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December 10, 2015

Flat On My Ass

Back in late-October, Hubby and I did a three-day ride to celebrate his birthday. We left home on Friday and rode roughly south and west in the mountains of Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina. When we left Mount Airy, North Carolina on Sunday morning, temps were in the 30s and there was frost on my motorcycle. So the ride was a bit chilly.

For the most part, the cold didn’t bother me. But, after about six or so hours, when we stopped for gas outside Charlottesville, Virginia, I realized was a bit chilled. I could function okay, but the cold had definitely settled into my bones. We took the highway from there to Culpeper, which took about an hour. During that hour-long, 70+ mph ride, I got really cold. I didn’t realize just how cold until we stopped. When I got off of my motorcycle, I was so cold and stiff that I fell right on my ass. Literally. Thanks to my protective gear, I was uninjured.

That hour-long ride is a good metaphor for my mental outlook over the past year or so. I’d been sort of down for a long time. By the end of last year, it had really settled in. Once Spring rolled around, I realized I was more down than usual, but I attributed that to the whole seasonal/winter blues things, and figured it would go away. But it didn’t. And, with other stuff going on — external stressors — I didn’t notice. I kept right on coping, functioning day to day. As the year progressed, my mood slowly darkened.

Finally, in early November, I realized I needed help.

I’m not a big sharer of feelings. I never have been. But a friend’s recent confession revealing a struggle with depression inspired me to share a bit here.

Monsters aren't under my bed, they're in my head. — Monsters aren’t under my bed, they’re in my head.

I’ve actually been plagued by clinical depression to varying degrees for as long as I can remember. Few people know that. Even fewer realize just how bad it can get.

On one hand I’m amazed that I didn’t realize sooner what was going on. On the other, I’m not surprised at all. Depression really is like a big, strong, intelligent, cunning, sneaky monster. It eats away at you in small bits and bites, dribs and drabs, infecting you with self-doubt and loathing, sapping your physical strength. The worse it gets, the more effort it takes to get through every day, the more exhausted you become, mentally and physically.

It’s a vicious cycle. Really.

Depression affects people in different ways. It’s not as much sadness as it is a general numbness. In short, you just stop caring. About everything. You withdraw from people. You don’t do the things you used to enjoy or, if you do, you don’t enjoy them as much or at all. And that makes you dislike yourself even more.

Here’s an interesting article on how people hide depression, which explains things better than I seem to be doing.

Don’t feel bad if you never noticed. I’ve struggled with depression off and on for so long that I’ve learned to cope rather well. I’ve become an expert when it comes to hiding the issue from everyone else. I am a master of disguise.

Sometimes it is triggered by a specific event — death of a loved one, fight with a spouse, argument with a friend, etc. — and/or resolves itself pretty quickly. Other times, the bad spells come on slowly, over an extended period. They can last longer, too. Much longer, especially if unrecognized/undiagnosed.

Depression is not always the result of a specific incident, though. It really is just a chemical imbalance in the brain that more often than not worsens slowly, like an all-encompassing, pervasive, shroud of darkness. It’s sneaky, too. Which is why I didn’t recognize it for what it was until November! (Looking back, I can see it’s been going on for at least a year, maybe longer, and that sort of pisses me off.)

Fortunately, it’s only been really bad on a few occasions, requiring antidepressant medication to correct the chemical imbalance in my brain.

How do you tell someone you’re depressed without sounding like a whiner? Especially when you are already in a mental fog, with little desire to even bother speaking to anyone else much less trying to explain how you feel. How you can feel so bad when you look fine? When there’s nothing really tangible to be “sad” about. When nothing obvious or explainable has happened to trigger it? Why tell someone you know won’t understand where you barely have enough energy for the admission, and won’t be able to explain, which will literally make you feel even worse?

The mind really can be a crazy place.

Recognizing — finally!!! — what has been going on was actually a relief. I’m not a terrible person after all. The screwed up chemical stew in my brain is just making me think I’m terrible.

Luckily, meds seem to work for me. But it takes time. Assuming you get the right medication and/or the correct dosage strength, it could be 4-6 weeks until you start feeling normal again. Usually it takes a bit longer.

I am starting to feel a little better.

