out in the egyptian way.
He (channelling an egyptian who has a washingtonian accent) "We DON'T walk like that! It was a frickin' HieroGLYPHIC!"
He laughed and said "That was their famous song!!!"
And we both, under the platform lamps, in the crowd of go-er home-ers, sang the song and walked like egyptians back to our awaiting Colorado.
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