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This morning the song of "Bob White, Bob White, Bob White," was back again. There is a huge wind chime outside my window that bongs rather than trills. It is so quite here-even quiter than back home in Auburn. The breeze is up and my curtains are billowing: I simply cannot believe that I am going back home today.
Once I start trying to stuff all of my Illinois-dirty laundry into my suitcases, it becomes apparent that I must. I'm out of clean clothes, my electric toothbrush needs recharging, I'm in serious need of exfoliating, and I'm desperate to take off my nail polish which began chipping off last night. It makes me feel like such a wimp compared to Chloe Washburn Dexter, Sarah Frances, Sarah Jane, Chloe Frances, Augusta Priscilla, Lillian Lenore, Susan Florence, Miriam Ethel, Cora Earnestine, Vivienne Pearl, Carol Lucine, and Ruby Adora. All of those Maxfield women braved the Illinois heat, humidity, and hard work in layers of long skirts and high boots, with few changes of clothes and very few opportunities to bathe.
Fred is his usual helpful and friendly self at breakfast. Either Fred or Connie always makes sure that they are
there in the morning to toast me a bagel and pour my coffee, even though I have been the only guest most of the week. I have so enjoyed my stay here this week! There is not a hint of "faux country" decor, not a "Welcome Friends" goose to be found. The house, although added on to and redone a bit, retains the flavor of the original home which has been in the Nichoson/Sams family, along with the land, since the early 1800's. I can't think of a better place for me to have spent my time in Toulon.
www.indiancreekvineyard.com/ will get you more information-I highly recommend it!
Fred helps me wrestle my luggage into the rental-I can't believe that they gave ME a red car. I snap a quick picture of Bandit who is on the trail of something and won't come pose for me; Connie has managed to evade my camera, but Fred lets me take his picture. I decide to give the GPS one last chance to redeem itself and I am off. I am trying so hard to remember everything that my senses are on overload: I'm trying to remember the exact shade of corn
stalk, the red that so many people use for barns and sheds, the clear blue sky with impossibly white puffy clouds, the smell of the air, and the way the cool, moist air feels when a breeze cuts through the driving sun light.
So of course I almost drive off the road and then would have gotten lost again except that the GPS has stopped having a tantrum and, knowing that it doesn't have to spend time with a driver who should take a 12 step program for the hopelessly lost, is now functioning exactly as it should, thank you very much. There is a terrible dread in the pit of my stomach as I approach the airport: I am entering hell. It is not that I hate flying, I actually enjoy flying except for the cramped quarters; but I cannot stand airports and the rude and totally stupid behavior that airports and airplanes seem to bring out in people.
Actually Peoria airport is a piece of cake. They don't even OPEN the security check until an hour before a plane leaves, and they search your luggage at the ticket counter as you check in-so I knew that
all of my souveniers were safely going home with me and that I wasn't going to have to endure a cavity search just because I was taking home two rusty old nails.
Atlanta, however, is the inner ring of hell. When did it become so popular to take babies in arms and toddlers in strollers on airplanes? There were NINE babies on board and at least 14 small children. I watched one family sit in silent, worshipful rapture as a three year old terrorized (I'm speculating here by ages) an uncle, grandma, grandpa, mom, dad, and a cousin by throwing things at them and then running up and hitting them. "Isn't he such a boy?' His grandma squealed. I hope she thinks this behavior is adorable in about 14 years when he thinks he needs some extra cash from her purse and uses the same tactics. I really had to sit on my teacher voice. I would just LOVE to have a parent conference with these folks. The flight to Sacramento was packed and their was a constant chorus of baby wail the entire time. One child had a particularly lusty and enduring cry, managing to keep it up
for the entire 5 hours. The others gave up from time to time and apparently slept. When I was a kid we could barely afford to go on vacations and it was always in a car-you only terrorize your own kin that way.
The baggage pick up was not as bad as usual, I must admit. Most people have learned that the entire family does not need to hover around the carousel in order to gather their belongings. It did strike me as an indication of how far we have strayed from civilty when I was virtually pushed aside by men to get their suitcases before I could grab mine. I was ready for the second one and I hope that bruise on his shin ("Oh, I'm sorry, did I step on your whole entire leg?") will serve as a reminder that men, if they can't help women-especially women of a certain age- should at least stay out of our way.
It was also eye-opening that women on the shuttle to the parking lot were helping other women with their luggage while very large men sat and watched us, took seats and left old people and women with babies in arms to struggle to keep their balance while they rested comfortably. Unbelievable! Illinois, you get a great big shiny gold star for manners, friendliness, and helpfullness. California, go sit in the time out chair until you think you can come rejoin the union and be nice.....
I called John from the road and told him to open a bottle of red wine-I'm coming home honey! It's good to be home-but I miss Toulon.
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Richard
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Good job
It looks like my vicarious trip to Toulon is over. It was a wonderful--I have you to thank for that. Please thank John for setting up your blog to come to my Yahoo account. It didn't go to my umaryland account for some reason and when I replied the reply was returned to me several days later. Will there be any more forthcoming?