I didn’t write this to worry people. Or to make it a topic of general conversation. I guess I thought it might help explain why I don’t read everyone’s blogs as often as I used to. Why I don’t call people. Why I’ve been going to greater than usual lengths to avoid crowds. Why I really don’t leave the house much. Heck, I don’t even send text messages or e-mails as often as I used to. I don’t keep up with Facebook. Getting out of the house to walk the dogs every night has even become a regular mental wrestling match. I don’t do much of anything, really. Motivation is really, really scarce.

I can’t really even think about Christmas. I have barely done any shopping. Hubby dragged the decorations out of the basement and was even going to do all of the decorating himself, which he hates, but I managed to get that done at least.

I could say he guilted me into it, but he didn’t. Having stuff in all the wrong places would have been worse than having no decorations at all. LOL.

I HAVE managed to watch nine-and-a-half whole seasons of NYPD Blue over the last two months, though. (Did I mention that I don’t sleep much?) My mind wanders more easily when I am reading. Watching TV seems to quiet those demons in my head more effectively. You know, those demons that tell me I’m a loser, worthless, ugly, a horrible mother, a lousy friend, stupid, a terrible daughter, forgetful, fat, uninteresting, etc., etc., etc.

There really is a monster or monsters in my head. But I think he/they have finally been caged. I believe I’m on the mend. I guess we’ll have to wait and see…

December 2, 2015

A Different World

VAMap-doton-Abingdon — The red dot on the map shows Abingdon’s location.

Over the past ten months as I’ve explored the far reaches of Virginia, I’ve been amazed and entertained by the diversity of this state. It’s a different world. Really.

I’m not just talking about geography either, which is the most obvious difference, but the attitudes, characteristics, and particularly the speech of the people.

Different languages, accents, and speech patterns have always intrigued me. I think because my Dad’s family, most of whom stayed in and around Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, talked differently than we did (I grew up in Baltimore, Maryland). Dad’s brother, Jay, settled in the mountains of Western, Pennsylvania. His wife and kids had an accent and used words even stranger-sounding to me than the Lancaster folks.

I always tell people that the farther south in Virginia you get, the thicker the accents. That’s true, but, as it turns out, it’s not as much southern Virginia where the accents are thickest, but the western and southwestern parts of the state. A bit of digging this morning explained why. Those regions of Virginia are part of Appalachia, as is the part of Pennsylvania where Uncle Jay and his family lived.

Even though I’m aware of the differences, it still catches me off guard at times. It’s not as much the words they use, but how they say them that gets me. Like this past Friday when Hubby and I were in Abingdon, Virginia and went to the Huddle House for breakfast.

Hubby’s Bacon and Cheese Omelet with Grits and Toast

Huddle House is a lot like the Waffle House, but better, in my opinion. Less of a greasy spoon.

My Two Eggs Over Medium with Bacon, Hash Browns, and Biscuit

As I was placing my order, I could have sworn the waitress asked if I’d like water with my toast.

“Um, what?” I said to her. It was a less-than-poised reply, I know, but it was early.

When she repeated herself more slowly, I heard “watt er whit toast.” It wasn’t until she she added, “er a biscuit” that I understood she was saying “white or wheat toast.”

It reminded me of the toothless old man I’d encountered earlier in the year when I was even deeper into the mountains very close to Tennessee and had stopped at a Hardee’s for lunch. He talked to me for what felt like about five minutes before I could understand a word he was saying. For real. And I was listening very closely.

Here’s a bit of info on Appalachian English if you’re interested. If you’ve never experienced speaking with someone from that area, listen to the video embedded. The guy who shows up at the 3:43 mark sounds a lot like my toothless friend, as does the guy at the end. Except the men in the video were both easier to understand.

Different isn’t a bad thing. I really enjoy the friendliness of the people and slower pace of life in the Appalachian Region. And even if I can’t always understand what the people are saying, I sorta like listening to them talk. And I can’t help but wonder what I sound like to them.

Any of you ever encounter speakers of US English in the south or in the Appalachian mountains you had a hard time understanding?

December 1, 2015December 1, 2015

Burke’s Garden

Hubby and I ended up in the coolest place while looking for the LOVEwork listed as being in Tazewell, which is really in Burke’s Garden, about 15 miles east of Tazewell.

