A Few Toasts, A Few Tears

"Been talkin' 'bout the way things change

And my family lives in a different state

If you don't know what to make of this

Then we will not relate."

..."Rivers and Roads" by The Head and the Heart

Cosmic change can be felt in a profound manner or in a very simple one. An example being when heartbreak and happiness collide and the result is a salty drop of water falling down your cheek.

Though there's a lot more happiness than sadness as part of the family moves to be closer to their integral family, there is also the realization a twenty minute car ride won't put me at their front door ever again. 

And so it goes.

Last night a going away dinner of sorts was attended by most of the immediate family. As per family rules, it was loud, dripping with sarcasm and included copious amounts of food and wine.What it didn't include was a selfie to preserve the moment. That will be in our hearts and memories. It was close to the perfect sendoff. The invisible empty chair where my Dad would have presided with pride over his family, was still a presence in our hearts. Next month will be five years he's gone and I must admit he's been giving me more than a few pokes in the ribs lately.

So now a new chapter begins. I now have a new excuse for a road trip. And more of an appreciation for the 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' adage. 

Nothing stays the same, so embrace the new norm and enter a new address in the GPS.

Still gonna miss you all. xxxxo

Dad's story is here

Mom's story is here

A Few Weekend Observations

After spending a relaxing weekend driving over 1000 miles throughout seven states, here are a few things I have noticed.

People have no friggin' clue how to merge onto a highway. When cars on the highway are moving at 70-75 mph and you pull onto the highway doing 40, if I don't hit your ass, I'm gonna be cursing it out.

People in New Hampshire take the 30 mph speed limit a little too seriously. In Jersey, we tend to take it as a suggestion, it works better that way.

People, if I'm doing 75-80 mph, in a 65 mph zone, and the highway is basically empty except for me and you, I would appreciate if you would just pass me instead of riding up my ass.

I truly hate driving in the state of Massachusetts. Crossing over the state line after driving forever through Vermont without a rest area in sight, the words "Welcome Station Exit 26" were like an oasis in the desert. Unfortunately Exit 26 leaves you off in the most congested retail/fast food area you could ever imagine. And not a sign, arrow or inkling of where the Welcome Station might be.

Again in Mass., we followed an exit sign pointing to a Seafood restaurant. Where the exit led us was an industrial park, with no further signage as to where the seafood restaurant or any of the other places advertised might be.

When you are driving a Taurus, or a Mini Coop or any of a hundred small cars, can you just take the 3.5 minutes it takes to clean the snow off your damn roof. Do you not think when you are driving upwards of 80 mph that the snow you were too lazy to remove isn't gonna fly off into the cars behind you? I swear I avoided at least twenty sheets of ice and snow flying right toward me today.

It was encouraging to see windmills and solar panel fields throughout Vermont. Why can't this be done everywhere?

On a fun note...Where can you pull into the parking lot of a diner and hear "Wild Thing" blaring out the speakers? Tilton NH, that's where. The Tilt'n Diner is a total throwback to the 50s, 60s, 70s and it, and the food rocks.

Though not from the diner, dark chocolate mousse with raspberry sauce and toasted hazelnuts is a gift from the heavens.

I don't know how to relax.

Road Trip: Bouncing Around Beantown

It's a very strange thing to go to a baseball game and not root, root, root for the home team. But there I was, Yankee fan sitting in the Grandstand at Fenway Park, watching the hated Boston Red Sox play the Arizona Diamondbacks.

I felt like Charlie, the General Manager of the Cleveland Indians in the movie Major League when he would be secretly clapping for his team. That was me every time the Red Sox hit into a double play or struck out. A tiny fist pump out of sight of Red Sox Nation... and I made it out of the stadium alive.

It was a long overdue weekend to visit my beautiful niece who moved up to Boston when her too-smart-for-his-own-good husband got the job of his dreams and they left the Great State of New Jersey. Since the two of them have always made each other's dreams come true, Boston it is for the foreseeable future.

Sprockets

So we drove up Saturday morning, got together and caught up on life. Went to the game and by a weird coincidence, one of my fellow writers at Sprocketink.com, also not from the area, was going to his first game at Fenway... the same night. Honestly, what are the odds? Put that in the books as an added treat for the weekend, as it was great fun to meet him, if only for a short amount of time. As our Sprocket Ink crew are scattered all over the world, this was a big deal in the Sprocket Ink Universe.

