Foolish Mansion

by Mary Frances

Rushville, IN – We returned from our trip with great satisfaction….happy to be home and happy to have made the trip. I just read today in Parade that the greatest joy derived from a trip occurs two months prior to taking it. The anticipation is the best part. Alternatively, according to this article, returning home leaves you no happier than when you left.
I have to say that our experience of the bicycle trip was the opposite of that predicted in the article. Two months before leaving on the trip I was a nervous wreck. Each week, as it got closer, I was filled with more and more doubts.
Going to Mexico was a cultural adventure, and I had my moments of fear in preparing for it. But nothing is quite like the fear of trying to go on a physically demanding adventure while in the back of your mind a tape is playing over and over, “Am I too old? Did I wait too long? Is it too late for me to have an adventure?”
For once in my life, I was planning on trying to do something I wasn’t sure I could do.  My pre-trip fears peaked on the day we left. I inadvertently stuck my speedometer in my pannier and thought that I had left it at home. I freaked out when I discovered this at the drop off point. I was so crabby that it is a wonder that anyone was willing to ride with me.
As we rode off, I continued to be nervous. Then, as we passed into Ohio after only a very short distance, I thought, “I’ve already made it into another state! I can do this!”

It was ridiculous really. We had only gone a few miles, but a state line was a state line.
Later, I would have other crises of self-confidence, and I would be tempted to go back. But nothing ever created as much trepidation as my initial departure.
Now that we are home, I think all of us have a bit more self confidence. And we all have more confidence in each other. For four weeks we were “home” only in the sense that we were together. We had food, a place to sleep, someone to fix a breakdown and security, only in so far as we had each other.
When it rained we sat in the “girl’s tent” and talked, played cards and said night prayers. At dinner we sat at the picnic table and told jokes and tales of the day as we do at home. I think that was probably when we missed Chris the most.
Now that we are back, and school is starting soon, I can’t believe how much I miss my children even though they are still here. The closeness of the trip was like a pause in our normal harum scarum life in which we all have our own pursuits and we all leap from project to project, challenge to challenge, or crisis to crisis.
When we got back, Chris was still out of work. Blessedly, he got a job two weeks later and as of today, August 1, he will have been working for a week. He is working closer to home and he is happy at his new job. He is even happier to have it.
I spent the week after we returned scrambling to finish my two distance learning classes and then promptly registered for the fall semester, which begins on August 22.
Jennifer made it back in time for band camp and a heat wave that left the band members wilting on the field the entire week of camp. She had her end of camp performance this past Friday and it was wonderful. The kids had only had a week to practice, so the music was a bit wonky, but I was so proud. They wore their wool blend uniforms in the heat while they performed, trying so earnestly not to make any mistakes. They wore their uniforms in the heat as the band director thanked everyone who had helped in any way with the camp. Gratitude is effusive in small town events.
The kids finally marched off the field of dry, brown grass, proudly lifting their feet as they passed their parents and grandparents, siblings and teachers. Jenny was the cutest of all.
After it was over, Jennifer and I rode our bikes to the store to pick up some groceries and then we rode home. Band camp was over until next year.
The kids spent much of the last two week scrubbing walls. They are doing “spring cleaning” in August, in the mornings and evenings, and resting during the heat of the day. Joseph spends almost every evening after dinner visiting his friends. On Saturday Mary Elizabeth had a booth of needle felted products and art at the Farmer’s Market here in Rushville. She sold a fairy. The day was a scorcher and attendance was poor. She hopes to do better next week, and is spending a lot of time on her art work.
This week is more work, as well as a couple of overnights with friends. Patrick weeded the yard this morning and then left to spend the night with his best friend. Joseph leaves tomorrow to do the same thing.
I am hoping to get in some family kayaking before school starts.
I have been riding about a hundred miles a week since our return. I rode 55 miles one day with Mary Elizabeth. We went to a bike shop where I got, once again, the distinct impression that overweight, past middle age housewives are not really their thing when it comes to customer service. I went to Indy Cycle on Saturday with Chris, however, and got perfect service. I also found my dream bike. I am not sure how or when I will be able to afford it but as Raould Dahl wrote, “secret plans and clever tricks” are always an option. ( see The Enormous Crocodile). The crocodile was referring to eating children. All I want is a new bike.
My bike is much the worse for wear after the trip. It was second hand to begin with and now needs to be replaced. I am hoping to ride at least part of my commute to Ball State after classes start and I need a real road bike for this.
Chris and I took our first sailing lesson on Saturday. We have given ourselves five years before we hope to move to a sailboat, assuming we enjoy the rental cruising experience we are planning to take summer after next. If we don’t like it, we can always prepare for another dream, based on the improvements in our finances and our fitness levels that we are trying to achieve.
In the meantime, we are contemplating our next adventure, a small one. We hope to go to Annapolis for the US Sailboat Show in October. If we can swing it, we can take the kids to the Smithsonian. I wonder if the giant stuffed whale is still hanging in the ceiling as it was when I was a kid? Forget all the informative plaques and modern, interactive museum exhibits they have nowadays. I want to see the hanging whale.
Today is my day to finally write thank you notes to all the wonderful warm showers people who helped make our trip possible. I can’t thank them enough!