Reunion Trip 2017

It was time for my family reunion again. This time instead of asking a friend to look after my cats and then having a disaster in their family cause me to have to scramble at the last minute to find someone else (which is what happened last year) I just paid someone to take care of them.

Surprisingly (to me, anyway) a lot of vet techs do pet-sitting for some extra money on the side. The person doing my cat-sitting had recently retired from being a vet tech in order to be a stay at home mom. She was a bit exhausting to be around (major extrovert!) but I felt my boys would be in good hands. They were.

They weren't happy about my absence, but they didn't go on a hunger strike or anything, so it's all good.

The reunion itself was quite nice. The day before an aunt/married-in uncle combo had a 50th wedding anniversary drop-in. Since there were two family gathering events so close together and my sister (the one that visits me) hadn't been to the reunion in some time, she flew in to attend both and stayed at my cousin G- and A- with my parents and me.

My parents and I drove up on Thursday. I ended up driving the whole way while mom read to us. With the occasional random commentary (not on the book) from my dad. The traffic was dense but only had a few slowdowns, and we got there around 7:30.

Shortly after our arrival I went for a walk to stretch out a bit (driving for over 10 hours can really do a number on your muscles) and discovered the fly in the ointment for this trip: cousin G-'s neighbor's dogs. Last year they'd been in kennels whenever I was out; this time they surged up over the bank onto cousin G-'s driveway and proceeded to behave remarkably as if they were planning to attack the minute I turned my back.

I did not know that a dog could snarl and show teeth at the same time it barked constantly and aggressively at you. Points for multi-tasking, I suppose. I managed to face them down for the ages it took Neighbor to come out on her porch and yell at her dogs to come here (they did not obey very well, but enough that I was able to leave the area).

The problem is, the biggest, most aggressive dog weighed as much as I do (probably more) and was physically the same size as well. Which meant should it knock me down, I stood a good chance of getting killed, or at the least, badly mauled. The truly irritating part was that no one seemed to take this threat seriously. I suppose, though, one really has to be there to observe how aggressively dogs react to my sheer presence to understand. I've had dogs on leashes being walked by their person try to get at me, barking, yanking on the leash, and the person be completely and utterly baffled by the dog's behavior--apologizing to me and saying "he/she's not normally like this." It's like a reverse superpower I have!

To get that part of the tale over with, the dogs were kenneled or indoors the next morning and Saturday morning when I went for a walk, but Sunday morning I encountered them again. At 4 am in the morning, which seemed a bit excessive to me. (I was awake and out because if you want to go on a two hour walk before the sun rises and makes everything bright and hot, you have to get up early).

Bad dog aside, the rest of the trip was well worth it. I got to spend not one, but two nights interacting with my extended family. And because the 50th wedding anniversary couple don't live around here, and their children and grandchildren also don't live around here, we don't normally see them--which means I got to have fun meeting people I don't usually get to interact with.

One of these children's family groups is also a musical group called the Celtic Martins. They played two songs for us; the bouncing dancing (not that we did) kind of celtic music on violins and guitars that I absolutely love. I was, for that short time, in musical heaven.

The morning of the reunion my dad has always gone to "the barn" with his brother C-, and this year my sister and I came along. The barn is a converted barn (thus the name, obviously), which the family has turned into a country-cooking restaurant. We're talking very primitive restaurant here ... which means the food is delicious. I had eggs and bacon on a bagel. First time I've ever liked a bagel. Granted, the one time I ate a bagel before this it was dry and just the bagel. I don't think you're supposed to eat them like that.

Then I went back to bed (I tried to catch up on my sleep this trip, but I was constantly being stymied by the thin walls of the room my airbed was in and the fact that everyone else was logically awake during the day). I did manage some sleep, however--good thing, too, all this socializing!

The reunion started at three, and there were lots of people there. I love lots of family--if I get bored with one conversation, or if it starts going off the rails into uncomfortable territory, I can simply find another conversation to join.

Plus lots of food. My Aunt D- brought a cherry cobbler made from cherries that had been growing on the tree that morning (YUM) and because my uncle C- is also lactose intolerant, she used lactaid milk in the sweet biscuits that go on top of the cobbler. Yeah! A homemade dessert I can eat! (That's the same uncle C- that we had breakfast with.)

Cousin G- pulls around a large tractor (we're talking tires taller than I am) with a wagon and hay bales on the back. Actually, I think they were baled barley that he'd put up the night before. There was going to be a hayride! Lots of the younger people were quite enthusiastic about this concept, and several of the older people (including my parents) joined in.

Me? Are you kidding me? Have you not been paying attention? Fumes from the tractor engine, prickly barley sticking into my skin, too much extra noise to understand anyone's words ... sensory nightmare. No, I stayed put and watched the hayride group trundle off down the lane, glad they could enjoy it even if I couldn't.

There were plenty of people left to talk to. I was outside the large garage where the tables and food had been set up, sitting in a circle of chairs with a group, chatting, when it started to sprinkle. I hate being wet, so I got up, went in the house, retrieved my umbrella, and came back to my chair, umbrella wielded.

There was some gentle ribbing at my expense ... right up until five minutes later when the sky opened up and it went from a sprinkle of rain to buckets. Then I got several comments of, "okay, I guess she does know what she's doing" which, although just as joking as the previous commentary, was rather gratifying to hear.

By the way, the hayride isn't back yet. And there's no roof on it.

I hadn't paid too much attention to who went, but I knew at least one person with a walker had gone. They were all going to be drenched and I felt that they would appreciate the ability to at least pretend to get drier. I ran my idea past my sister (just in case it wasn't appropriate) and she agreed and helped me ransack poor cousin A-'s house for towels.

The hayride was at the farthermost point from the house (of course--Murphy's Luck, right?) when it started to rain so it took them a while to get back, even going as fast as the tractor would go (pretty fast for a tractor). Cousin G- also has a huge garage that isn't connected to the house (we were in the connected one) and he opened that with his remote and drove the whole kit and kaboodle into it.

Holding a tall stack of towels (every towel we could find that wasn't in use) in one hand and my umbrella in the other, I walked through the pouring down rain to the other garage and held out the towels to the soaking wet people descending from the hayride.

My parents, since we were staying at Cousin G-'s house, had the luxury of going upstairs and taking hot showers and changing into dry clothes. Considering my mother's respiratory health, I was quite grateful she didn't have to drive somewhere before doing this, like everybody else.

The reunion is supposed to last until 9, and usually breaks up later than that, but half the people were soaking wet and wanted to go home and dry off, so the reunion broke up early--it was a little after 8, so it wasn't all that early.

The consensus was this would go down in the history books, and we'd be talking about the hayride where it rained for years to come. There were even a few people on the ride who loved being wet and enjoyed that part! (I find this very strange.)

Of course, all the socializing over the weekend was exhausting to my social ability, and by Sunday morning I was fairly well a wreck as far as pretending to be normal went. Good thing we were going home.

