Vacation turns into Staycation

Four sisters try to take a "Sisters" week annually

                After too much rain and with more predicted, both here and in route, the planned sisters’ trip to Willis, TX, in a condo on Lake Conroe, two of the four of us—one the condo owner—decided against taking the risk of getting into rising water on the way down.

                Since we live within twenty miles of each other, and since the host has a home with three bedrooms, she invited us to “shelter” with her in Little Rock, then fan out from there on three days of flea-marketing forays. One sister had to be at choir rehearsal on Wednesday night, so our staycation would last from Sunday through Wednesday morning.

                I begged a ride with another Benton sister. When she came to pick me up, we stowed my food, a box of legacy trinkets I wanted them to go through, and she said, “Where are your clothes?”

                “We’re coming back tonight,” I said. “Barb didn’t say anything about staying Sunday night.”          “Well, that’s what she meant,” Carolyn said.

                So, I rushed inside, picked up a small, soft-sided Samsonite piece, which usually holds shoes, fan, heating pad and cosmetic bag. I stuffed two tops, two pairs of jeans, underwear, jewelry already out from the day before, nightwear, make-up pouch, toothbrush/paste, meds, and chargers.

                I’d already put extra food in the cat dish and more water in the bowl. The litter box was clean, the plants were watered, the appointments were re-scheduled, the mail hold cancelled. I guess I could manage for three days.

                We arrived mid-morning Sunday, had brunch, drove to South Main Street where our brother-in-law has a booth in an antique shop. We lucked out—Cliff was there. Was he excited when we all four rounded the corner, smiled and waved!

                I bought a silver bracelet with a purple stone, and a used book of selected poems by Federico Garcia Lorca (published in 1955) with Spanish on the left page; English on the right.

                The next stop was a “junk” shop in Hillcrest. Surely nothing in Hillcrest is junk! Although one sniffed at the place, the others of us were impressed.

A movie was on the suggested activities for Sunday, but we decided to drive a few blocks to Bev’s home and watch “La La Land” for free. The last movie I’d seen was “Sleepless in Seattle” at Dot’s home a couple of weeks earlier.

                Monday’s itinerary included multiple flea markets in Cabot and Beebe. My BFF Dot came to see us when her workday ended. She’d met the other sisters at my 80^th birthday party but hadn’t seen them since.

                 We ended the day at Holiday Inn Express in Searcy. Dinner was at the Rock House.

                Tuesday morning, we found a couple of places to visit in Searcy, then one more in both Cabot and Beebe. Rain was on its way, so we hurried home. That night, we watched a tape of the ending ceremonies of the Olympics, then the Arkansas-Auburn basketball game, all the while continuing our cut-throat game of Phase 10.

                Wednesday morning after breakfast, we packed up, straightened our rooms and, again, before the rain, left for our respective homes. The rain caught up with us, but it wasn’t so hard we couldn’t deposit my boxes and sacks of goodies—blue glass pieces, a pear candleholder, a Haeger pot, 4 silver (looking) candlesticks for the mantel—on the porch.

                Grandson Billy, sole occupant at Couchwood for three days, not knowing when I would return, had locked the screen door! Thank goodness, he was getting ready for work and heard my desperate phone call. “Sorry,” he said. But he was only being safe.

                That afternoon, I took a three-and-one-half hour nap.

c 2018 PL, dba lovepat press, Benton AR

Off my bucket list--trip to Hot Springs Village

At my advancing age, I hate to admit to any kind of mis-hearing, mis-understanding or forgetfulness, because folks (including myself) might think I was on the edge of dementia. But I’ve discovered that younger people have memory issues, too.

In late June, a sister from Virginia reserved a condo for a week in Hot Springs Village. We other sisters who lived as close as Benton and Little Rock, were asked to spend a day or two with Barb before the big family reunion over the July 4 weekend.

Since I travel to Hot Springs about every Monday to a writers’ group, I decided to go visit Sis while I was that close to The Village. I had directions from Malvern Avenue to Highway 7. Barb had sent directions to the condo, either from the East gate or the West gate.

After the meeting which ended at 12:30, off I went, down Malvern to Grand Avenue, across it till I came to the intersection with Central. I knew my way to Hwy 7 from there. What I failed to realize (and herein lay the problem) was that Hwy. 7 made a sharp turn north, but in my searching for the HSV sign, I missed the Hwy. 7 sign. Soon, I was on Hwy. 5 headed to the East gate and, eventually, home. But I wasn’t going home.

OK, no need to panic. The East gate was ahead of me. I drove and drove and drove. Then I saw a green sign, “Balboa Gate, 2 miles.” Whew! I knew that was also an entry into the largest gated community in the U.S. But there were a lot of other things I didn’t know.

Driving in behind two vehicles that were entering the gate, I noticed both drivers held a card out to a meter and the gate obediently opened. OMGosh! I didn’t have a card! But as I pulled up, a miracle happened: the gate opened!

Another “whew!” and a whispered “thank-you-Lord,” and I relaxed and began reading my directions—which, unbeknownst to me—were of no avail. But I followed them till I got to a place where I had to turn right or left––a dilemma, because it wasn’t in the directions. No signage, either, at the intersection of Andorra and Desoto.

I pulled into the parking lot of a Lutheran church and called Barb. Carolyn was already at the Los Lagos condo, so between the two of them—one holding the phone and the other reading a map––and me driving with one hand t an ear and one hand on the steering wheel in those unfamiliar, mountainous, curvy roads, I finally made it—an hour after I’d left the Garland County library.

They had waited lunch, so we had a light repast of tuna salad, tomatoes and crackers. Plus, big laughs at my recounting of travel travails. A swim—in the Adults Only pool––then a stint in the hot tub refreshed us, since the heat of early summer was already upon the land.

That night, Barb opened a new box of Mexican Train dominoes, which we all three learned to play.  Carolyn lost and I won!!