It's really hard to summarize oneself for the general public. I mean, really, what does the public want to know about me? Am I married? Yes. Do I have children. Yes, three, and they're all grown thank God. (By that I mean parenting is HARD. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, but I'm really glad our offspring have all reached adulthood.) Do I have pets? Yup. Two dogs. Since the kids are all grown, you'll read more about my dogs than my kids. Because that's what happens when you get old like me. I have three grand kids, too, so you'll read about them as well. But the dogs live with me and, when I am desperate for blog topics, they usually help me out.
Quite a few years ago, my friend Carol gave me The Elf on the Shelf. Our youngest was already a teenager, but I suppose she thought it would be fun for the grand kids. Or maybe, MAYBE, she just loved the Christmas Elves of our childhood and thought I should have one.
In the 60s and 70s, every house had an elf amongst the Christmas decorations, right?
We had two, I think. My brother might say there were three. No matter the number, I always loved those elves.
My friend Janet, who owns The Empty Nest, recently acquired a bunch of vintage elves. She said that someone asked how the elves can be vintage when they were made in Japan. Because everyone knows that vintage = antique and all antiques were made in America. Right?
Anyway, today, on my way to dinner, I took a few of those elves off of Janet’s hands.
They’re silly things, really, but they made me smile. And that felt good. Smiles have been a bit rare around here lately.
Once I started smiling, I sorta got carried away. What better way to kill time waiting for food than playing with my new-to-me elves?
And since nearby diners seemed to enjoy my elves’ antics, I thought you might, too.
Menu Help
“I Love Beer!” says the elf.
“Hmmm, isn’t a Cosmo more sophisticated?”
“Tastes more sophisticated.”
This particular Elf thinks beer is better.
He was also very happy with dessert.
VERY happy with dessert.
So happy, he fainted.
A not to be named member of the Warrenton Town Council was a bit perplexed by the elves’ antics.
But I bet even she would agree that The Elf on the Shelf has nothing on these old guys.
It was terribly hard. But it was finally time to let the old girl go.
The image at left was shared here before, in a post from July 2013, where I said, “Meg’s health is slowly failing. She’s deaf, has arthritis, some strange problem with her biliary tract, which we keep under control with a strict low-fat diet, and her muscles are weakening. She could be with us for years still. Or something catastrophic could happen and take her sooner. I hate to think of that day.”
I’m actually quite surprised that she was able to stay with us as long as she did. Her health really has been declining slowly over the last few years. She’s had a couple of really close calls, the most recent few episodes involved her biliary tract, and were sort of like pancreatitis, which is very painful and life-threatening.
After the last episode late last year, we resigned ourselves to the fact that Meg was getting old. We told each other that, as long as she was relatively pain-free and enjoying life, she would stay with us.
I guess it was earlier this year that she really started losing muscle tone and weight. It became harder and harder for her to navigate the steps. And she was getting slower and slower on our daily walks. I guess it was a month or so ago when I decided she was too slow to walk with the younguns, so I did two dog walks each evening.
Meg hated being left behind, but she enjoyed her solo walks with me. I let her go at her own pace and sniff stuff for much longer than I would’ve if the younguns were with us.
I always told myself that when her bad moments outweighed the good, it would be time to let her go.
Earlier this week, the scales started tipping for her. There’s a cold front coming through and I think it really affected her. She was sleeping even more than usual, seemed much weaker, and had even more difficulty than usual on the steps.
It really became clear yesterday. I was in the front yard with her, waiting for her to poo. She found a spot, squatted on her weak, wobbly legs, and pooed. I could tell she hadn’t quite finished, but her legs gave out on her and she collapsed onto the pile she’d just made. I hurried over and helped her up. Then I had to clean a matted pile of poo off of her rear-end and tail. She was not pleased.
I couldn’t get her to stay inside, though. So we went back out into the yard. She just stood there, all wobbly-like, looking really pathetic.
I had my phone in my pocket and took this short video so you can see what I mean.
She was weak. And she looked frightened. That special light had gone from her eyes.
That’s when I knew.
I dreaded walk time. I couldn’t bear making the decision for her, so I hooked her up as usual and told her, “This is your last walk, Meg. Let’s make it a good one.”
Much to my surprise, she wanted to walk. And there was more pep in her step than there’d been in days. She was sniffing everything. Even more than usual. And every now and then she’d just stop and look around.
She was tired, but moving well and did not want to turn around until she was ready.
I’m glad there weren’t many people out and about to see me sobbing along beside my sweet, old girl.
