Hooky, Part II

When last I left you, I’d been grudgingly allowed to check into my hotel, despite my scandalous lack of male supervision.  Determined to confirm the desk clerk’s low opinion of me, I went right back out a little while later (at night, alone, oh the horrors) and headed to my friend’s house.  The rest of the evening will remain cloaked in mystery.  I can’t actually describe it and so must leave it to your imagination (though I regret to inform you there were no pillow fights, sorry).

There are only few bits of the next day discretion allows me to recount.  The first is our visit to Rae’s Yarn Boutique.  It is a charming little store, and most of us walked out with with a few goodies to augment our stashes.  I, somehow, didn’t buy yarn.  I bought fiber.  It will be turning into a project somewhere down the line, and I’ll tell you more about it then.  The second is our visit to Fork in the Road for lunch.  If you’re in Lansing, I highly recommend it (get the tater tots, you can thank me later).  The last is my discovery of a perry (that’s like cider, but made with pears instead of apples) by a company called Uncle John’s Fruit House Winery.  I saw it on the shelf but was put off by the cartoonish packaging (shallow, I know, but true).  But then I tried some and saw the error of my ways.  I note this so I can remember to buy more next time I’m in the area (why yes, I do use the blog as a combination journal/calendar/reminder system, why ever do you ask).

Saturday evening and Sunday morning must again go undescribed.  We’ll pick back up on Sunday afternoon.  I had a bit of time to kill after the festivities, so I headed over to Woven Art.  On the way there, I noticed the car was…growling.  That’s really the only word for it–a low, constant growling that got louder when I turned the wheel.  After a brief phone consultation with The Boy, I checked the power steering fluid, and behold, it was low.  I filled it up and the growling stopped.  Somewhat reassured, I continued on to the store and procured goodies.  Everything was well when I returned to the car, so I did a bit more exploring (game store, book store, dinner) and turned in for the evening.

Before heading out the next morning, I checked the power steering fluid again.  It was nearly empty.  Strong language followed.  But it seemed like it only leaked out when the car sat unused for a while, and I needed to get home.  After another phone consultation with The Boy, I decided to get extra power steering fluid and stop frequently to check the level.  This was convenient, as Ann Arbor is more or less on the way home, and there were a few things I wanted to check out there.  It would be a lovely place tend to the car.  I started by heading to Busy Hands (they have no website).  They are, alas, closed on Mondays (which I would have known…had they had a website).  I clung, limpet-like, to the window and gazed longingly at the yarn.  It waved to me in a friendly fashion, but my aversion to crime kept us apart.  I consoled myself with lunch across the street at Jolly Pumpkin.  This was a very effective technique.  Further consolation was had when I realized that there was both a chocolate shop and a used book store just up the block.  Thus revived, I continued on my way.

While I was busy bolstering my spirits, the car had been busy leaking–leaking faster.  The rate of drip meant that I got to stop at every blasted rest stop along the Ohio turnpike.  To make this more fun, the weather turned dramatically nasty and pelted me with heavy snow and gusty winds.  It was keen.  Loads of fun.  Not at all nerve wracking.  In any case, I made it safely home.  It turned out I needed a new steering rack.  I’m not quite sure what a steering rack is, but I gather it is important and you don’t want it taking a holiday as you’re zipping down the highway.

Despite the car’s sudden homicidal streak, the trip was a rousing success.  I think I’ll play hooky a bit more often.


When playing hooky, it is best not to have too much of an advance plan.  A certain element of spontaneity is necessary if you’re to have the proper atmosphere of indulgence and excess.  That being said, my weekend hooky session did have a few things that needed to be planned.  The Boy needed to be to the airport on time (he was flying off to visit his sister), the Kitten Overlords needed to be fed and watered in our absence, and I needed a place to sleep while I was away.  The rest was fairly freeform.

I started by heading off to an orchard a bit north of my final destination.  Almar Orchards makes one of our favorite hard ciders, something called (I swear I’m not making this up) J.K.’s Scrumpy.  It’s awfully tasty stuff, and the idea of going to find its home was rather appealing.  Alas, it’s apparently the wrong time of the year to visit apple orchards, and things were a bit quiet.  I did get to chat with the resident puppies and may have accidentally bought rather a lot of honey.  I may also have stopped in at another orchard that I drove past while on my way to Almar and bought a bit more honey.  It seemed the thing to do.  Somehow I totally neglected to note the name, but it’s on the same road.  If you’re going to one you can’t help but see the other.

I was totally smitten by the bins of apples waiting to be smushed, and asked if I could take a picture.  The woman there was a bit horrified and kept saying that these were the blemished apples they used for smashing, and wouldn’t I rather take a picture of the pretty apples they sold whole?  But I was taken with them, and they’re the ones that get made into the product I’m most fond of, so I took a picture of them despite her confusion.

After securing a 6 month supply of honey, I headed off to lunch with a ravelry friend.  It’s always such fun to put faces to people you’ve chatted with on the computer for years.  It feels like catching up with old friends, not meeting someone for the first time.  We had lunch and then swung by Sticks & String.  There began what would be the theme of the weekend’s yarn purchases.  I’d find what I wanted, bring it to the counter, hear the final price, and say ‘is that it?’  It would turn out the yarn I wanted was on sale.  So I’d go get the other yarn I also wanted but had left on the shelf out of a sense of fiscal responsibility — which would then also be on sale.  Apparently the yarn fairies had sprinkled their magic dust on me for this trip.

I headed to the hotel next.  Along the way I was sucked into some sort of time warp.  At least that’s the only reason I can think of for the desk clerk to ask me where my husband was and then say that he (the desk clerk) would ‘need to check with him’ (The Boy) before I could check in.  I explained that no, this was indeed 2012, that I am an adult with a credit card, that the reservation was made in my name, and that I did not need my husband’s permission to leave the house.  A brief conversation ensued, and I eventually found myself checked into my room.  I think a letter to the company may be in order.  This certainly isn’t their normal response to women traveling alone, and I think they might want to know this particular hotel is experimenting with a new and somewhat unorthodox approach.  But now this has grown overly long, and this seems a good place to leave things for the moment.  I’ll be back later with the rest.


Back Soon

Sorry for the radio silence.  I ran away from home and blithely shirked all adult responsibility for the weekend. The good news  is that this means I’ll have plenty to tell you about once I’m back to being a grown up next week.  Until then, I highly recommend the shirking and suggest you consider it from time to time too.