ramblings from an arkansas farm girl
Greetings from Iceland! In two days we’ve already seen so much it’s difficult for me to get my thoughts down on paper (or onto my blog). We flew into Reykjavik (Dallas to Boston to Reykjavik) which made for a long day of travel. We checked into our hotel around two a.m. Since it was still light outside, it didn’t feel so late. Plus, it was only nine p.m. according to our internal clocks.Continue Reading
Did I mention I’m going to Iceland? Pinch me, I am! And I should be packing for Iceland because my trip is SOON. But somehow I’ve become this person who puts off packing until the last possible minute. I wait and wait and instead of just doing it, I spend effort calculating how much time I can delay said packing with the same precision my son once calculated the minimum grade he could score on a calculus test yet still get a B in said class.
Yeah.
And now instead of packing, I’m writing about packing.
My suitcase is in the bedroom. That’s something. Like when the airplane reaches the gate but no one is allowed to board yet. Everyone stands and fidgets and stares at the plane through the terminal window wondering when it last had an oil change, relieved it at least arrived on time. When the announcement comes, passengers towing overfilled suitcases slip past harried gate attendants and hoist these whale-like bodybags into cramped overhead space. I attempt to spot who among them might go postal at thirty thousand feet. Because that seems to be a new thing.Continue Reading
I was never much of a math person (sorry Mrs. Meadows, Mr. Mason, Mr. Howard, Bob Irby), yet I do respect the truth of the straight line. Yes, I know the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. But straight lines can be boring. And sometimes the shortest distance doesn’t interest me. Most times, I prefer the more entertaining journey offered by the curved line.
I’m easily entertained.
Point A to Point B nearly always takes me longer than GPS estimates, because GPS has no reasoning skills. We have a sort of love-hate relationship, GPS and me. He can’t see detours into the woods marked by faded hand-lettered signs. He doesn’t notice cows posing roadside waiting to have their picture taken. He can’t feel the tug of history represented by a graveyard or roadside historical marker.
Yes, GPS is a man who never stops for lookout points or wildflowers growing in clumps at abandoned homesites.
His is an obtuse world of right angles painted pitch black or bright white. Right, left, yes, no. Loops exist as u-turns. Mistakes. And even as long as we’ve been together, GPS still doesn’t recognize my craving for the side trip.
Recently I took one such side trip to Dogbranch School (Carroll County, Arkansas). I’d been tempted to veer onto this gravel road before. I pass it each time I drive to Eureka Springs or Mountain Home.Continue Reading