I drove the whole way home. There were some stops on the interstate but they didn't last long (thank goodness--my patience was not in good shape). Less than an hour from home it started raining so hard I couldn't see the line markers and (eek) discovered I was running between two lanes. Luckily the traffic was fairly light so I wasn't endangering anyone but I decided to slow down at that point. The problem is always do you slow down, risking getting hit from behind by someone who didn't and can't see you very well due to the heavy rain, or do you keep going and risk hitting someone who did slow down and you can't see them very well due to the heavy rain. Discovering I wasn't seeing the lane markers well enough to stay inside them tipped the balance to "slow down." I did so slowly, of course, as braking in heavy rain is also a good way to start sliding.

But the rain didn't last long. I was grateful, since I didn't particularly want to get my luggage out of the car in the pouring rain.

And then at long last I was home, and making my way through my door into the kitchen, dragging my luggage with me, caroling happily "I'm home!" to the cats.

They were suspicious that it was really me, and I had to talk for a few minutes before they accepted that the sound of my voice over-rode the odd smell I had. (If you stay somewhere else for a few days, you start to smell like that new place. It's not something (most) humans can detect, but a cat is able to.)

Then they were very happy to have me home, and I unpacked as fast as possible to get all the "bad reminders" tucked away to reassure them I wasn't going away again.

The next day I took a nap. My knees are bent between them.
Colby's upside down closest to us while Thimble's on the other side.

Thimble has never done this before.
He blocked the door to the outside so I couldn't leave again!

Colby blocked the hallway: he was a toll cat and
must be paid in petting before I could pass.

And Apricot's been snuggling up against me while I read or watch tv. It's hard to get photos of that since he's tucked up against my hip and kind of behind one arm!

The day after I got back I had to vacuum the house and go for groceries. The cats did not appreciate the going away part and mobbed me when I got back, grocery bags or no grocery bags (usually, the bags deter the mobbing and they wait until I unload everything). 

I took several days off work for after I came back in order to recover. But tomorrow, vacation is over and things go back to normal. The boys aren't going to be happy with that--they just love having me home all the time. Pity ... I love being home all the time with them, too. Until I win the lottery (that I don't play), however, we'll just all have to live with my being a contributing member of society with a job that feeds us and keeps a roof over our heads. 

If anybody knows how to successfully explain that to a cat, I'd love to know.

Vacation Time Part II, or Spending Time with Relatives (Thursday) - Updated

continued from Part I

We had two whole days before the reunion, so my mom had scheduled some time with various relatives which I was welcome to come along to if I wanted.

Well ... I didn't really want to sit around and talk (or listen to other people talk) for three days straight, since that's what I was planning to do with my relatives at the reunion. I wanted something more active.

I made an appeal on facebook on our page, and one of my cousins P- responded that she'd like to spend some time with me; what did I want to do. I mentioned a number of things, and the horseback riding was one of the last ones, as I knew of only two relatives with horses (horses that you rode for fun, not horses that you used for farming, anyway).

P- asked those two if either could accommodate me, and my cousin F- volunteered. So this was all planned for Friday.

Thursday, then, I planned to go with my parents to their various meetings (my mom with an old school friend, my dad with one of his brothers) and drop them off and then drive to a gift shop I knew of and go shopping (one of my other suggestions to cousin P-).

My dad didn't want me driving his car all by myself. This shows a fundamental lack of understanding of my abilities in a car--the more distractions I have, the more difficulty I have driving safely. So basically, I'm at my best in a car by myself without any music going, which is how I planned to drive to the gift shop. However, it's his car, so I resigned myself to just staying at my cousin A-'s house for the day on Thursday. After spending the morning in bed, it wasn't entirely an unwelcome thought, either.

But no, my Aunt K-, wife of the brother my dad was spending talk-time with, said she'd go shopping with me. (Turns out she isn't really much of a shopper, so this was a really nice thing of her to do). And my dad was okay with it as long as I had someone else in the car. (Again, how long has he known me? Strange.)**See note at the bottom

So after dropping off Mom at her school friend's house, and Daddy at Uncle L-, Aunt K- and I drove the requisite 30 minutes to anywhere to get to the gift shop. (Here, where I live, it's 15 minutes to anywhere, or less. To the grocery store. To my job. To where my brother lives. To where my friends live. Somehow it's always 15 minutes. Occasionally traffic will make it 20, but you can pretty much count on 15 minutes. Where most all of my extended family lives, it's 30 minutes. To anywhere you want to go. Or 45, depending on traffic, the route you take, and, apparently, how badly you want to go there!)

This gift shop is amazing. I've been there before. There's a monster buffet restaurant on top, with a dessert bar to die for (and you'll be adding quite a few pounds if you indulge!). But I didn't want to go there; buffets aren't worth the money anymore now that I can't eat a lot at one sitting. It's huge though, like three times the size of most buffet places. And underneath, stretching the entire distance, as big as a walmart, is a gift shop.

They have everything. Toys and (genuine) Amish-made furniture and clothes (mostly shirts and pullover hoodies) and trinkets and jewelry and wind chimes (including the huge bass wind chimes I love that cost like 400 dollars and I'll never get because of that). Greeting cards and magnets and all the normal things you'd find in a gift shop. Just tons of stuff.

I wanted clothes. All my tourist-y clothes from where my relatives live are too big for me now, plus all my clothes are too big except for a few I've bought since the sudden slim-down. So I wanted tourist-y clothing. I found quite a few I liked. I got more greeting cards (last time I was at this gift shop I'd gotten some packs of variety greeting cards for birthdays and stuff and had gotten quite a lot of compliments and "where did you get these" on them, and I was almost out, so I stocked up again).

And Aunt K- patiently trailed along after me. She even pointed out some shirts I overlooked (easy to do in there) that she thought I'd like based on my other choices (she was right). And she said at one point, "aren't you cold a lot? What about these?" and pointed out fuzzy slippers. I got a pair. I wish I'd got two. These things are almost as warm as LL Bean's Wicked Good slippers for a lot less money, and they've got tread on the bottom. (The little plastic dots to give you grip).

The tread makes a funny noise on my non-carpeted floors and the cats were not pleased with them at first. They're used to it now.

Then we drove back to Aunt K-'s place. We didn't have to collect mom because Aunt K- pointed out acerbically that there were two cars at her place, one hers and one Uncle L-'s, and if the two guys couldn't manage to pick mom up with one of those, then they had a bigger problem. So mom was there when we showed up.

Well, they wanted to order pizza from a pizza place right around the corner. Within walking distance, as it turned out. But put four of my relatives in the same room and they'd discuss all night what pizza to get. I was hungry and got impatient, especially when it became apparent that they thought they'd have to order a specific pizza from the take-out menu.

I pointed out that the pizzas are made fresh, and you can mix and match the crust, the sauce, and the toppings however you like. This made their choices even larger (but more acceptable to them) and everybody got really into the discussions.