She had an even more restless night than usual. And this morning, I could tell she was very uncomfortable. As much as I would’ve liked to deny it, I knew it was really time.
So we took her to the vet and stayed by her side as she crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
She was a special dog. Stubborn as all get-out, even to the very end. She never stopped eating. She never stopped looking forward to her special treats. And she especially never stopped wanting to be with her people.
We will always remember Meg for the laughter she brought into our lives. And for her absolute, unabashed joy that was so obvious when she was running, something she hadn’t been able to do for quite some time.
Here’s a pic from April 2006. She was young (not quite 7) and her face was still orange.
She always liked to make a game of running at me at fast as she could and racing by. I called it Buzzing Mama.
I imagine Meg is buzzing around at the Rainbow Bridge right now. With CeCe, our first dog, at her side.
Those of you who follow my blog and read the comments may have noticed an absence over the last couple of months. Since mid-August to be exact.
That’s when my moto-blog buddy and his wife, Yvonne, set off for a trip-of-a-lifetime.
Yvonne and Bob
In addition to two motorcycles, he also has a Corvette. He and some Corvette buddies had their cars shipped from Vancouver to Harrisburg, PA. They flew to Harrisburg for some sightseeing, then drove down to Bowling Green, Kentucky, to visit the National Corvette Museum and see where his car was born. He was very excited about the trip and even took his SPOT along (see the track here) so his followers would know where he was.
Being a devoted blogger, he posted almost daily. But he was having Internet connectivity issues, one of the issues being not wanting to pay the exorbitant connectivity fees charged by the higher-end hotels.
Saturday, August 30, Bob posted about their visit to Diamond Caverns in Kentucky, saying the next day they were headed to Tennessee. Days went by with no posts, so, like many others, I figured Bob was still having connectivity woes.
It wasn’t until September 15 when I got a text from another moto-blogging buddy, Trobairitz, that I learned Bob had passed away in his sleep on September 1 in Nashville.
Just like that, Bob was gone.
I never met Bob in person. I followed his blog, and he followed mine. We also exchanged a number of e-mails over the years, and actually came close to meeting twice. Most recently, when he and Yvonne were in Harrisburg. We’d hoped to rendezvous at Roots Market on August 19, which is very close to my Dad’s house. That date stands out in my memory because it was the second anniversary of my Mom’s passing, and I figured Dad would also enjoy a day out. Unfortunately, due to pressing work deadlines, it didn’t happen.
I sent Bob an e-mail to let him know, and he replied with this.
Bob’s passing surprised a lot of folks. He was very active and well-known throughout the moto-blogging community.
A number of his friends have posted tributes, which are cataloged here. (This post by Sonja is one of my favorites.)
I haven’t read all of them, but will one day. That’s not something I can sit and read at one time. It’s just too sad.
I’m glad Bob and Yvonne got to share that last, epic trip together. He’d been so looking forward to that vacation with his beloved Mrs. Skoot…
In an interesting turn of events, some of Bob’s friends have decided to keep Bob’s blog live as a tribute to him. There’s a little wooden scooter, dubbed ScooterBob, that will be traveling the world with Bob’s moto-blogging pals, seeing the world as Bob wanted to see it, with the many people he’d befriended, both in the flesh and virtually, along the way.
I think it’s a fitting tribute, and I look forward to the time when ScooterBob will travel with me.
Life is short. And fleeting. I may not get to meet Bob here on Earth, but am hopeful that one day our time really will come.
I’m a bit behind on my posts about the Europe trip. While this one is sort of about the trip, it’s more about a delicious dinner idea you simply must try. Our Swiss friends, Tammi and Martin, fed it to us for dinner one night during our recent trip while we were visiting their home.
I knew immediately that I HAD to try it here at home. The only question was, would we be able to find the right cheese, or a suitable replacement.
Here’s a group pic from our visit…
L-R, Martin, Tammi,Annelies, Me, Mike (aka Hubby), Yves, Timo, and Heather
I have the coolest friends. Really. I love these folks.
Anyway, back to dinner. It was called Raclette. It’s pronounced like rock-let. Essentially it’s melted cheese and stuff served over boiled potatoes. Not just any cheese, Raclette cheese. It’s actually a type of cheese, suitable for melting. Martin and Tammi thought maybe Gruyere might be a good substitute. Or any similar cheese that melts well.
Everyone figured it was probably available on-line. It is. It’s actually available through Amazon. But when I was searching, I found The Swiss Bakery, which sells on-line, but also happens to be sorta close to here.