Next morning we left at 9 am for the 250 mile ride home.... it took ten hours. Not so much the traffic as the way we travel. You've heard of the road less traveled, well we tend to make our own roads. If something looks interesting to the left, we go left. It lets you see things that are not listed in the travel guides. It also requires many more hours to get to where you were going. But along the way there is beautiful scenery and odd things. Did you know we have our own mini Easter Island right in Narrangansett, Rhode Island?

It had been a while since we had been up north, and in that time windmills have been sprouting up along the coast. About damn time America. They look ever so much nicer on the coastline than nuclear power plants. Also, I really believe there is nothing in the world that will soothe your soul more than looking out into the ocean. Maybe music, but the ocean has her own voice.

Now my inner voice tells me it's time for work... and some music.

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Road Trip Revisited: Newport

Back from a non-stop weekend on the road. One thing I know for sure...I ain't as young as I used to be.

Now don't get me wrong, this old girl hasn't lost a step. It's just that when the music stops...well it takes a little longer to get off the dance floor. ugh, Monday.

So we left home early Saturday, around 7:30 AM, loaded with supplies and anticipation. An over-nighter to a city we had visited many times before: Newport, Rhode Island. Beautiful town...very high end.

One of the first things to catch my eye as we entered Connecticut on I-95N, was a caravan of Utility Trucks. At least 25 in all, driving south...assuming they were on their way to Florida to help out in the aftermath of the approaching hurricane Isaac. I would also assume they have changed their direction to New Orleans at this point.

As always, the minute we can, we jump off the highway and take the scenic route. Our definition of scenic is probably different than most. I've driven a lot of logging roads in Maine, dirt roads in New Hampshire, and stumbled across many beautiful scenes you would never find in any guide book. Even before GPS, I never worried about getting lost. It's the freakin' USA...somewhere along the line, there's gonna be a sign to lead you back to where you need to go.

We arrived in Newport around 10:30, walked around the wharf area a bit, and realized it was too damn crowded for us. Now, although we had been to Newport at least 5 or 6 times before, normally we travel with a dog. And, we never travel with a dog in the summer, always in mid-late fall, after the tourist season is over. This crowd thing was a whole new experience. And, not being the most people person you would ever meet,  it was a bit much.

One very interesting thing. Down on Thames Street, tourist central, they don't just have trash cans. They have solar powered trash compactors. I shit you not. Loved this one with the Reggae Sunsplash ad on it.

It was mid-day and time for a snack and a cocktail. Found a place on the wharf with fresh seafood and cold drinks. Perfect. A little down time, before we check out the Naval Base, where we would be going that night. Then check-in at the hotel, catch up on emails, tweets and blogs...yes I am that addicted, freshen up and head back out. I was on a mission for some chowder. The place we wanted to go to was a bit hard to find and once we did, realized it would be too long to get a table. Instead, we would end up grabbing a burger at the Naval Base. Chowder would have to wait.

Off to the Naval Base for some music and fireworks. Right on the water, surrounded by beautiful boats, a beautiful coastline and sailors. hmmm. When did they get so damn young? But I digress.

The weather was perfect. The show featured some friends of the Music blog, rock band Survivor. As usual, the band was great. As I've written in the music blog, I had also seen them early on in the tour. The time together since then has left the band tighter in sound and looser onstage. Playing for the troops, while staring at the American flag flying on the hill, has to make your heart beat just a little faster.

As soon as the show ended, the fireworks began. The fireworks barge was anchored so the Newport Bridge was in the background. And, it was quite a show...longer and more elaborate than I was expecting. A fine night in Newport, to be sure.

The morning was a little bittersweet. Right outside of Newport, is the Davisville Seabees Museum. My dad was a Seabee. Fate is a strange thing. Less than two weeks after his death, here I am on the grounds where Seabee training took place..scattering some of his ashes. Prior to it being a military site, it was a winery. My father would have been happy on both accounts, to be there for eternity.

After a few more off the beaten path adventures, it was time for the long drive on I-95S. Traffic, traffic and more traffic. At last, only more bridge to cross...the George Washington Bridge, yeah back home. Jersey, baby.