I asked for a pen and paper, and then made them tell me how many pizzas (2), and what they wanted on them and wrote it down. For myself, there was a 6.99 personal stromboli with mozzarella and steak with sauce on the side that sounded just right (a stromboli is a calzone that's shaped like a crescent moon, in case you don't know). Because I knew that most likely whatever they chose, I wouldn't (a) like it, or (b) be able to eat it.

So we had our order. And then everybody's just kind of looking at me since I'd taken charge, and I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing they'd want me to call in the order. Which I said, mostly out loud. "You're going to want me to make this phone call, aren't you?" in a tone of voice which said the part that I didn't say (at least I think I kept it behind my teeth) of I hate making phone calls.

Daddy rescued me by pointed out that the restaurant was within walking distance, now wasn't it, and it wouldn't take that long to make the pizzas, so "I'll go with you" and off the two of us went.

The restaurant really was just around the corner, plus a short distance of like one or two small shops. They said it would be 25 minutes, so Daddy and I went for another walk just up and down the alley ways behind the houses. The shops and restaurant were at a crossroads that otherwise was surrounded by homes. Kind of cool.

The entire day had been rainy, off and on, and cool, so since this was an off period for the rain but it was still cool without a hot sun, it was a lovely walk. I enjoy spending time with my dad.

(Also, he totally got that I did not want to make that phone call, but he doesn't get the driving thing? He confuses me sometimes.)

I carried the pizzas and the stromboli back. Now, those pizzas were about 15 dollars each (large size). The stromboli was called a personal, and it was 7 dollars. I was not expecting a large size pizza folded over to be the size of this stromboli, but it was. Therefore I now had food for the next night too!

Supper was fun, and Aunt K- produced fresh fruit for dessert (with blueberries, yum).

But by the time we got back to Cousin G- and A-'s house, it was late, and so I got to bed at my usual "too late" time. I had been hoping to use this vacation as a way to get my bedtime schedule back on track! Oh well.

**After my father read this he wanted to clarify that he does too trust me with the car. He just has an irrational thing about not having the ability to leave/have a car, that's his, available. ("Irrational thing" is his phrasing, not mine.) Well, since I am the queen of irrational "things", I can hardly point fingers, now, can I.

And I understand it. I too have an irrational thing about not having the ability to drive myself places. It took a lot of trust and was part of the strain of vacation simply having gone in one car where I didn't have the option to jump in my car and go wherever I wanted to, but to depend on other people for transportation. Honestly, I'm not sure I could have done it ten years ago (hey, something that's improved over time!).

continued in Part III

Vacation Time Part V, or Going Home

continued from Part IV

Driving home proved to be much hotter this time around. The sun was out in force, and the sky was so very blue but only a few wispy clouds, and the trees and grass were vivid variations of green.

Mom was our audio-book again, and luckily I wasn't as sleepy this time, so I was able to drive a little less than two-thirds of the way before turning it over to Daddy. It's not so much that I can't drive the whole way (I've done it plenty of times), but the more tired I get, the more distractions bother me, and the testier I get with said distractions. When it's just me in my car with music, I can simply turn the music off. Human companions are a bit more difficult.

So Daddy drove the rest of the way. While we did stop for gas and the required bathroom breaks, we didn't actually stop for supper. Daddy said we'd get home around the time that Mom and he usually ate anyway, and I was perfectly willing just to snack for food. Both Mom and I didn't particularly want a repeat of supper on the way up.

They had picked me up from my house so my car would be there while I was gone, and thus they dropped me off before going home. 

Mom said, as I gathered up all my belongings, "I'll help," and then, as I persisted in putting all the bags on myself, said "why won't you let me help?"

"I don't want to go in there" shrugging in the direction of my house, "with strangers." (I meant strangers to the cats, and she knew that, because her response was an enlightened, "oh, right!")

So I staggered into the kitchen with all my bags strewn around me, and announced that I was home, it was me, you can come out, where is everybody? and about that point Thimble thundered into the kitchen, with Apricot hard on his heels and Colby a few feet behind them.

They were ecstatic to see me home. This is only the second time in their lives I've left overnight, and they were worried. Colby even required some coaxing before he'd admit it was me and he was happy to see me. 

I smelled funny, you see, so they thought it was possible I could be someone else. Although I did sound like me. And look like me. And eventually, they admitted that underneath all the external scents, I smelled like me too.

For the past two days (I took two more days off work after I came back simply because I didn't have my normal weekend to do things like wash clothes, vacuum the house, etc) they have been following me around. Thimble's practically been glued to my side. He hasn't protested his crate at night at all, almost volunteering to go into it (this means things are back to normal, being crated at night, thus the willingness to "leave" me). 

And the other two, while willing to sleep during the day and let me unsupervised, are trading off that sleep so there's always two cats with me ... or magically always in the same room with me.

Typical view these past days ... I turn around from the kitchen counter, and there everyone is. 

Vacation Time Part IV, or The Reunion -- Updated

continued from part III

The next morning I went for my walk, almost four miles this time, and then went back to bed again. I was definitely feeling that trail ride in my sit bones!

Later the relatives found it hilarious that I'd slept all morning. I found it vaguely insulting that they found it hilarious. It was my vacation, and I'm pretty sure I did more physical activity the previous day than any of them. Cousin P- was there but she wasn't one of the folks who found it funny (probably because she'd be along for most of Friday's wild ride.)

Everybody showed up around 3 ish, although a few more trickled in later.

Cousin G- and A-'s son, daughter-in-law, and family live in the farm across the street. They weren't coming to the reunion, but the son was cultivating the pumpkin field directly opposite the open garage we were in. He finished up right as people started arriving, but then he left the cultivator running. Right at the garage door with only the width of the double-wide driveway between it. Very loud and incredibly hard to hear people talking over it.

Most of the older relatives either farmed or (they all) grew up on a farm, and I guess the noise didn't bother them, but I thought that it was extremely thoughtless to have left it on, and left it right there (it's a big field--he could have driven to the other end. It's not like the cultivator belonged in the garage; its home was across the street in the farm buildings).

In addition, I was tired, and in pain, and I'd had a lot of social activity already this trip. I complained about the noise to one of my relatives, thinking surely somebody else was bothered by the fact that we couldn't hear ourselves speak much less understand what each other was saying. She duly went and told either Cousin A- or Cousin G-, but someone went and told son that he needed to move the cultivator "because it was bothering <my name>".

So before he moved it, he decided to come over and tell me that I was too sensitive and just needed to spend some time on a farm. He was very derisive about it. (Apparently my negative reaction to the intense smell of the mulch when we first arrived at their place two days before had also been conveyed to him. I thought that had been between Cousin A- and me. And I'd only wanted to know what that smell was, not demanded it be eliminated or anything.)