Anyone who likes and buys good cheese knows, cheese ain’t cheap. Gruyere, which I tried first, is $20-$25 per pound at our local supermarket. The Raclette sold by The Swiss Bakery is “only” $17 per pound. And two people can easily eat half a pound of the stuff.
There are different tools you can use to melt the cheese. I’ve been planning to get a table-top raclette grill, AFTER I was sure I could get the cheese.
Since I had no plans for yesterday, and it was too cold and windy for a motorcycle ride (in my opinion), I drove my car to The Swiss Bakery for cheese.
Wanna guess what we had for dinner? LOL. It was darn good, too.
Here are some pics from that first dinner Martin and Tammi served.
Martin & Tammi’s Raclette Set-up
There were eight of us, so they actually had two grills.
Raclette in Switzerland
Raclette on my plate.
It was fabulous, really.
Raclette is traditionally served with cornichons (fancy, itty-bitty dill pickles) and cocktail onions, and accompanied by white wine. Apparently — according to Martin who is a chef and knows these things — the cornichons, onions, and wine all work together to help digest the cheese.
And that’s important. Simply put, picture eating a plateful of hot, melted cheese followed by a cold glass of water. The water would turn that cheese into a giant lump of goo in your gullet.
You start with boiled potatoes. You chop them up on your plate as your cheese melts, adding butter or not, depending on what you feel like. Raclette is also served with toppings, a lot like pizza toppings, that you can add to your cheese as it is melting. Diced bacon, dried beef, sliced grape tomatoes, olives, chopped leeks, diced onions, pepperoni, etc. Once the cheese is melted, you scrape it off of the little melting-tray onto your potatoes and voila, a nice little plate of deliciousness, prepared by you exactly to your liking.
Mike, Heather, and Me
Raclette grill in use.
For yesterday’s Raclette test here at home, I just put a cast iron frying pan under the broiler. Once it was hot, I removed it from the oven, laid the cheese, in 1/4″ slices, into the pan, added some diced green onions and dried beef, and then put it back under the broiler. By the time I’d put the boiled potatoes onto our plates, cut them up, and added butter, the cheese was ready. It melts well, so that part goes really fast.
Of course, I basically had a giant pan of melted cheese to portion out evenly between two plates, which is harder than having your own little Raclette tray, but I managed.
Here’s what my improvised Raclette looked like…
Improvised Raclette
I served it in a pie plate to make it easier to eat in front of the TV. A regular plate would have been fine had we been dining at the table.
I wanted to get some air-dried Swiss beef — bundnerfleisch — but that’s hard to find locally, so I settled for Bresaola, which I found at Wegman’s. You could also use American dried beef, but the American version is much saltier. And drier. Prosciutto would work, too. So would pepperoni.
I’d really like to find some Speck (an Italian bacon from the South Tyrol region of Italy, which is rubbed with a mix of salt, pepper, juniper berries, other garden herbs, then dry cured, lightly cold smoked over beechwood chips, then stacked in aging cellars, where it is slow dried). Speck is similar to Prosciutto, but I think it’s better.
You can read a bit more about Raclette here, if you like.
Guess what I did before writing this post?
Raclette Grill
I ordered that Raclette grill I’ve been wanting. LOL.
You should try Raclette for yourself. But remember, the cheese is important. While the experiment with Gruyere was tasty, it wasn’t nearly as good. The Raclette is just a bit more-flavorful. Although boiled potatoes covered with melted Gruyere was far from the worst thing I’ve ever eaten, and I would eat it again in a pinch. But, if you REALLY like cheese and want to enjoy a more-authentic Raclete experience, buy some Raclette cheese. It’s worth it.
My friend, Dottie, who just got her motorcycle license earlier this year, has been itching to go for a ride with me. Since my usual riding partner was otherwise engaged with chores, Sunday seemed like a good day to do just that.
Why not take her along on Saturday? Not only did she have other plans, she hasn’t been riding for long, tires easily, and is quite sensitive to cold. So I knew the trek I had in mind on Saturday might just do her in.
Sunday’s weather wasn’t nearly as nice as it was on Saturday. Mainly because it was really windy. But it was still pretty.
I thought the temperature was just right, but Dottie was freezing. She still hasn’t figured out her proper gear combination. It takes experience for a person to know what to wear in different conditions to keep oneself comfortable. But she toughed it out, and we had a pleasant day.
When it came time to plan the route, I figured I’d take her outside of her usual riding zone and head over into West Virginia. I hadn’t been over there on my bike since early May. And even that was just a brief visit. I miss my old haunts.
