The Wheels on the Bus

Even though I am quite well-traveled, I had never taken a bus trip before. You see, Lyle had traveled across the country to college, from California to Indiana, back in the 1980s and he said it wouldn't be safe for a woman to travel that way for a long distance. He's always been willing to drive me anywhere I have wanted to go, and on the few occasions when it wasn't possible for him to go, I've just flown. However, this past weekend I finally got to experience a bus trip!

It came about this way: A few weeks ago at the Christian Heritage homeschool conference I was visiting with Susan Marlow, author of the Circle C Adventure books, about the writing process. She told me about the Northwest Christian Writers Association conference that was coming up in 3 weeks and invited me to stay with her and attend the conference.

Lyle immediately agreed that I should go. (Because, of course, my schedule is not full enough this month. I needed one more thing on the calendar! Seriously, it was just too good an opportunity to pass up.) However, he said I could not drive the little old car we recently bought because he's just not sure how reliable it is. He was willing for me to drive the pick-up, but I wasn't so willing. A full-sized pick-up in Seattle traffic? No, thank you! So I began to explore other options. I discovered that a bus ticket to Seattle was only $78 round trip, and for one person that was cheaper than driving. I remembered what Lyle had said about safety, though, so I asked what he thought about that. Since it was such a short trip and in daylight hours, he decided it would be fine.

And it was. But, oh, my. The experience!

When Lyle dropped me off at the Spokane bus station I had to stand in line to get my printed ticket and have my bag tagged. Then I went to wait for the bus and watch the people. I had taken along a book to read, and a Sudoku book, and my crocheting, but I didn't need any of that. Just watching and listening to the people was entertainment enough.

There was the little old lady who kept fluttering about like a bird trying to find out why the bus was running late and when it would get there. I was amazed at the casual security in the bus station. She just left her bags and baggage sitting in a pile while she fluttered downstairs and back up and all around.

Then there was the portly gentleman who was loudly describing his business in great detail to anyone who paid him the slightest attention. He gets a pay raise every month, and they just place their orders right online. They have several divisions, one of which is cleaning products. Uh-huh. I know an Amway spiel when I hear one. I didn't make eye contact.

Next on our cast of characters was the bride on her way to her own wedding. She was concerned that the bus was running late because she didn't want to be late. She was pretty sure they wouldn't start without her, but still... The Amway salesman was trying to convince her that she and her new husband should go into his line of work. At one point, she politely excused herself to go to the restroom and when she came back, the Amway guy gleefully announced that he had a wedding present for her! It turned out to be a lighter (with his logo on it, I have no doubt).

About that time, one of the bus station employees propped the door open. Miss Flutter-by came flapping over to me. "Oh! Something's happening! The bus must be coming!" She was right. It was. So we all lined up to board.

The bus was pretty full, so I took a seat beside Miss Flutter-by, fulling expecting her to chatter to me all the way, but figuring that was better than Mr. Amway or some of the other seedier-looking characters. Much to my amazement everyone was quiet most of the way to Seattle. I had noticed that phenomenon on flights before, but didn't expect it on the bus. We stopped twice between Spokane and Seattle, and people did chat a little more while we were stopped. As we came into the city conversation picked up a little, and I discovered that my seatmate had hearing aids that she had turned down because of the highway noise. So that explained why she didn't talk as we traveled.

The bus was dingy and smelly. The seats were comfortable enough, but primarily I enjoyed the experience of it, rather than the pleasantness of it. I was slightly dreading the trip back home again on Sunday.

I was to change buses in Seattle and go on another 45 minutes to Tacoma, which is closer to where Susan lives. I was a little concerned about making my connection since the bus was running late. As soon as we arrived, I asked at the counter about the bus to Tacoma and was told it would be departing in 30 minutes. Another passenger from my bus was ahead of me at the counter to make the same inquiry. I was interested to notice that his "luggage" consisted of a black garbage bag. He plopped his garbage bag at the head of the line at the indicated door, and I lined up immediately behind it. I wasn't about to leave my baggage unattended, and the bus station was kinda creepy, so I decided I could wait about going to the restroom.

When the Tacoma bus came, since I was at the head of the line, I was able to get a good seat and didn't end up having a seatmate. Mr. Garbage Bag had not returned, so I just pushed his "luggage" out of the way with my foot when it was time to board. I wondered what would become of his bag. The bus was loaded and the doors were closed when he came hurrying out to board with his garbage bag in one hand and a pizza in the other. Apparently, he had gone out to get some supper.

The ride to Tacoma was relatively short and uneventful, except for the strange guy who came staggering up from the back of the bus about halfway there, and sat down right behind the driver. I wondered what led him to change seats at that time. As I watched him out the corner of my eye, I noticed he was making odd gestures with his hands. At first I thought it might be sign language, but the longer I watched, the more I was convinced that it was just random gestures. He did that for awhile, then stopped for a few minutes, then started up again. Pretty soon he got up and went towards the back of the bus again. I have no idea what that was all about.

I was very happy to see Susan waiting for me on the sidewalk when the bus pulled into Tacoma. I laughed as I got off the bus. "I'm pretty sure one of the characters in my novel will have to take a Greyhound bus trip," I said. "This was research!"

This post is way too long, and I'm out of time for this morning, so I'll have to tell you about the conference and my return trip in another post. Anybody else ever travel by bus?