The Garden, as residents call it, isn’t just a town, it’s a mountain valley (the highest mountain valley in Virginia at about 3,000 feet or 915 m above sea level) surrounded by one very large mountain. How does a valley get surrounded by one mountain? According to geologists, the mountain, mostly composed of limestone with a sandstone cap, was once 6,500 feet (1,981 m) tall. Over time, the center of the sandstone cap eroded, exposing the softer, underlying limestone to the weather. Then, as the limestone eroded, the mountain basically collapsed. The softer rock formed the valley, while the edges of the cap formed ridges.

It doesn’t sound like a huge deal until you see it from above, as shown in this aerial photo from Lost World Ranch (located in Burke’s Garden, the ranch raises Bactrian Camels and Llamas). The ranch has an interesting history piece on the Garden if you’re interested.

There’s also a good article from Virginia Living on Burke’s Garden, which reads…

…Burke’s Garden is a beautiful land that, to a certain degree, time forgot. The place is completely off the grid of modern life: There is no newspaper delivery in the town, and no cable television; no stoplights and no working post office. And no cell phone service. Many of the residents are retired, a few of them farm, and lots drive out to work in nearby towns, constantly challenged by often-sketchy road conditions leading in and out of Burke’s Garden.

Not only did they have my new favorite LOVEwork, there were also quite a few barn quilts, interesting road signs, and plenty of beautiful scenery.

Here are my favorite captures from the Garden.

This building reportedly serves as the unofficial post office.

The Most-interesting Wayfinding Signs Ever (there were several)

We happened upon that little gal, who didn’t want to give up the road. We followed her slowly as she trotted along, finally exiting to the left after rounding that far bend in the background.

View from the southern end of Burke’s Garden.

When I mapped the route, which Hubby later put into his GPS, I had intended for us to enter the valley from the north and exit on a very curvy road to the south. The GPS software apparently didn’t like that idea, and made us turn left, looping around the Burke’s Garden valley instead. It was a lucky detour that gave us the opportunity to see more of the lovely place. But I wanted to take the curvy route out of the valley.

Burke’s Garden isn’t an easy place to reach. The route into the valley from the north is the only paved road. Hubby had apparently had the mapping software set to avoid gravel roads when he entered the route.

Google Maps doesn’t like the curvy gravel road either. It wanted to send me along the loop shown.

The GPS didn't like the curvy road! — The GPS didn’t like the curvy road!

VA-623 heading into the valley from the north.

VA-623 exiting the valley from the southern end.

Yes, the road was as narrow, steep, and curvy as it looks.

Look at all the Rhododendron! — Look at all the rhododendron!

Hubby and I were divided on whether or not we’d want to revisit the road in the Spring. I’d love to see the rhododendron in bloom, but that’s definitely NOT a road for his big Victory. There are quite a few very tight turns and even a few hairpins, all very narrow.

If any of you would like to visit Burke’s Garden, I recommend driving in from the north. The southern portion can be treacherous during Winter, with icy patches lingering into late Spring. Followed by mud. It took us about an hour to cover the 10 or so miles (~16 km) of gravel road, not because conditions were bad, but because we were enjoying the scenery. 🙂

It’s definitely a nice place to visit and is well worth the trip if you like pretty scenery. And especially if you like barn quilts.

November 28, 2015November 28, 2015

Not-so-traditional Thanksgiving

K and Belle (L-R) — The Girls (L-R), K and Belle

I hope you folks in the US enjoyed your Thanksgiving. Ours was interesting.

As I mentioned the other day, we didn’t have any meal plans for turkey day. A couple of weeks ago, when I was cataloging VA LOVEworks I still needed to capture, I mentioned planning a trip in the car, since Winter is approaching. Hubby said he’d go along, so I suggested doing it on Thanksgiving.

Hubby started a diet recently, and I knew we wouldn’t be preparing a traditional meal for the two of us. So I figured a road trip would be better than sitting around the house.

Not only did Hubby go along, we took the furkids, too. That’s something we rarely do. In fact, we’ve never spent the night in a hotel with these two. K is a good car rider. Belle doesn’t like car rides. Neither of them gets carsick, thank goodness, but Belle does a lot of panting unless we’re on an interstate or other smooth, fast-moving road. I was a bit worried that they’d be a real nuisance, but they actually did good on the ride.