I managed to assess my feelings, ascertain that they were unlikely to lead to anything good happening if I stayed, and leave without saying the nasty things I wanted to say in return. I went in the house (which luckily reduced the sound of the cultivator considerably) and went to my room (I thought "there's a distinct benefit to the reunion being held at the same place I'm staying at that I hadn't thought of till now--I have a place to retreat to") and stayed there.

For a while. The sensory overload produced the meltdown I'd felt coming, and while my meltdowns are unpleasant to watch (and be inside of), they aren't noisy. I just sat in the corner by the half-sized sofa and rocked while I cried quietly. I heard the cultivator moving off, and fade into the distance. I was just as glad this meant the departure of the son as I was glad about the cessation of the noise.

I scraped myself together, washed my face in the bathroom sink that was on my end of the house and wasn't the bathroom everyone else had been invited to use, so no fear anyone would come in and ask what's wrong, and then went back out among the people.

Luckily, the first people I started talking to were a married cousin pair who do contract manufacturing of supplements. I mean, they're the contract end, not the manufacturing end. So they're the people who would pay us to make their product for them. And this was cool because rarely do they get to talk to the analytical chemist testing their product and producing the CoAs for them (that's Certificate of Analysis) so not only did we get to have a back-and-forth conversation about it (and that type of conversation is difficult for me if it's something I'm passionately interested in--I dominate the conversation--or not interested in at all--I don't say much) it was about something I know back to front but that I'm not passionately interested in.

I guess what I'm trying to say was, it was about the easiest way to ease back into social behavior after a meltdown that I could have come up with if I'd thought about it!

And the rest of the night I quite enjoyed myself. I love reunions, and there are so very few "bad" incidents like the two I've described here that I often forget that they can happen, and they take me by surprise when they do.

I got to talk to my Uncles H-, and S-, and my Aunts F- and M- during the eating part of the reunion; I talked to other aunts and uncles during the rest of it, and the few cousins who showed up.

And then, when the sun was setting, Cousin M-, wandering around the front yard, found a kitten, about 8 months old. A very friendly kitten. Knowing I like cats, this kitten was deposited into my hands.

Crouching on the ground, my knees up under my dress, cuddling the kitten and talking to her.

She was a gray calico, with kitten fuzz all over that made the calico part hard to see. She was purring and liked to be petted but then was very squirmy and wanted down. Her sharp little kitten claws got me a good one on my arm before I could safely put her on the ground (didn't want to drop her upside down or anything, and squirmy doesn't begin to discover the contortions a kitten can put herself in). Made me think, "hm, I need to clip my boys' claws when I get home; believe that's this weekend." (They get clipped every other week now.)

She bounced around from person to person. We'd moved the chairs out in a big circle in the back yard's grass, and some people liked her and accepted her, but Uncle C- didn't notice her climbing up his leg until she got over the knee bend, and reacted very startled and "hey, get away" and shaking his leg to get her off. (She left him, her attention to the humans unfazed.)

I felt critical of this behavior till I thought that I would have done the exact same thing to a dog, so it's not like I have room to talk.

Since we (my parents and I) were traveling back the very next day, I couldn't stay up as long as I wanted to. Going to bed at midnight was not an option tonight. So I said my goodnights and went inside to get ready to go to bed. As if my departure was a signal, though, everybody else slowly broke up and went to their cars and drove home, too. So I didn't miss much of the reunion at the tail end.

Updated later: after I posted this, and my mom read it, she told me something that made me stop and think for a while. Sometime between the reunion and when we left, she was in a conversation with Cousin A- (the one we were staying with) and mom mentioned, referring to me, "you do know she's autistic, right?" And Cousin A- says, "no, I didn't know. So that's why J-'s tractor bothered her."

Okay, think about it for a second. They didn't know. They only knew that I was upset by the tractor noise--that I didn't like it. In fact, I doubt any of them realized just how bad it was for me, since I wasn't complaining in a very constructive or informative fashion about it. But they had J- move the tractor anyway.

Because one person didn't like it. (My dad explained that for all the "old folks" there, the sound was simply background noise that reminded them pleasantly of farm life, which is how they all grew up.)

This is why I love my relatives so much. They didn't know I had a neurological reason for having such a dislike of the noise. But they accommodated me anyway. Is that not simply awesome?

My mom says this part of the blog was depressing, and I guess I did go into more detail about the "tractor incident" than everything else, but trust me--I love my relatives, I love spending time with them, and this is one of the main reasons why.

It's just not very interesting to write about the good stuff, which is repetitive (conversations with different relatives) and stays the same (conversations I liked having) ...

Continued in Part V

Vacation Time Part III, or Spending Time with Relatives (Friday)

continued from Part II

Luckily the rain forecast for today had dumped all its sullen load the day before, so we were a go for the trail ride. 

Cousin P- was supposed to pick me up at 7:30 Friday morning, given that Cousin F- lived an hour and 45 minutes away. She'd moved up in the mountains for respiratory relief for her and her youngest daughter, L-, who was the one going on the trail ride with me. 

This was because I was going to be riding Cousin F-'s horse, a fat, complacent, mild-mannered ex-broodmare named Punzie. (Rapunzel).

Rapunzel, after the ride. Her mane, which gave her the name, is on the other side, unfortunately.

Cousin F- had broken her back years ago in a bad car wreck, and Punzie is the only horse with gaits smooth enough she can ride (I think). And they only let strangers ride Punzie (none of the other horses), therefore no horse was available for Cousin P-. 

Given the way Cousin P- backed off with hands up saying no thank you when asked if she'd like to ride around the ring on Punzie, I don't think she would have wanted to go for the trail ride even if there was another horse available.

L- had me in the ring with Punzie to see if I still remembered enough about horses to be okay on a trail ride. Punzie direct-reins, instead of neck-reining, which is what I'd learned. So I also had to learn a new skill quite quickly. But L-'s a good teacher, and I did remember quite a bit about horses and riding them. It took a few times around the ring before it all came back, though. 

I found it odd how the muscle memory triggered the actual memories so I wasn't just riding on instinct (not a good way to ride) and, after learning the direct reining, I managed quite well, I thought. 

The horses were barefoot--no horse shoes--and they hadn't been ridden enough to build up their feet yet. Kind of like how we get callouses on our feet when we walk barefoot a lot. So they had boots! When I rode horses nearly two decades ago, horses had two choices, barefoot or nailed-on horseshoes. 

Now they have boots!

Horse boot next to human in human boots

Boot on horse. The pinky purple stuff is a healing agent of some kind that Punzie had on because the boots had rubbed her wrong the last time she wore them. This also led to her being very crabby about having the boots put on this time. Cousin F- had to do them. 

L- mounted up on her horse, Miss Jet (so named because her mane is black, not the rest of her, which is a fairly typical bay color) and led the way off into the woods surrounding their house.

The woods weren't trail-ridden a lot, the way all the other trail rides I've been on have been, and this meant quite a lot of leaf-in-face incidents. Horses, who naturally look up due to the whole predators in the wild jumping on them from above (the pumas and other big cats), have a nasty tendency to side step just enough to get you into the worst of the tree/weed branches.  Horses also like to try to scrape you off against tree trunks if you don't watch out.

