09-25-2013, 10:11 AM
My theory of car travel is the sooner I start, the sooner I can stop. Stops are to be few and short. I usually stop once, just long enough to gas up. My mother as has been previously explained has gall bladder problems which necessitates frequent halts. My father takes a pill called Lasix which promotes trips to the urinal. I knew this when I offered to ferry them back and forth to their Serra conference in Los Angeles. Although my heart sank a little when my father did say he sometimes had to go every fifteen minutes. He was going to deal with the problem by bringing along his trucker's friend.
We are at the Casa de Fruta and my mom spots the sign that says 'Renaissance Faire this weekend'. It has been many years since I last attended the Faire and wasn't even on the radar of things I would possibly want to attend. The idea of driving my car into an area where potentially thousands of Faire goers were milling about sent shivers down my spine. Fortunately, that wasn't happening until the weekend. I could skip it.
"Greg, oh look. they are having the Renaissance Faire this weekend", said my mother, " We should go".
Um, no. Not a chance. End of story.
My father helped by saying haven't you been before?
"That was twenty years ago"
Still no.
We are at the now infamous Iron Skillet. I decided to make a few ground rules about where we are going to be stopping since it is shaping up to be a heavy flow day. We actually stopped about thirty minutes later because my mother had to go again. I tell them I would like to stop at Santa Nella, which is on the central valley side of Pacheco Pass as opposed to Casa de Fruta which had to be packed with oddly dressed denizens.
"Couldn't we go to the Casa de Fruta and see the Faire", my mother asks.
"No, that would be crazy", I say.
"Well, since you are the driver, we'll do what you want".
"We could just check" says my father.
Whose side are you on?
I eventually get them to agree to the Santa Nella stop.
But I feel bad. They both seem to want to go to Casa de Fruta. The place has some magical power that draws them in.
"Okay, we'll see how crowded Casa de Fruta is. If it isn't crowded, we'll stop"
On the approach to Casa de Fruta, but still about two miles from the actual stand and restaurant, I see acres and acres of parked cars. They have obviously staged the Faire far enough away that it's traffic won't interfere with the restaurant. Whew, there is a bullet dodged. I point out the cars to my Dad. He gives a low whistle at the amount of cars.
My mom asks where is the Faire? I tell her we passed it and there were thousands of cars. End of discussion.
We sit in our booth and while we are waiting my mom says "I wonder if I have time to walk down to the Faire?"
What? My mom can't walk. She has needed knee surgery for the last ten years but refuses to get it because she fears never waking up from the anesthesia, something that happened to a relative when she was a child. On all our trips, I have to park at the front door of every place we are going so the distance she has to travel is very small. Now, she is suggesting walking to the Faire. And then once at the Faire walking around at the Faire.
"Audry, you can't walk" says my Father.
We eat up. Afterwards, my father waits to pay the check while I take my mother to the car.
"Greg, while we wait for your father, could we drive to the Faire" I hear from the back seat.
"There are thousands of people there. I'm not going. Plus, it's close enough to the house, come back on your own"
Grumble. Grumble.
As we drive away, my mother gives out one more shot to get us to go down the road to the Faire.
No.
We are at the Casa de Fruta and my mom spots the sign that says 'Renaissance Faire this weekend'. It has been many years since I last attended the Faire and wasn't even on the radar of things I would possibly want to attend. The idea of driving my car into an area where potentially thousands of Faire goers were milling about sent shivers down my spine. Fortunately, that wasn't happening until the weekend. I could skip it.
"Greg, oh look. they are having the Renaissance Faire this weekend", said my mother, " We should go".
Um, no. Not a chance. End of story.
My father helped by saying haven't you been before?
"That was twenty years ago"
Still no.
We are at the now infamous Iron Skillet. I decided to make a few ground rules about where we are going to be stopping since it is shaping up to be a heavy flow day. We actually stopped about thirty minutes later because my mother had to go again. I tell them I would like to stop at Santa Nella, which is on the central valley side of Pacheco Pass as opposed to Casa de Fruta which had to be packed with oddly dressed denizens.
"Couldn't we go to the Casa de Fruta and see the Faire", my mother asks.
"No, that would be crazy", I say.
"Well, since you are the driver, we'll do what you want".
"We could just check" says my father.
Whose side are you on?
I eventually get them to agree to the Santa Nella stop.
But I feel bad. They both seem to want to go to Casa de Fruta. The place has some magical power that draws them in.
"Okay, we'll see how crowded Casa de Fruta is. If it isn't crowded, we'll stop"
On the approach to Casa de Fruta, but still about two miles from the actual stand and restaurant, I see acres and acres of parked cars. They have obviously staged the Faire far enough away that it's traffic won't interfere with the restaurant. Whew, there is a bullet dodged. I point out the cars to my Dad. He gives a low whistle at the amount of cars.
My mom asks where is the Faire? I tell her we passed it and there were thousands of cars. End of discussion.
We sit in our booth and while we are waiting my mom says "I wonder if I have time to walk down to the Faire?"
What? My mom can't walk. She has needed knee surgery for the last ten years but refuses to get it because she fears never waking up from the anesthesia, something that happened to a relative when she was a child. On all our trips, I have to park at the front door of every place we are going so the distance she has to travel is very small. Now, she is suggesting walking to the Faire. And then once at the Faire walking around at the Faire.
"Audry, you can't walk" says my Father.
We eat up. Afterwards, my father waits to pay the check while I take my mother to the car.
"Greg, while we wait for your father, could we drive to the Faire" I hear from the back seat.
"There are thousands of people there. I'm not going. Plus, it's close enough to the house, come back on your own"
Grumble. Grumble.
As we drive away, my mother gives out one more shot to get us to go down the road to the Faire.
No.
So much for the flickr badge idea. Dammit
