Road trip summer

So I've been away for the past month  . . . well not away, but I have treated my blog like an ugly red-headed stepchild.  Eh, I've been busy.  And by busy, I mean busy and then on the world's longest road trip.

And, yes, me made made the trip.  My second set of Amy Butler travel bags (The Weekender and the August Fields), as the first set . . . I'm not posting photos of the dead orange bag.  Here's a link to remind you of her in her pretty and new days.

In short, I had promised my Mom a week of my face this summer, but in the meantime a family member is in the end stages of cancer.  Since my Dad doesn't fly, and my trip to Chicago in July got cancelled postponed, I went with him.  Not so bad . . . until you get to Ohio and Indiana.  Shit, I lived in Indiana for three years of my youth.  Yet, I managed to forget some of the billows of the middle states.  Middle America . . .

Corn, bitches.

Dad eating a Pennsylvania plum.  What? I bought from fruit stands along the way.  

Sunset in Ohio.  

Oh, but the best part . . . we found the Griswalds in Ohio!  Look close, there's a foot in the back window.

 But then . . .

Ohio, a corny state.

 Oh wait, it's Indiana! I lived here once.

Well, blow me away.  COOOOOOOOOOOORN.  Oh wait, there's soy beans for a mile and then MORE CORN.  

About this point I started thinking about a literature reading in college and how my friend Jeremiah did a performance piece. He bellowed "There was a kernel of corn on it!" for about five minutes.  That was his entire piece.  That . . . that performance echoed in my head.  All. The. Way. Across. Indiana. 

I sent this pic to my MA adviser   He told me I needed to get in touch with my inner tranquil side.  Pfft.  

Uncle Harry, my Dad's cousin.  Perhaps in my final days I'll be that full of piss and vinegar.  He even had Beck's in his cup.

Since my Dad grew up in Hammond, northern Indiana with its matchbox houses, he's also a fan of White Castle.  Shit Castle, as I like to call it, now has chicken sliders.  I ate four of those, and I took a bite (of one corner) of my Dad's pile of shit sliders.  Anyway you shake it White Castle is a one way road to peeing out your butthole and fumigating a room.  My Dad turned green from his gas.  Our hotel room, the next morning, stunk like a full morgue sans electricity for a week.  Shit.  I still feel bad for the maid.  

Gag me.  

Of course, in West Virginia we found more delights for the senses.  

Though, we did stop at the Tamarack Travel Center . . . This one was worth it.  We walked the artisan shops (all West Virginia made) and stretched.  It was beautiful to see the hand carved items, and of course the odd things.   I picked up some West Virginia honey and bought Mr. Fairytale some pickles and some pickled zucchini.  He has a pickle fetish, and neither one of us had ever had pickled zucchini.  

Well, then we got back to VA and Mom and I went to North Carolina for a couple of days.  What did we do? We went to her favorite fabric store, but before we got there the dryer at the house died . . . do we got the load in the washer dried in town and my wet undies road down to Gaston air-drying in the back seat.  The Jarratt laundry closed years ago, so off to E-town it was.  

At least southern VA gave us a beautiful sky that night.  

 Though, when my Mom and I walked into the hotel we had a blast from the past.  Before cell phones and wireless, we stayed there on a trip back from New Mexico (during my MA days).  Back then, we stayed at the Holiday Inn "on the scary hill."  Yea, Gaston has grown up a bit in the past decade or so.  The scary hill is hardly noticeable anymore as it has a plethora of restaurants and hotels on it now.  

 

 So then Momma and I went to Mary Jo's.  The best I can describe it: the Mood of the south.  She made fine use of her walker.  No, no broken hip.  Just poor balance.  ;) Half that fabric is mine, as she outspent me.  And . . . she paid a big chunk of the bill.  :D

I snorted at the sign on this chair.  

Fabric!

I drank some Cheerwine.  Just a little.  There's a southern delight if there ever was one.  

At least there wasn't corn this time.

Then Mom was dying to come to Mood . . . so Dad and I obliged.  They drove me back to NY, so that we could take her to Mood and him to The Strand.  Aside from the two of them in shock and awe at NYC traffic, they both said they would rather stay out of NYC.  They came, they saw, they are done.  Mom said she likes Mary Jo's better, as it has more her style fabric (i.e. quilting cotton).  

Mom and Dad outside The Bean, across from The Strand.  They were pretty tired at this point.  

Dad, proud of his find.  

 This pattern:

Mom and Me . . . half that loot is mine.  Dad bought the making for my coat.  Just wait, in October when the chill sets in, there will be a weekend I don't leave the sewing machine and the Italian wool.  ;)

 Silks . . . The silk isle at Mood is my favorite.  Though, with Mom and Dad I didn't get any.  Got some shirting though.  And the stuff for my coat!

In short, I have enough fabric to last me a few months . . . rest assured, I've made the Lakeside PJs from Grainline in a clearance cotton I found and a Briar or two.  Easy, cute, and comfy.

Though, when I came home Ripple and I were perplexed.  We found this insanity in the park.

And in case you didn't get enough corn earlier, here's a couple more shots to fill your day.  A friend said the clouds were reminiscent of Bob Ross photos.  They are.

And what's up next:

Gingham with a side of details!  That pocket . . . I haven't decided on it yet.  I saw this shirt on Molly Shannon in the movie Wedding Weekend and then this past week on Perception a character has a gingham shirt on with ribbon trim on the button facing and the inside color stand.  I'm trying my hand . . . I'm certain there will be a blog post on this one, as I've been more than adventurous in altering the pattern to fit me (let alone details).  I have the collar, sleeves, and buttons to do this weekend.