Punzie and I had some discussions about who was in charge during the first part of the trail ride, but after I made her stop and only go when I said so after Miss Jet had stopped, figured out where the next part of the trail was, and started again, Punzie finally admitted I might actually know what I was doing. (She'd stopped when I'd said stop when Miss Jet ahead of us stop, but when Miss Jet started forward again, so did Punzie. Before I told her to. So thus the additional stop and start.)

After that there were fewer tree branches in my face and tree trunks against my legs as Punzie focused her attention on trying to get some illicit food instead. At one point she leaned down to itch the side of her foot. The flies were so bad the horses were both wearing fly masks (another new thing to me) and I've had horses bit before; it's polite to let them at least rub at the spot for a moment. Then while she was down there she tried to eat the one bit of greenery near her and I told her that no, once the itching was over, you had to put your head back up and keep going.

Unbeknownst to me, she'd also undone one of the velcro straps on one of her boots while she was down there. This led to her being very uncomfortable with coming back down the slope through the grass to her house. L- said that's probably why she'd been acting like that (which basically consisted of really not wanting to walk but wanting to go faster, and for Punzie that's unusual, and a few tries at meandering from side to side).

I didn't feel too sorry for Punzie. It was her own stupid fault and next time, maybe she'll learn and not try to take her boots off in mid-ride.

We got back after about forty-five minutes or so, and then L- begged off while Cousins P- and F- and I went for a hike in the nearby state park (which you didn't have to pay to get into ... I thought that was odd). (We had grilled-by-Cousin F-'s hamburgers first. They were yummy.)

The hike was all in hickory forest, and this was nice since the sun was getting kind of hot even though the air was cool. A hike right after the trail ride might seem like overkill, but trust me, I would have been more sore without the hike!

The easy trail

We did a lovely "along the side of the lake" trail, and when that ended, instead of turning around and going back the way we came, we headed up another trail that was more strenuous. Cousin P- could read the map with the elevation lines and didn't figure it would be too awful, as we weren't going the full distance of it, just the bit that wandered back to the parking area from the end of our current "easy" trail.

What the map did not tell us was that the elevation changes, which wouldn't have been that severe had we been going at an angle to them, were quite dramatic since the trail went straight up the side of the mountain.

There were stops to rest.

There were a lot of stops to rest.

And it wasn't always Cousin F-'s idea! She had to use her inhaler a lot and the rest of us worried, but as she is a grown woman, it's rude to tell her that she doesn't know her own strength. I figured she'd say something when she had to. (Or, you know, wave frantically in the air if the whole exercise-induced asthma kept her from talking). 

We saw a turtle

Later she said she'd had fun, even though she'd had to rest extra for two days after, and that's it's good to do things like that.

Then we drove back to her place, and picked up something ... I forget what, that F- had forgotten, and then we tried to go shopping, only I'd forgotten that F-'s "little town near here" was going to be the requisite 30 minutes away, so the stores were closing when we got there. There weren't many, as "little" was quite accurate, and the one stayed open for us. It was a more antique/random stuff place than a gift shop, and although I found a lovely necklace as a gift for someone (I don't wear jewelry anymore), I was also glad I'd been shopping with Aunt K- the day before.

Then Cousin P- and I had to drive the almost two hours home, and stop to get gas on the way, so when I got home, supper was as late as it usually is at my house, and I still got to bed late.

continued in Part IV

Vacation Time Part I, or This Trip is Cursed

I decided to go to our family reunion this year. My parents are getting older and my mom doesn't like driving on the interstate, and my dad, although he's a professional driver with many years of experience behind him, probably shouldn't be driving the day-long distance by himself, either. This worked out very well, then, because instead of driving there by myself, which is difficult both to stay awake and just because driving that long, no matter how much you like it, is boring, I could go with them, stay where they were staying (didn't have to request a place to stay with a relative), and help them drive.

This was the plan. Before we left, however, all kinds of things started happening.

Like: the friends I had lined up to be my cat sitters. I'd asked them back in November of last year when I knew I was going to the reunion this June. Well, they had not one but two deaths in their family, one of those extremely unexpected. So the day before I left I had to find someone else to be my cat sitter.

I asked my neighbor, who I knew liked cats and used to have them, but didn't anymore because one of her grown children married someone who was violently allergic to cats. She texted me every night with updates on how they were doing and who she saw. Amazingly, she saw Apricot the first night she went over there. He didn't even hide, just watched her from the door of the tv room which contains his hiding place. Colby didn't hide either. But after that night all she saw was Thimble and the occasional Colby. Still, it's amazing! My little orange boy's getting some bravery in him.

Okay, so that disaster was averted. Then my dad ends up with this weird sensation two days before where sitting for more than two hours at a time left him in extreme muscle pain. Um, problem driving all day in a car then. The issue did resolve itself and appeared to be just simple dehydration (someone wasn't drinking enough!)

The day before we left I went into work just long enough to write up the previous day's work and leave. And I discovered that a massive amount of work from our outside manufacturers had just showed up (they should have been mailing it to us as they collected it, not waiting till they had a whole group)! Well, this made me feel really guilty about going on vacation and leaving such a massive pile of work to my backup person--whose normal job doesn't involve getting such a large amount done and while I'm used to fitting it in "somehow", he's not.

That was the same day I had to find another cat sitter, too!

Then I'd arranged a trail ride on horseback, my first one in about fifteen years, on Friday while I was up there with family, and the weather, of all things, was forecast to be rainy (and you can't go riding in the rain--it does funny things to the saddle leather, makes you and the horse miserable, and is generally a bad idea).

This trip was cursed ...

The curse continued into the drive itself, sort of.

The driving was fine, except for the fact that my going to bed late caught up with me and I ended up having to switch off with my dad way earlier than I'd planned. But the traffic was okay, and the weather cooperated--nice sunshine with adequate cloud cover.

Mom was our audio book and read to us, except when I had to try to take a nap.

The problem was supper. We stopped at one drive through for them, because they wanted chicken salad, but because I'm allergic to chicken and all that restaurant has is chicken, we had to stop at another drive through for me. I changed my mind at the last minute and got the beef and cheddar. What I did not realize, never having eaten this meal before, was that the cheddar was not a slice of cheese placed on top of the beef. It was instead the liquid form that was drizzled onto the beef.

I'm sure this is just fine for anybody who's not lactose intolerant. Other than being extremely messy to try to eat while driving, anyway. But for me. The only way to get cheddar to be liquid form (well, aside from keeping it heated constantly, and then the cheddar oil separates from the cheese and doesn't really work well) is to mix it with milk while it's hot.

I didn't even think about this. I just ate my sandwich and figured the whole feeling bad business was due to the long drive, the enforced socialization (which is stressful no matter how much I like the people I'm with), and the whole drama leading up to the trip.