I’d planned on capturing seven of the large LOVEworks and one smaller one, which I knew to be indoors. I also included two roadside oddities, which I knew wouldn’t be enjoyed by all participants. But, since both were in areas we’d be passing through anyway, I included them.

Traveling in a clockwise direction, our first stop was in Lynchburg. Wait, I mean our first planned stop was in Lynchburg, we first had to stop at Wal-Mart to buy a dog leash. We’d forgotten to grab the leashes before leaving home and could only find one in the car.

My Traveling Companions at the Lynchburg LOVEwork

Mike, being a good sport, tried to get both of the girls to look at me for a pic. I took about ten shots before giving up.

Also in Lynchburg, within sight of the LOVEwork, were “the red high-heeled shoes of a giantess,” as described on RoadsideAmerica.com.

Giant Red Shoes along the Lynchburg Waterfront

Not knowing when, if ever, I’d get back to Lynchburg, I wanted to see the shoes. There were other oddities, like an enema collection, large metal water pitcher, and Easter Island head, but I didn’t want to push it.

From there, we headed south and west toward Lambsburg. The LOVEwork is actually located at the Virginia Welcome Center along the northbound side of I-77, so we dipped down into North Carolina then headed north on the interstate.

The weather was warm — mid-60s F / about 18 C — dry, and partly cloudy, which made for some interesting skies.

That’s my favorite LOVE image from the trip. The light was perfect and there was a break in the clouds.

From there, we headed west toward Abingdon, where we’d reserved a hotel room for the night. A good bit of the Lambsburg-to-Abingdon leg was along The Crooked Road Trail (a portion of US-58), which goes past Grayson Highlands State Park, a place I’d been wanting to visit. I’d read there was a pretty good view from the park. As it turns out, the Internet was right.

I’d hoped to see downtown Abingdon’s Main Street at night, but Hubby was tired after those 380 miles in the car. The girls needed some people time, too. So, we got a mediocre-to-crappy meal at Cracker Barrel, which was right next to the hotel, then hunkered down for the night. (By sheer coincidence, Abingdon was almost exactly the halfway point of our journey.)

After a yummy breakfast, we were off.

I’d stopped in Abingdon in July, but the sculpture had been damaged during a storm and removed for repair, so I missed it. I’m glad I got the chance to go back. Not capturing the Abingdon piece wouldn’t have been a huge deal, but it’s a pretty town in a very nice area.

We also stopped at Holston Mountain Artisans, a craft co-op which has an indoor LOVEwork I’d hoped to see. They have a barn quilt on the outside of their building, so I actually got a chance to see a full-size barn quilt up close for the first time. (The standard side on a big barn is 8′ by 8′ (about 2.5 x 2.5 meters) square.

Holston Mountain Artisans' Barn Quilt — Holston Mountain Artisans’ Barn Quilt

Hubby actually discovered a second, smaller barn quilt behind the building, which I’ll share later. Sadly, the shop didn’t open for another hour or so and we had a lot of ground to cover, so off we went.

Dricing northeast toward Tazewell — Driving northeast toward Tazewell

I forgot to mention earlier that it was a very pretty day for a drive.

The next planned stop was Tazewell, where we’d capture the piece I was most excited about seeing.

I couldn’t resist stopping to see the barn quilts on this not-yet-open arts center. Speaking of barn quilts… wanna know why I was so excited about seeing the Tazewell piece, which was also added very recently?

It is a barn quilt LOVEwork! I’m not doing a barn quilt scavenger hunt, I just really enjoy seeing them.

That piece is in a really, really cool location, too, which I’ll tell you about in a separate post.

Not all LOVEworks have to be standalone art works. The Blacksburg piece is a very nicely done mural.

We also revisited neighboring Christiansburg to capture a pic of the piece we’d ridden past in July because it was rush hour and too dang hot to stop.

Again, not seeing it wouldn’t have been a big deal. There are no hard and fast rules to this self-imposed scavenger hunt, but since we were in the area, we stopped.

