Road Trip

The big thing on Facebook last week was how many states have you been to.  I didn't take the quiz because I know right off the bat.  45.  Montana, Idaho, Oregon, Hawaii and North Dakota.  I don't really care if I don't make it to the last one unless there is a woodchipper involved.  But right now, I'm sitting in a Super 8 in York with the volleyball team.  On the way out here I heard some comments from the back of my van about seeing a super rest stop.  Apparently, one of these kids has never seen a rest stop with a restaurant.  Really?  I might understand going 16 years if you lived somewhere without a toll road, but the PA Turnpike is only 7 miles from this kids house.  The Oakmont plaza is right there.
I remember hearing of something called and "Oasis" that my brother spoke of when he traveled west.  That's where they built a rest stop between the 2 lanes and people traveling in both directions can enjoy the same stop.  Then when I saw it, I thought it was pretty cool.  I was 14 and in Illinois.
While driving today, I thought about not only how many states I've been in but also, how many I've driven to or from Pittsburgh.  (The Pens just tied the game at 2)  Of those 45 states that I've been to, I have driven to or from (I once flew to Phoenix to help my brother move back) all but California, Nevada, Washington and Utah. On separate occasions, I've driven to the Tex/Mex border, Maine, Wyoming, Colorado, Florida, Oklahoma and driven back from Arizona.  (Pens go up 3-2)
I've seen some pretty cool things.  Today I got to see the York barbell company with plaster weightlifter on a spinning pillar.  If you've been on one of these road trips with me, if I know of a big landmark coming up, I'll usually offer ice cream to the first person to see it. (ask anyone about Mt. Rushmore and Devil's Tower.  I always win.)  Probably my favorite thing to see is the Gateway Arch.  When I was 4 and on my first trip to Nebraska, we stopped in St. Louis, rode the craziest elevator I've ever seen.  Then when we went on some military ship in the Mississippi at the base.  I sat at one of the guns, looked up an saw a structure fire across the river.  Guess what I thought I did.
All that to say, I love road trips.  I am driving home from Florida next month, driving round trip to New Hampshire this summer, and another road trip to Michigan.

Messed Up Breakfast.

Remember that guy at the mall, next to that other guy at the mall who sold those awesome rubber band guns that sold donuts from a popcorn machine?  No?  He was between what is now one of those stores that I have no idea how to get in, but I know I don't want to go in because the perfume that they spray in the (what I perceive to be the entrance) makes me sneeze and the pond with the gigantic fish that looks like they have been there since before Christ.  We made those donuts this morning.

Last weekend we laid (or is it lied? that doesn't sound right) in bed until about 8:30 when we got a hankering for breakfast.  Carrie came up with the idea that I should go out to the bakery and get pczackis as it was the last day they were available at the Oakmont Bakery until after Christmas.  I, however wasn't really into that idea as I knew that it was a bakery the day before a holiday.  She and I talked a bit about who would have the children and we decided that the five of us would load up in White Light and head down to the bakery.  As we crossed Washington Ave on Allegheny Ave, we saw that there were loads of cars parked along both sides of the road, an obvious sign that the bakery was not a place that I would not want to visit at that time.  As we drove through the parking lot, Carrie saw the inside of the building and realized it would take 45 minutes for our little number to be called, so we went to McDonalds instead.

All of that to say, this week we planned ahead for Saturday breakfast and bought Pillsbury Grands at the store this week.  Apparently the Robinsons did this many times when Carrie was growing up.  You heat some vegetable oil, cut out the middle of the biscuit with the vegetable oil lid and fry away.  Toss in a bag of cinnamon and sugar and you get a cinnamon and sugar donut.