It wasn't until the next morning when I was still feeling bad-funny, and then there was the lactose-intolerant bathroom consequences that those of you who are lactose intolerant know all too well, that I figured out what must have happened.

I spent the morning in bed, after stubbornly going for my morning walk.

Which was freezing, because apparently going that far north actually made it colder. I'm not used to this--it's logical, but it's not what happens. Normally it's the same temperature lows and highs that it is here, which is not logical, and thus annoying. I'd packed for the normal experience, though, and thus had no jackets (because I'd forgotten the one jacket I'd planned to take in the car with me, and hadn't packed a walking jacket) and I was going to freeze. Luckily my cousin A- had jackets to spare and she was willing to spare me one. It was even white and a windbreaker, which was very nice both due to visibility issues and the cold wind that morning.

My shadow against the horse farm I walked past during one of my morning walks

It's difficult to walk around their place. They live back in the country--lots of small farms around them with huge fields of barley (almost ready to harvest) and corn (just planted a month ago). But oddly, this means people go faster on the back country roads, which have no shoulders much less sidewalks. Often there's no way of getting off the road either, because it cuts through a mild hill instead of going up and over, so there's either three feet of vertical dirt and weeds rising on either side of the road, or somebody's crops (which I know enough not to trample!).

So being visible as you walk is critical, because the cars have to avoid you, since there is very little way for you to avoid the cars. But the trip "curse" had apparently ended with the bad food the night before (my mother said later she was unimpressed with the food they'd had too, which was her polite way of saying it was icky) and I didn't get run over, and I didn't encounter any transport trucks (18 wheelers) either.

Continued in Part II

Gone for Three Days--Dreadful!

Well, the trip to attend the funeral went well enough, I suppose. I mean, it's sad and lots of people, and emotions and lots of people aren't things I do more than adequately at the best of times.

On the other hand, it was my family, and I love my extended family. I love all my uncles and aunts and almost all of them were there. I got to see the group of them three different times and interact with them and that was wonderful.

I think I got hugged more times in that three days than I had been touched in the previous decade. (I hate to be touched so I don't normally let people do it, but I make exceptions for family and exceptions for needing human contact, which people usually need in times of stress.)

I stayed at the same place my parents were staying, with my cousins G--- and A---.  (I don't have permission to use their names--they might be okay with it but I haven't asked, so they get initials.)

They were great--both with accepting another guest at the last minute (did I mention I made the train ticket reservations the same day I left?) and with just general hospitality. A--'s cooking is absolutely marvelous. She protested she didn't even spend that much time on it. At which point I'm like, how? How did you make all that food, and food that tasted like that, with "not that much time"? (Because I never have that much time, either.)

She told me and showed me a little of her cooking secrets, and I've applied them already in my own life. They aren't really secrets. You know them, I'm sure. For instance. It never occurred to me that you didn't have to eat an entire hard-cooked egg in your salad. Doing so kind of dictates the size of the salad. I didn't realize you could cut one up and then put just a little bit in a little side salad, and put the rest in a sealed container in the fridge for the next day. So you can have a side salad with your regular meal instead of having either "salad" or "something else."

I went for my normal hour walks while I was there. Although they were too polite to say anything, I think they thought I was crazy. They live way out in the country, but that just means the road was two lane and high speed, with no shoulder and fields on either side. I had to step off the road and wait for cars, trucks, and buses to go by, in order not to force them to drive on the other side of the road. My walks sometimes took a little longer than others due to how many times I had to do this.

There was a cow farm I walked past, and the cows were very interested in me. And they moo'ed at me. At home when I go for walks, I get barked at by dogs. Here it was cows. I found this very funny.

I also found it hilarious that cows say the word "moo." Literally. It's like finding a dog that says "bark" instead of making dog barking noises.

Since my train back would get me home Saturday morning at 5 am, and my parents were driving back on Friday, and would get me there by Friday night, I asked if I could go along and drive if they wanted me to.

I guess they wanted me to because I drove the whole way back! The car they had was easy to drive, though, and I think I like having the seat higher off the floor and may look for that feature in the next car I buy, whenever my Prius is no longer viable.

The cats were ecstatic ... eventually. At first they weren't quite sure. After all, I looked like me and I sounded like me but I certainly didn't smell like me. Colby and Thimble investigated my luggage again to give themselves time to think. Apricot just hung back and listened to me talk to them. I offered "Apricot Cuddles" and he almost came in front of me where this takes place after I sit down in the kitchen, but he couldn't quite do it so he bumped my hand apologetically and backed off again.

But once they decided that I was really me after all, then they were extremely glad to see me. Ginger warned me they'd "punish" me for leaving, but they never did, unless you call being extremely clingy for a week punishment. I just enjoyed having velcro kitties. (Thimble is always a bit of a velcro cat anyway, though.)

I found out (during the trip--I was texting my friend every night to see how the cats were doing) that Colby (shame on him) was hiding under the sofa with Apricot. I don't think he would have been doing that if he hadn't had Apricot's example to follow though.

Thimble, on the other hand, was even talked into playing with a wand toy a bit. My friends really tried to take good care of them, but it's hard when you only get to see one of the three (and Colby's eyes reflecting out from under the sofa when peered in at).

They get weighed every week, and I discovered that during that week they all lost weight. Apricot lost nearly half a pound (and when you only weigh 12 pounds and some, that's a lot). However, as I write this it is two weeks later, and they've all gained weight this week. Thimble even managed to get back above 16 pounds. Apricot didn't gain it all back--I hope he doesn't actually, as he is a little chubby at the moment.

So the trip didn't seem to damage the relationships between the four of us at all, and in some ways, they seem to have strengthened. Yesterday morning when I woke up I had Colby on the one side next to my head (which is not unusual; happens randomly) but I also had Apricot sleeping on the other side of my head. Which is highly unusual and never happens. He often comes up to see me on the bed after I wake up in the morning but before I get out of bed, but I've never woken up to have him there asleep next to me. He didn't do it this morning, but then, Colby doesn't always sleep on the bed with me either.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

It reduced down to just a train, thank goodness. I wasn't up to navigating all three (a plane flight, a train trip, and a rental car). But at the beginning of the planning, all three were actually a (dreadful) possibility!

One of my uncles passed away suddenly, and as I really wanted to attend the funeral, I overcame my normal autistic "change=bad; must stay home" impulses (and don't think it was easy) and found a way to get there.

By train. This is the first time I've been on an American train. I was in Europe, once, 17 years ago, and I rode their trains, but I've never been on Amtrak before. It's interesting. I think I may pony up the money for a sleeper car next time since the route I have to take starts at 11 pm and finishes at 12 noon the next day, and I have discovered coach, while far more comfortable than a plane, has just a few too many strangers moving through and disapproving attendants for my ability to handle ... graciously.