We were supposed to see a seventh LOVEwork. Unfortunately, I’d failed to notice that the LOVEwork at the Silver Hearth Lodge, which was one of the more-recent additions to the growing list of sites, is on private property and you’re supposed to make a appointment to see the thing. We took our chances and drove up to the lodge anyway, but didn’t see the LOVEwork.

I don’t think pieces should be included on the official/master list of LOVEworks unless they are publicly accessible around the clock. I can’t be the only person to have driven to see a specific piece only to be thwarted because a piece was behind closed gates and/or doors.

The next-to-last planned stop for the day was a must-see for me. I missed it the first time I visited Roanoke.

I had planned the route, but Hubby was in charge of entering it into the GPS. His label for the next stop should tell you how unexcited he was about that one.

I was excited, but the girls were ambivalent.

I should have made the girls get out of the car, but sunset was fast approaching and I wanted Hubby to see downtown Roanoke. As it turns out, he wasn’t impressed.

Looking west from Roanoke, just before sunset.

That was the end of day two. Not counting the uneventful drive home from Roanoke. I think it was just before 8:00 p.m. when we got back to Warrenton. The girls were especially excited to be back home. We were, too.

Now, if I could just muster up an iota of Christmas spirit, I might get something done today.

November 25, 2015

Surprise Delivery & Thanks

Is there anything as fun as getting an unexpected package in the mail? It’s extra cool when there’s something uniquely “you” inside.

Last Friday, I received that kind of package. It totally made my day. And I still smile when I think about the Staples (office supply store) box that so completely masked what was inside.

What was it? Shoes! Not just any shoes…

Genuine leather frog shoes! How cool is that?

They’re very me, right?

Unfortunately, they’re a bit small for my feet. I might be able to find a way to stretch them, we’ll have to see.

They’re actually from a dear lady who worked with Mike (aka Hubby) for many years. I knew there just had to be a story behind those shoes, and I was right. Here’s what she said when I asked…

My dear sister is always going outside the box when searching for presents. This one hit the jackpot, but I could not bring myself to venture out! You kept popping into my head, with your love of frogs. Enjoy them, laugh at them, or start a new story. They really are out there!

I was so touched that she thought of me. Thanks, Bridget! You’re awesome!

You know who else is awesome? You! My loyal followers.

It’s Thanksgiving Eve as I write this. Thanksgiving isn’t just about eating lots of food, it’s about being thankful, too. So I want to let you all know that I’m thankful for each and every one of you. Thanks for showing an interest in the pictures and stories I share. It means a lot to me. Really.

I hope you all have a fabulous Thanksgiving. And for those of you outside the US, I hope you have a wonderful weekend.

Thanks again!

November 23, 2015

Sidetracked

Have you ever been chewing on a kernel of an idea for a post, which needed just the right image then, while searching for said image, gotten completely sidetracked by the search results?

That’s what happened to me this morning. I was all set to tell you about this different sort of plan I have for our Thanksgiving, the US holiday happening this Thursday. It’s a rare four-day weekend for us, so I figured we should make it interesting.

Our parents have other plans. Two of our three kids are on the West Coast. Kid number three works in a restaurant, so I assumed he’d be working, but he’s actually going to spend the day with his wife’s family. We could invite friends over, or go out and share a meal, but most of our friends have families of their own or, I assume, plans with others.

So I decided we should do something we’d never done before. Which I was going to tell you about in that post. So I went to Google Images and searched for something like “turkey car thanksgiving” and got completely sidetracked.

I must say, there’s a lot of weird stuff on the Internet, in case you didn’t know that already. It can be quite entertaining, nostalgic, appalling, perplexing, and more.

The images that I enjoyed most were the vintage postcards. I mean, I like postcards in general, but vintage postcards can be rather unique. They were so entertaining, I figured sharing some of the gems I discovered would entertain you all more than some boring “guess what we’re going to do on Thanksgiving” sort of story.

NOTE: None of these images are mine. I searched the Internet, saved them, and re-posted them here. I usually check image licenses, you know, to see if it’s okay to share them, but I didn’t this time. So share at your own risk. And, if you don’t hear from me for a while, I may be in a jail with no Wifi.

15271838324_6169cc663a_o — Thanksgiving in Britain?