Today I experimented.  We like the Pittsburgh cream donuts the best.  So we left some biscuits whole, without a hole, fried them and filled them with a vanilla cream.  (I've always wondered how they do that.  It's not too hard.  Just insert the icing nozzle and fill.  It will make it's own space.  Not very impressive.)  Well there is a reason you cut out the middle with the vegetable oil lid.  Inside the crispy shell and around the creamy middle was a gooey, doughy flavor that ruined the donut.  Good thing we didn't assume this would work.  Apparently those bakers know what they're doing.  I'm not asking for help on making this donuts a reality, as I have more ideas as to how to cook them completely.  I'm just informing the 3 of you that read this, leave the donut filling to those who know more than me.

Nameless

The Hendricksons outside their nameless house

With all of the downtime Carrie has had lately, she has quickly run through all of her Netflix queue.  She has watched  4 seasons of "Say Yes To The Dress," seven Ryan Reynolds movies and every cooking show that Netflix and Hulu have provided her.  Recently she stumbled upon a show that we've heard people talk about but I have been reluctant to watch due to my hatred of anything English that might remind me of the Jane Austen "__________&____________" books.  Now that I think of it, I wonder if the Farrely Brothers were trying to piggyback of the fame of the Austen books?
But I decided that I would try out Downton Abbey, as I have heard that people that I trust have enjoyed it.  It is watchable, maybe even enjoyable.  But it got me thinking.  Why haven't we named our home?  Is it because it only has 7 rooms and a basement?  Is it because I had to buy the house myself, instead of inheriting it?

The Flowering Snow Cherry Tree

A house with a name screams "class."  Fallingwater, Buckingham Palace, Graceland, Neverland...

"White Light" the 2010 Grand Caravan

I love naming things.  When I got my first car at 18 years old, I named it "Little Joey."  Why?  Because I truly believed that "We'll make it to California someday."  My first born got her name because Carrie and I loved to ski.  When we got addicted to social media, we gave our children the pseudonyms "Little, Middle and Boy." I named my Toyota "Stewart," but the name never stuck.  My children have named vans, "Stormy" the old van, and "White Light," the newer.  So why haven't we named our house yet?

The Grand Entrance complete with butt tons of shoes and jackets

Think of it, when we invite our friends over, we could say wonderful phrases like "Will you be joining us for dinner at ____________?"  "You simply must see _____________'s new vegetable garden."  When the children grow up, they can confuse their friends by referring to their home as if it were a person that raised them.  There's all kinds of benefits.
So here's the question, what will we name our house?  Will you consider naming yours, so that when we say we're coming over, we won't say that we are going to (let's say) the Balkey's, but instead, "we are going to Boardroom?"  <-- pretty sure that should be a question mark and not a period, please comment on your interpretation.

Dress Codes

This morning we woke up, looked at the weather and realized it was cold with the possibilty of 70 later.  So we dressed accordingly.  Little has a pair of Keens. As we walked out the door, it was evident that the sun had not yet heated the earth enough for such footwear.  I mean, I had my Chacos on, but I could man up.  However, she is neither a man, or an adult, so she couldn't even "woman up."  I asked her if she wanted to go get socks on.  Her initial response was, "no."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." So we continued up the hill.  "Dad, I said yes."
"Right, we're going."
"No, that means I want socks." Communicating with a five year old can be so frustrating.
So we walked back to the house.  I rifled through the dropped socks that were left at the door.  There were 4 pair, 3 of them did not match.  The 4th did.  Not quite sure why the unmatching socks were put together, but this is the way we live.
We all have standards.  We all have dress codes.  I am no different.  You may doubt that I choose my clothing, but I do have a standard, "wear it until it smells."  I also have a standard for footwear.  It is one that many I know have employed.  "You don't wear socks with sandals."  However, Little's Keens, are not quite sandals.  They are a hybrid.  Keen has even invented a word.  "Hybrid.ology."  So the question is, did I allow my daughter to go out dressed inappropriately?  It also reminds me of some of the funny Biblical standards that God set for us in Leviticus 19:19.  Did God really not want hybrids so that I wouldn't have to deal with such questions?