This is also the first time I've been away from the boys (my cats) overnight. I hope desperately that they'll be all right. A trusted friend of mine is looking in on them, but you know Apricot isn't going to come out and be okay with her. Thimble's been acting insecure for weeks now, a phase he's going through, but me disappearing isn't going to help that phase be any shorter.

And I'll be gone for three nights if you count the one I left in the middle of the night. Thimble won't be crated on those nights. So I have no idea what will happen with the power balance between him and Apricot. It's possible this will be a good thing in that having Thimble patrolling night and day will allow Apricot to hide and pretend it's all not happening, while Thimble's mind is occupied with the patrolling bit, and both of them end up having the time pass faster until I get back.

They aren't your stereotypical aloof cats, and I really am worried about them.

His fluffy tail doesn't fit.
Of course it's Thimble who actually climbed in!

They didn't know what the suitcase was about, of course, so they were fascinated. I was trying to explain what would be happening, especially the part about me coming back, but I think Apricot was the only one paying attention who got it even a little bit, because he kept giving the luggage and me strange looks, while Thimble and Colby were all over the bags.

And Colby? I have no idea how he'll handle my absence. He could be fine, or he could be left more insecure than Thimble is at the moment. He has been exhibiting a desire to be held and picked up and carried more often, and it doesn't seem to be rivalry with Thimble (who loves to be toted everywhere), but more a simple desire to be close. He generally picks times Thimble is occupied with something else to ask me for cuddles, which means he's not trying to rival Thimble's time with me.

Back to the train: I had to sit next to someone most of the night (his stop happened around 7 am) so I've gotten very little sleep. My stop is at noon or one: I forget if it's 12:ish or 12:55.

The train at my home station
We seriously have a pitiful train
station. You have to climb into the
train using temporary stairs. Even
the tiniest stops in the middle of
nowhere had a platform! My home
town needs to get with it!

Also it took me till 5 am to figure out that I was now small enough (referring to my precipitous weight loss two years ago) that if I flipped up the leg rest part of the seat (a wonderful feature of the train!) and curled up, I could lay flat on the seat and sleep. Next time I'll know. (Sigh. Did it have to take me all night to figure this out?)

A train walks more like a boat; a plane walks like a bus. By that I mean when you walk down the aisle of a plane, it feels like walking down the aisle of a moving tour bus. Yes, occasionally you can hit a "pothole" but all in all, it's got the same motion and the same rumbling forward feel underfoot. With a train, it moves from side to side in a lurching motion that is practically impossible to get used to. I've never been on a boat, (except a cruise ship so big you couldn't feel the motion of the ocean so that doesn't count), but I imagine the sensation would be much the same.

But they let you take water and food and pretty much anything except pets on a train, which is nice for someone like me who drinks lots of water. I got plenty of experience walking down the train aisle to the end of the car where the bathrooms were.

And they did something I thought was really nice. At night, they didn't announce the stops over the intercom like they did during the day. Instead, when you got on, a conductor asked you where you were getting off the train, and then wrote down the three-letter abbreviation that they've all got memorized, and put the piece of paper above your seat. When the train arrived at a stop, the conductors would walk down the aisles looking at the papers above the seats, and if they found one that matched they'd wake the person up and tell them this is your stop. If you weren't already awake, that is.

During the day, they announced the stops over the intercom and while the conductors walked the aisles, it was mostly to help you find your way to the correct door to leave, not to tell you it was your stop. (Sometimes the places the train stopped were small enough that you would have to go up or down the train to find the open doors since the train was longer than the available train platform and they weren't going to let you just hop out on your own.)

And at night the lights were dimmed, too. It was really quite considerate.

My brother says train engines make plenty of electricity, more than they need, actually, and so as a result, every seat had a normal, 120 volt plug available. Most people had varying forms of phones/tablets plugged in while they were using them, if they weren't sleeping.

There was a lounge car and a dining car. Think movie theater food capability (hot dogs, etc) vs a restaurant, albeit with a limited menu. The dining car was expensive for the type of food it was serving, but the lounge car had reasonable prices. I didn't partake of either, though; I had brought snacks and after staying awake all night combined with the swaying motion of the train, I wasn't actually hungry even for my snacks. I wasn't sea-sick or anything. Just wasn't hungry.

It echoes. Beautiful to look at but painful to listen to!

Then when I got to my first stop, we got there early, and I was facing a four hour layover in the train station. Granted, it was a big, beautiful train station. It also echoed like crazy. My autism does not do echoes well. I was rapidly approaching the "I can't handle this" stage and I'd only been there five minutes.

So I went to the information desk and explained the situation and asked if there was an alternative to the wait. I was rather expecting to be told that I'd have to get a rental car and drive to my destination (which would have been an hour drive, not bad, really) but instead he goes, in a bored tone, "Train 43 leaves for L--- in 30 minutes. Stair 7. You don't have to change your ticket."

Of course the echoes were so bad I had to have him repeat it, which made him testy, which made me even less able to handle things, but I got the concept in time to go stand in line for train 43 and call my dad and ask if he could come pick me up from the train station a wee bit earlier (like 3 hours earlier) than we'd planned.

My parents had driven up during the day that I'd left in the middle of the night on the train, which is why they were already there.

My dad was willing and able to pick me up earlier, but of course in the middle of the phone call, the lady comes by asking what stop we were all leaving at. That was multi-tasking I didn't manage well but since I confused my father on the phone and not the busy lady, and I could explain what happened to him after I answered her, it was okay.

Turns out the commuter train apparently breaks apart at some point in the journey and part of the train goes one way and part goes the other, so if you're going to a certain set of stops you have to be in the front half and if you're going to the other set of stops you have to be in the back half.

And no one cared that my ticket said the 3:45 train.

Retrospective: Pippin Goes Travelling in 2007

Just some pictures of us driving the ten hours to the family reunion again.

Are we there yet?

Dozing in the sunshine

Mr. Sleep Head would prefer to sleep
the whole trip but then he wants
to play the whole night after.

He's going to need poked
soon so he wakes up.

Retrospective: Pippin Explores the Old Cloister

In the same 2006 trip where lots of family came, my sister and I went exploring to an old cloister (still operational) that was within walking distance of the bed and breakfast we were staying in.

We accidentally came in the wrong way, through a charming old graveyard, the kind with the overarching trees and the lush grass and the worn gravestones with all kinds of barely readable long epitaphs on them. It certainly looked like an official entrance.

It was nice, though, because we got to explore the old no-longer-used buildings on our own rather than being shuffled around with a whole bunch of other people and tour guide squawking at us. I had Pippin with me, in his carry sack.

The amphitheater

This little amphitheater was my sister's favorite spot. She wanted to sit and meditate for a while, so while she did that, I got bored and let Pippin out to explore. He had a harness and leash on, so if he got scared I wouldn't lose him.

Pippin, intrepid explorer

Pippin was slow to get started, as usual. Since everything was scary when it was new, even after I'd mostly gotten him over his scaredy cat reactions, it would take him a little while to start exploring things.