Sue Ellen's Girl - Review

"Where are you from?" he asked as he scanned my groceries at the local WalMart.
"Why, I live here in Post Falls," I answered innocently, even though I knew what he was getting at. In spite of having lived in Idaho for 13 years, and Kansas for 12+ years before that, people seem to think I still have a southern accent. I don't hear it myself.

"No, I mean, where are you from originally?" See? I knew that's what he meant.

"Oh! You mean my accent? It's mostly from Louisiana and Arkansas." I never know what to say since I lived in several different states growing up, due to Dad being a pastor and changing churches every few years.

"I thought so!" he said smugly. "Did you eat a lot of barbecue growing up?" Now, that one, I admit, caught me off guard. I had never been asked that before.

"Um. No. Not really. Why?" Beans-and-cornbread was on our menu far more often than barbecue.

"Oh, I had a mission in North Carolina and it seemed like they had a lot of barbecue in that part of the country. And people would tell you 'God bless' and things like that way more than they do around here. People get offended if you do that here."

"That's true," I allowed. "We're definitely not in the Bible Belt."

He finished bagging my groceries and said, "Have a nice day!"

"You, too!" I told him. "And God bless!"

"Definitely!" he said.

***

Several years ago I subscribed to an e-zine called All Things Southern which was  published by a very funny "southern belle" named Shellie Rushing Tomlinson. She would get why the above scenario (which happens more frequently than I would expect) strikes my funny-bone. Recently, when her new book Sue Ellen's Girl Ain't Fat, She Just Weighs Heavy came up for review I was happy to have the opportunity to read it. It's supposedly a self-help book, but Shellie admits that it's actually "short on the self-help, and long on the commiseration." My favorite chapter was the one on "Bubba Whispering" (i.e. understanding and relating to your man). I can't say I actually learned anything from it, but I sure did laugh! And I had to read certain sections out loud to my own "Bubba-wannabe" who loves being married to a "southern belle" but isn't always sure what to think of me!

Other chapters cover health and fitness, how to tell the difference between "normal crazy" and "straight running crazy," time management, manners, and even politics and economics! In addition there are dozens of wonderful southern recipes. There's one for Bodacious Black Bean Salad that I bookmarked to try soon. This is just an all-around fun book!

Spring Floods

Due to the warm temperatures and rain we've had lately, the snow in the mountains is melting quickly and the Coeur d'Alene River has passed flood stage. Yesterday evening we decided to go on a little family drive to see it.

 

This section of the river is a popular swimming hole in the summer time. It's hard to imagine it being so crystal clear that you can see the rocks on the bottom.

 In the market for an RV site? I know where you could probably get one cheap. 'Course your RV would need to be a boat... but still!

I wonder if the water will be over this bridge before it crests? Probably not... but it sure will be close!

I loved the way the clouds looked against the mountains in the sunset light of this shot of the I-90 bridge. In spite of the high water, I enjoyed seeing the delicate spring greens throughout the forest. Such a beautiful time of year!

Goosey Goosey Gander

Mother Goose (No, not that Mother Goose! This is a different Mother Goose!) and her four little goslings were having a lovely time paddling around the pond at our local park. They were so happy to be reunited, as Mother Goose and one of the goslings had just returned from the other side of the dam. The three goslings who had been left behind had been crying piteously for mama, but she soon had all of her babies safely within reach and all calmed down.

Becky has been accumulating bread crusts in a bag in the freezer all winter just for the purpose of feeding the ducks and geese at the park this spring. Mother Goose and her little ones were happy to be the recipients of such bounty and eagerly came closer to shore (but not too close) to scoop up the tidbits Becky tossed into the water.

Such generosity did not go unnoticed by a neighboring family of geese. The New family on the scene was made up of a mother and a father plus six babies. (Which made us wonder where the father of the First family was... or maybe that was actually Father Goose rather than Mother Goose in the First family? Gender differences in Canadian Geese are rather subtle. At least to me! I doubt they are to the geese. I understand they mate for life and the father helps take care of the young--which is as it ought to be, don't you think?)

The New family decided that the First family had had enough of the bread crumbs, so they tried to chase them away. One of the New parents actually dunked one of the poor babies from the First family all the way under the water. When the baby didn't pop right back up we were a little concerned. A few seconds later, though, the little feller popped out of the water way across the pond. Mother Goose hurriedly paddled off to his rescue, leaving her other three babies behind to paddle around with their cousins.

Now there were nine apparently identical goslings splashing around in a group overseen by the New mother and father. How they could tell which children were theirs and which belonged to the First Mother Goose was more than I could figure out, so I found it amazing to watch one of the New parents herding two of the babies away from the group and over towards Mother Goose and the chastised little one. But the New family still had an extra one, by my count. Would they notice? Sure enough, they did. Pretty soon they guided the last little stray back to Mother.

We were fascinated.

Not Interested

Dear Young Peddler,
Whatever it is you're selling door-to-door in my neighborhood, I'm not interested. Also, you should know, just because my garage door is open and you can see me working in the backyard does not mean you should holler at me to try to get me to buy whatever-it-is-you're-selling. I'm busy. I am not interested in stopping my work to listen to your spiel. No, thank you.

I realize you haven't even had a chance to tell me what it is. Pointing that out to me at the top of your lungs so that I can hear you clear in the backyard through the garage is not going to make me more inclined to stop what I'm doing to listen to you. Unless maybe you think I'll lay down my pruning shears and take off my gloves and come out just so you'll stop shouting at me. Did you think that would increase your chances of a sale? It won't. So please. Just move along.

Thank you!

The Lady of the House