Follow the yellow brick what, now?

More like follow the bright orange construction cones. Heh.

So I'm back. Miss me?

I learned a few things on this trip- the first time I've gone up to hell house on my own. The first? It's much better when you take people with you. Especially when you find a snake on the front porch. Because they'll laugh with you when, for the rest of the time you're there, every time you go out the front door you go "Aah Snake! Aaah! Snake!" in your head. Picture if you will, Sicily, 1910. Wait, wrong intro. Picture if you will, me, on very little sleep, hauling my crap in across the patio, when I look down a few feet in front of me and spy the snake. My brain goes "Guh?" "what is that, and why is it moving? Uhhh.. that's a snake. Snake? SHIT! SNAKE!" Meanwhile it moseyed into a space between the steps and did not reappear for the rest of the week. Didn't stop me from being paranoid. (or going "Aaah snake! Aaah snake!")

The other reason why it's good to have people around? It's quiet there. Really, really quiet. And it's easy to freak yourself out in the middle of the night. When the power has gone off. And it's storming like a mofo. Not that I did that, mind you... but, I thought about it.

But sometimes it's not so good to have the people around, like when I did the "Super Sauce Tour of the Places of my Childhood Memories". Not only would it have bored the shit out of those who would have been along, but it was more than a bit depressing.

I'm sure I mentioned it before, but the house I grew up in is up for sale again. When I drove out past my grandparent's place, I could see it full on (usually, when I go by, it's the other way, and you just get a sideways glance). No curtains in the windows, yard looking like ass, the place is empty. Sad. I was half tempted to stop in this morning and poke around the yard a bit, but the neighbors wouldn't know me anymore, and I wasn't up for explaining why I was there. Trying to tell someone how much work my parents put into that place, that the room that looked into the backyard was mine. My dad built it for me when I was 9. The dining room that never had electricity the entire time we lived there, the year I made the heads of the three stooges out of snow, and sat them on the railing of the deck. How I used to pretend I was the next Tom Brokaw, sitting on the pull-doown steps of the attic. All of that, in a few seconds, breezing down 219. Nobody else would get that.

Or wandering around the union cemetery, trying to find my grandparents and my uncle. I hadn't been there since 1987. The cemetery's small, but my memory was off- it took me a while to find their stones. It's the first time I got to see where Dad's parents are buried. Went to see mom's parents too, one of the first times since Granddad died.

I drove around some. You just don't get anywhere without driving. The ice cream stand we used to go to as kids is closed now. The guy who owned it passed away this year. Maybe next year his son will take over. The B-Line's closed too, the gas station next door, and the road expansion took care of it. But there were good things too- The "candy striped" bridge my bus used to go over every day is still there, and still painted in pastel stripes. The community center's still there, and the park we used to go to in the summertime. They've got much cooler stuff there now.

Mostly I just stayed at the house. I'm sure I surprised the Kesslers and the Corbins, they're used to seeing the truck at the house instead of my car. At least they didn't call the cops. Heh. I kicked back in the front yard, reading, listening to the drone of the small planes landing at the airport over the hill, and thought. I worked on my quilt, and marvelled at how much things have changed. The house looks nothing like it did when I was a child. Granddad's big garden's gone, grassed over a few years before he died, even. Sal's doghouse is gone, and the embankment that used to seem so steep when we were kids, is barely a hill anymore. Even the "pinchy thing" plants by the old barn and garage were less than I remembered. But, strangely enough, the smell of tomato plants still lingers where the cold-frame was.

In all, it was a good week for getting away, for navel-gazing, and escaping the godawful heat here. I want to go back again, maybe in the fall, and bring some people along. Now that I've got the more meaningful things out of the way, I can go and have some fun. And fear not, I promise to be snarky later on or even tomorrow. I've got a rant ready about the 4 tv stations you can pull in up there. (And one of them is the creepy-assed religious channel, aiee!)