Trying out a bench for size

But once he started exploring, he usually had a lot of fun.

Pretending he's a prowling kitty

 The benches, unbeknownst to me, were hollow underneath. I suppose if I knew about construction techniques I would have known at once that they had to be; no one would waste that much wood making them solid. But I didn't realize it, and Pippin found this out before I did. Because you see, the ends of the benches are open, so he could go inside them!

Just a little bit left outside the bench

He crawled underneath the bench since it was an excellent hiding spot, and did so before I realized what he was about. Now you'll notice in the pictures that show the whole bench ... it's not particularly wide. Or tall. So a large cat can't turn around.

He's stuck. I had to drag him out slowly by the harness. This resulted in a cat with a tummy full of dead leaves, sticks, and other natural detritus. And of course I hadn't thought far enough ahead to bring his comb. This is a normal problem of mine ... even though I try to think ahead, I always miss the most obvious stuff.

My sister, being slightly more careful of her own appearance than I, had a comb in her purse. It was her comb for her own hair, but she very graciously allowed me to use it on Pippin. And although I did my best, sitting on the bench with Pippin undignified and upside down in my lap, to pull all the debris out by hand, I really needed the comb for the small stuff.

And Pippin, his usual calm self, put up with all of this without a wiggle or wince.

Retrospective: Pippin Goes Travelling and Gets Away

In 2006 we had a big family deal where lots more people came than usual.

One of my sisters and my brother and his wife and I all stayed in the same bed&breakfast. We kind of occupied the whole place!

The lady at the bed & breakfast usually did not allow pets, but she made an exception for me because Pippin reminded her of a cat she'd had. And also because I was able to reassure her of his excellent behavior, as he wouldn't scratch her stuff or destroy anything or meow all night.

But I was ordered that I must keep him strictly in my room, nowhere else unless I was taking him in or out of the house.

The front of the bed & breakfast

We got there late at night ... okay, what I consider late at night. Probably around 9 or 10. I was exhausted from the drive. I set up Pippin's food and water and litter box.

Food and water next to the bed.
Travelling with a cat necessitates bringing
water from home ... unless you want to
deal with a tummy upset!

Now the deal was I got this room because it was the only one that didn't have a connecting bathroom. It was the least desirable room so she was letting me have an animal in it because it wasn't exactly her best selling room anyway. This meant that I had to leave the room and walk down the hallway to the bathroom if I had to go in the middle of the night.

The middle of summer despite the
christmas lights on the stairway.

My door is visible to the right of this picture, at the top of the stairs. Walking along the not-stairs part that is in the picture, you reach the bathroom at the other end of it.

If you've read some other parts of my blog, you already know I have trouble sleeping at night and usually have to take something. In a strange place my trouble sleeping is even more exaggerated, so I took something that first night to help me sleep.

This meant that when I awoke in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, I was extremely fuzzy headed and not aware of my surroundings. 

I thought I'd made sure Pippin didn't follow me out of the room, so when I got back from the bathroom, I simply went in, shut the door, and went back to sleep.

I found out the next morning I hadn't succeeded in keeping him from following me into the hallway. Even though Pippin was in the room with me when I woke up.

The poor beleaguered lady of the house, who had only let me have Pippin with me there on my promises that he would stay in the room and not damage any thing, comes upon Pippin gingerly working his way down the stairs early that morning. Obviously he had spent most of the night investigating the hallway and closed doors of the upstairs and was just now venturing farther. Three cheers for my scaredy cat for mostly staying put and not running loose through the entire house!

Now she doesn't know Pippin. She doesn't know if she can pick him up or if he'll majorly object to that. Yelling for me to come out and get my cat would be very much against her hospitality style. So she tries to shoo him back up the stairs. 

Pippin very graciously allows himself to be shooed, without running in fright or trying to dodge past her. And this is a strange person that he's never seen before, so that part in and of itself is amazing.

She manages to get him up the stairs and to my door, which she then opens and Pippin goes back in. It's probably all he wanted in the first place, to be back with me. He depended on me a lot for his emotional support and he was probably quite scared to find himself locked out.

So when I woke up, he was "still" in the room, and I had no idea what had happened. The lady of the house didn't tell me about it in an angry or accusing way. In fact, if I remember correctly, my siblings had already been up before me that morning, and she'd told them in more of a "this funny thing happened" way. When I showed up, I basically got told by all of them what had happened. 

Of course I apologized profusely but she said it was no big deal; he was a very well behaved cat and hadn't been a problem. 

But after I got home I talked to my doctor and changed up my sleep meds for something a little less severe so I'd least I'd notice the next time I locked my poor Pippin out of the room!

Pippin finds a nice spot.
No, the stove isn't on. It's
the middle of summer!

Retrospective: Pippin Goes Travelling to Luray Caverns

Luray Caverns has giant permanent billboards that line the interstate I spend the most time on when I drive to my family reunions.

So, not thinking much about the fact that I had Pippin with me, I stopped in to see them, one trip. This was when I still split the trip into two days, five hours of driving a day, so stopping for a tourist trap wasn't a problem with regards to time.

I got lucky, because unlike most caverns, Luray actually does allow pets. You have to carry them the whole time, however. Well, this wasn't a problem for me. I didn't plan to let Pippin out of his carry-sack anyway.

His carry-sack was a large pouch that strapped onto me with the pouch in front. Kind of like those human baby carriers I'm sure you've seen. I said to the lady who told me the pet rules that I guess you don't get many large dogs then, and she said I'd be surprised. They had a guy bring his large dog in a baby carriage, and since Luray is handicapped accessible, the baby carriage was able to go into the caverns too. (The stairs have a platform than can go up and down that you can put a wheelchair on ... or in this case, a baby carriage.) She said the dog was extremely well behaved and just lay in the carriage the whole time, looking around.

Deep caves

The caverns are very beautiful and serene. They are nice and cool, too, for the middle of summer (they are that same temperature in winter, but then it's not so nice because you're already cold). I really love the various formations and patterns that the rock and the water have made over many centuries.

One cool (ha ha, sorry, didn't mean the pun) feature of Luray Caverns is that although the tourist route is the same every time, the caves themselves do not, apparently, have any end. Nobody's found an end to them so far, anyway!

Rock alien

Pippin and me

What surprised me was how much Pippin liked the caverns. Usually when he was in the carry sack, you couldn't see him. He'd hide from the scary world and wouldn't stick his head out at all. But when we climbed the stairs down into the caverns, he perked up and stuck his head up, gazing around in pleasure.

Pippin in his carry sack

I don't know if it was the intense quiet of the caves, or the dark that despite the artificial lighting seems to permeate the place, or something else, but he really liked the caverns. He stayed "out" and watching his surroundings the whole time we were down in the caves. 

We went back to Luray several times in his lifetime, and he enjoyed them each time just as much. Who knew a cat would like caverns?