We didn’t go far into West Virginia, but I did enjoy seeing that little corner of the George Washington National Forest again. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Wardensville, West Virginia was our first stop.
Star Mercantile
There’s a funky little country restaurant there — the Star Mercantile — that I like and thought Dottie might enjoy.
It’s cute, kitschy, and their food is decent. The waitress can be sorta grumpy, but that’s part of the charm.
I was excited to see some new artsy additions in town. Like this giant rooster, across the street from the restaurant.
Giant Rooster
And this interesting “mural” a couple blocks west of the Star Mercantile. Upon closer inspection, I was delighted to see it was made out of old bottle-caps.
Bottle-cap Art
I didn’t know what the heck it was supposed to be — honestly, I thought from afar that it was a pig — but found out later from Dottie’s daughter, Ashley, that it mimics The Son of Man, a famous Rene Magritte painting.
Wardensville getting artsy? Huh.
After a nice, long lunch so Dottie could warm up, we ventured into the George Washington National Forest via Trout Run Road.
Trout Pond
We stopped for a quick peek at Trout Pond, which was still a bit colorful.
And then we continued through the forest. My memory isn’t as good as I thought. We did a bit of circling before we finally made it to Wolf Gap. But at least they were scenic circles.
Near Lost River, West Virginia
Near Lost River, West Virginia
Near Lost River, West Virginia
Dottie didn’t enjoy the forest roads nearly as much as I did. They are narrow, have no shoulders or no shoulders (drop-offs), were a bit covered with fallen leaves, and the bright sun through the trees made it hard to see.
Wolf Gap
In addition to being where the West Virginia/Virginia borders meet, there’s an overlook, which I have never visited, where you can see a mountain named Big Schloss.
After that, we headed home.
I did stop outside of Flint Hill, VA, on Ben Venue Road, to capture this image of the old slave quarters, rare because they are made of brick.
Former slave quarters on Ben Venue Road.
What felt like a brief ride to me — I logged 175-miles — may have been Dottie’s first 200+-mile day. She lives about 20 miles from me and we met at my house, so she covered a few more miles than I did.
It was nice being back in West Virginia, but it has left me itching for more. Hopefully, Hubby and I will get a chance to head out that way before winter really settles in. Fingers crossed…
This past weekend I was supposed to go to the beach with my girlfriend, Diana, for a three-day weekend. But work has been a bit crazy, and I couldn’t get off early on Friday, which would have meant for a very late arrival. Since she had to be home relatively early on Sunday, it would have made for a severely compacted weekend. And we only get together once a year. So we decided to re-schedule for mid-November.
That husband of mine had already made plans to work in his sorely neglected workshop. Which meant I had a completely free weekend.
You know what they say, when life gives you apples, make apple cider. Or something like that…
Anyhoo, a couple of weeks ago, I plotted a route for a motorcycle ride that looped south and west through Virginia. My mapping software said it would take about eight hours, not including stops. That really means about 10 hours, since you all know I like to stop.
Temps were a bit colder the weekend we’d been considering that route, so we decided to put it on hold until a later, more temperate date.
Having suddenly found myself with nothing else to do this past weekend — yay, me! — I figured Saturday was as good a day as any to do that ride. Especially since temps were forecast to be in the upper 60s/low 70s and the foliage was looking quite nice. I did shorten the route a bit, though, by opting for the most-direct route to my first stop, the Bold Rock Cidery in Nellysford, Virginia.
Bold Rock Ride Overview Map
Don’t worry, I wasn’t going there for samples, I’d just always wanted to see the place because I knew it was in what appeared to be a pretty location.
I was right. It was gorgeous.
Maple Trees Across from Cidery’s Parking Lot
To-go Bottle
Bold Rock Cidery Collage (click for bigger view)
Apparently Rockfish Valley Highway is where all the cool brewers/wineries are located. In addition to Bold Rock, there were several smaller establishments I’d never heard of along with the Starr Hill Brewery and Devil’s Backbone Brewing Company.
Alas, I wasn’t there to visit a bunch of breweries, I was there to ride. And that’s what I did.
From the cidery, I continued south on VA-151, which itself was a beautiful road, and then headed east on Jonesboro Road, CR-666, to VA-56, Crabtree Falls Highway. As it turns out, there’s actually a waterfall — Crabtree Falls — along that road, which follows the Tye River through the George Washington National Forest, so it’s sorta heavily traveled. Um, keep in mind “heavy” is a completely relative term when you’re riding in rural areas. Unfortunately there was lots of loose gravel. Even a special warning sign for motorcyclists. But that was okay, I wanted to take my time and enjoy the lovely mountainous, many-hued, forested scenery anyway.
