Mother's Day travelin'

One must be on some sort of street provided "medications" to schedule one's self the way Erin and I have scheduled ourselves over the past few weeks. I told her yesterday that I was having trouble relaxing, and I've BEEN having trouble relaxing since trip number one to Mexico several weeks ago.

Since then, we've had trip number two to Mexico, prom, and a trip to Madison (the eventual subject of this ramble). We still have a trip to Key West and a trip to California to go before this idiocy ends. At some point, I need a real vacation that doesn't involve anyone but Erin, Grant, and anyone with a liquor license.

This weekend, we went to Madison, Indiana with Erin's folks for our annual trek to the Madison In Bloom festival. We dearly love Madison, and strolling around for an afternoon in spring is always a nice diversion. We always have lunch at The Downtowner, and then we wander around to the various houses, occasionally pocketing a trinket or two from the particularly nice backyards.

Things this year started a little rocky. The first house wasn't very stirring, so we moved on to house number two, which turned out to be an Episcopalean church. Not wishing to be struck by lightning, I didn't pocket anything, but apparently the damage had already been done, because a bird pooped on me about five minutes after we arrived. As someone not fond of being shat or spat upon (is anyone really?), I spent a good while bathing in the sink inside the church fellowship hall.

For whatever reason, the gardens this year just weren't doing it for us, although it was still nice to wander around, and the people were, as always, exceedingly friendly. Erin had a pounding headache, so we bailed early and went to Scottsburg, Indiana and used some Holiday Inn points from my stays in China to stay at the Holiday Inn Express.

We took the opportunity to let Grant swim in the pool, which he has done in the past. This time he seemed somewhat leary of the whole thing. I didn't understand why until my eyes began to burn and several of my toes dissolved. I am of the opinion that the Holiday Inn pool maintenance might be a little suspect.

For dinner, we drove up to The Pines. We had driven past this place a multitude of times, and I had regailed Erin with stories of eating there with my grandparents as a child. I hadn't been there in years, and I warned her that we shouldn't go there necessarily for the food, but more for the experience.

The Pines is housed in a metal pole barn, and the inside is outfitted like a mortuary. It's very odd. Nobody under 80 apparently eats there, and there is some suspicion that perhaps these individuals are confused and merely think they're saving themselves some extra legwork by checking themselves into a mortuary, a reasonable theory proposed by my uncle. There are trellises everywhere, a gazebo, and green grasses painted on the walls. The staff is all dressed in tuxes, a feature of many of these types of restaurants in Indiana. It's as though they're serving in a five star restaurant in their mind's eye. In any case, the food was fine, and Grant took the opportunity to throw a large quantity of pudding around the room.

On Sunday we drove up to Bedford to be with my grandmother and mother on Mother's Day. We took a scenic route in an effort to allow Grant to take a nap on the way into town, and it turned out to be quite beautiful. If you're ever in the neighborhood, the county roads between Little York and Plattsburg, Indiana make for a wonderful drive through the woods, providing ample opportunities to witness river folk, a favorite of Erin's. About a half hour into the drive, Erin noted that every house featured exposed insulation on one portion or another. She was, indeed, correct.

We came home last night exhausted, but looking forward to my cousin's wedding coming up in a couple of weeks. Despite the presence of a shifty uncle or two, it will be a nice opportunity to hang out at the beach and consume whatever is available.