There’s my turkey in a car. But it’s a British car. I think. Did cars in the US ever have steering wheels on the left? Brits only recently started acknowledging Thanksgiving, supposedly because so many Americans are now in the UK, not because the Brits themselves find the need to celebrate.

OldDesignShop_ThanksgivingTurkeyPC — Generic Thanksgiving Greeting

Honestly, I never knew Thanksgiving was an occasion to send postcards. Or greeting cards, even, which I guess these could also be.

Maybe there was once a tradition to race cars on Thanksgiving? Before the whole American football and Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade thing began.

Is there some tradition I don’t know about with corn cars and orange-slice wheels? And why is this image also British? I suppose the steering wheel could be in the middle, but Tom is clearly driving. How can I be so sure? This is a vintage card, remember. They’d never let a female turkey actually drive the corn car back then.

af10ec7b6c6a15846ae52bec5eea4cad — God Bless America

I wonder what message that card is supposed to be sending? Maybe it was created during a time of war and folks were supposed to send this image of a pretty lady, clearly American, accompanied by a turkey couple to a soldier fighting abroad. To remind them of home.

4857144474_d0bfa33b9d — What’s more joyful than a kid driving a turkey and load of produce around?

Kids in vintage images like these creep me out. There’s almost always something wrong or at least a bit off about their faces. That face isn’t horrible, though.

vintage-thanksgiving-turkey-pumpkin-postcard — Deception

Here’s a pretty gal who dressed her young turkey friend up all nice and pretty, with a lovely pink ribbon to pull the pumpkin wagon. Maybe in a parade? But, behind her friend’s back, the gal is prepared to stab and eat said clueless friend. What kind of message is that?

il_340x270.640905354_ce0v — Ummm… I’m at a complete loss.

Put all care away? Looks to me like this is more about hiding your true self. You know, so your family thinks you are well and normal.

Or maybe the artist’s kid dressed as a turkey for Halloween. The artist wanted to share the drawing with friends and family, procrastinated, so made it a Thanksgiving card to mask his tardiness.

thanksgivingcardgfairy002b — I bet this was very risque, dark humor for its time.

It probably wasn’t polite to even refer to the turkey actually getting having to get murdered so people can enjoy the traditional meal.

I’m guessing this next one is another war-time greeting.

vintage-thanksgiving-postcard-16 — We bow to thee, oh Turkey God.

How odd.

vintage-thanksgiving-boy-riding-turkey-with-american-flag1 — Speaking of odd…

Because it’s tradition to dress kids up like jesters (or small clowns?), sit them on a wheeled pumpkin, and have Tom turkey take the kid for a ride. The flag was added just to make sure folks knew this was an American card. You know, because people is so many other countries would do this sort of thing, too.

That’s a really small image, but I HAD to share it anyway. Maybe it was once part of the holiday tradition for kids to befriend and cavort with Tom Turkey before he was beheaded, plucked, stuffed, and cooked? Rural kids, of course. Stuff like that would never fly in a city.

Maybe that’s why there’s an annual Presidential turkey pardon? As the American population became more and more concentrated in cities, the pre-Thanksgiving turkey-trot deception became less and less popular…

vintage.thanksgiving.day.card.03 — Coming Out?

Is that supposed to convey having fun on Thanksgiving? Or perhaps indicate that the sender had enjoyed a well-dressed turkey?

This next one really made me chuckle. The turkey looks well and alive, but the child looks like she’s been stuffed, dressed, then laid-out on a decorative platter.

butterfly-thanksgiving-clip-art-images-free-thanksgiving-old-design-shop-blog-pictures — Who ate who?

The last one is my favorite.

thanksgiving-clip-art-greeting-jpg — Telling It Like It Is

No subterfuge there. No making the turkeys look like anything but the murdered, dead turkeys that they are. Surrounded by some vegetables, a big bundle of Popsicle sticks, wine, and a big fish. On a desk by the rocky coast, just like the Pilgrims would have done. How festive.

I hope your Thanksgiving is as interesting, straightforward, adventurous, different, fun, and love-filled as I hope mine will be. Even if you can’t be with family or friends, I hope you are able to find a way to surround yourself with love, good times, and good cheer on this thankful day.