All in all, a great weekend, definitely a stress-reliever. Now back to everyday life and workin' for the weekend.

I miss the salt air already.

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And So It Began...The Trip To Danville

The Road Trip.

After picking me up at the weekend house, the Drum-Mamma and I began going over the supplies each of us had packed. Beer, wine, champagne on my end (hey, ya just don't know what you might be in the mood for) and snacks and a few surprises at her end. Oh, by the way she said. I brought some vodka shooters along with this new cranberry with sparkling water drink.  Without missing a beat, I asked "did you bring a lime?"  Now most people might think that was a bit over the top. After all, this is an overnighter where we will be spending quite a lot of time out of the room. And anyway...do you really need the lime?


Well, yeah. The fact that the Drum-Mamma tends bar made me fairly certain my questions would be answered with a twinkle in her eye. Indeed it was. And as I sat on my butt and watched her mix a perfect afternoon cocktail, it reminded me of so many other moments over the years, where one of us so perfectly complemented the other.

The ride to Danville was pretty easy and the two hours were filled with reminiscing of times past. It's always so interesting to hear the different memories people have of a specific event.  Not that you remember what occurred differently, but what was memorable to you. Sometimes walking in a door at a different time creates an impression in your mind, that another person might totally miss.

And then there are the things that you both remember. And you laugh. This night was to be filled with many new memories, new friends and much fun.

But I knew that we were destined to have a great time as soon as she said there would be a wedge of lime in my cocktail.

And that's called jersey prepared.
Cheers.

To read the music reviews of the night check out:
The Music in Danville: First Up, Hybrid Ice and
The Music in Danville: Jimi Jamison Rocks Hard

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On The Road Again: Next Stop Danville

To say I'm looking forward to this weekend is an understatement of global proportions.

It's been a while since I've gone on a 'girl's night out' road trip. And this trip gets the team back on the road... together. AKA Mona and Sylvia (a private joke where the names have been changed to protect our relatives). Pack up the car with the a bag of essentials, some snacks, booze and this time around...instead of a boombox, an Iphone and speakers. Nice.

So, along with spending what is for us, an unusually large block of time together, I am also looking forward to meeting some people with whom I have a new type of friendship...an online one, cultivated through mutual interests. It is one of those interests which is the reason for the road trip. A rock concert...yes indeed.

Now my friend, the drum-mamma and I are veterans of the rock and roll concert scene. It was music that first formed the bond between these two Jersey Girls back when Springsteen's band was just him and the boys. No retreat, no surrender.


The who, what and where of the show have previously been mentioned in tweets and in blogs, but those facts are not what is important. The events will play out in days to come on both this blog and the music blog. I shudder to think of the possible things I will be writing about.

But this Saturday, four people coming from three directions will arrive at an unfamiliar destination, wildly contemplating whether the evening will live up to expectations. With the chance to share the night with similarly crazy people all feeling the fire of rock and roll in their hearts..I think we've got a good shot.

Fill up the tank drum-mamma...you know us Jersey Girls don't pump gas.

Road Trip...maybe one for the ages.

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Born To Run: You Know It

Did you ever have a day when you just wanted to fill up the tank and drive.  Destination...anywhere.  Having one of those days today. No big reason why, sometimes when you work from home...the walls close in a bit.  Or, it could be I won't be headed out of town this weekend, no lake house therapy for me. Bummer.  And I'm a driver. No riding shotgun for this girl, give me the wheel...I'm gone.

Years ago when a mood like this hit, it would be time to head down the shore. Yeah it's Jersey..we don't go to the beach, we go down the shore.  The shore for me, is not so much about going to the beach...as it is breathing in the salt air, walking on the boardwalk and ducking into a dive bar at 2 in the afternoon.  Times change, friends to party with in the middle of the afternoon are pretty scarce.  Like the Allman Brothers sing "there's no one left to run with anymore."

I filled up the gas tank earlier, and for a minute I was so close...but there's a slate of things to do this weekend and nowhere on that list is any mention of the Parkway...south.

Oh well, it's almost the middle of February, can't complain about the winter...the days will be getting longer and one by one all of the gang will be getting itchy for a "sick" day.  I'll be ready.

You can ride shotgun...I'm driving.