I wasn’t dressed for hiking, so I rode right on past the jam-packed falls trailhead parking lot. I did stop a bit later, however, to snag a few pics.
Looking East on VA-56
Many trees were past peak color, but there was still lots to see.
Looking west on VA-56, a road I MUST revisit.
I think I was still southeast of Vesuvius, VA at that point (how’s that for a town name?), but I’m not sure. I do believe it was still VA-56, though.
As I rested for a bit (and took pictures) a group of about 20 Porsches zoomed past, followed a few minutes later, by a smaller group of Mazda Miatas. I guess it really is a popular road, and for good reason.
Sorry to brag, but I have to say, I know how to pick good motorcycle roads. Another splendid stretch was VA-39. The following pics were captured near Goshen Pass, southeast of the town of Goshen, VA.
Fun Road
Lovely Scenery
The Maury River
I couldn’t linger long. But I will definitely visit that spot again one day.
From there, I continued west on VA-39 to CR-678, Indian Draft Road. That’s what it was called at the southern end anyway. County roads like that tend to change names, and sometimes even numbers, when they cross county lines or other major landmarks. It makes wayfinding a bit more challenging, but that’s all part of the adventure.
I think CR-678 was the best road yet as far as scenery goes. It was stunning. It ran along the Cowpasture River for a ways and then, at some point, it became Bullpasture River Road. Perhaps near Williamsville, which is where the Cowpasture River forked off to the right. Then the road ran alongside the Bullpasture River for a time.
I literally laughed out loud when I saw the sign proclaiming that I was on Bullpasture River Road. And I said to myself, “Next sign you see, you’ve got to stop for a pic.”
In a very weird twist of fate, this is the next sign I saw…
Bullpasture River Road and Fuzzys Path
What are the odds that the very next signpost would be at the intersection with Fuzzys Path? I knew my pal, Rachael (FuzzyGalore), would get a kick out of that one.
I LOVED that road. Really. It’s my favorite kind of road (what I call a putt-putt road). It winds through a beautiful valley dotted with farms and flanked by mountains. All 27+ miles of CR-678 were pure ToadMama heaven.
I’ll share more pics after I’ve gone through them. Here are a few for now to tantalize your virtual ride-along imagination.
Toward the southern end when it was still Indian Draft Road.
Slow and steady was the perfect pace for this narrow, winding path.
For the record, “slow” was about 45 m.p.h. This isn’t the sort of road on which you want to be zipping along, carving turns. County roads aren’t always equipped with warning signs, so you need to be a bit cautious as the sharp curves can really sneak up on you. Trust me on that one, okay?
Along Bullpasture River Road
Cows along Bullpasture River Road.
Pretty church and barn near the northern end of Bullpasture River Road.
Quilt barn near the northern end of Bullpasture River Road.
It was starting to get late and I was still several hours from home, so I had to get rolling. Lucky for me US-250, the Highland Turnpike, was next. It’s a fast, super-sweet section of changing-elevation twisties that are to be savored. Quickly. I did say “fast,” right? LOL.
Check the road out with Google Street View. It is NOT a putt-putt road.
Lucky for me, US-250 runs through the national forest, so I got to stop at Fort Edward Johnson for a potty break. The fabulous road continued…
Looking west from the parking lot at Fort Edward Johnson.
The light was fading fast, so off I went again.
After that, I only stopped one time somewhere along VA-42 south of Harrisonburg to check my text messages (Hubby checking in)…
See my shadow in the middle of the frame?
…and then I stopped in Luray for a very quick dinner. I took my good ole time crossing Thornton Gap in the cold darkness — sharp, descending-radius curves — and made it home right around 8:00 p.m., a mere 318 miles and roughly 10 hours since leaving the house that morning.
It was such an amazing day.
It’s been a long time since I’ve set off on a long, solo adventure like that. Some people think I am bold and/or brave for doing trips like that alone. I don’t agree. I think I’m normal. Relatively speaking again.
I can’t imagine NOT wanting to go for rides like that, alone or otherwise. There’s so much more of Virginia and the surrounding states that I/we still have yet to see.
I’m already looking forward to the next long, exploratory journey.
This morning we said our final goodbyes to Meg.
I’m actually quite surprised that she was able to stay with us as long as she did. Her health really has been declining slowly over the last few years. She’s had a couple of really close calls, the most recent few episodes involved her biliary tract, and were sort of like pancreatitis, which is very painful and life-threatening.
