My kindergarten teacher told my mother there was something wrong with me because I didn't talk.
She thought it was because I couldn't talk; really, it was because I had nothing to say.

I still get like that: I just have nothing I want to talk about.
It doesn't mean nothing is going on in my head; usually, it means there is too much going on in my head.
Talking, unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), does nothing to empty out my head, instead it adds to the noise up there.
So today, again, I have nothing else to say.

Here are a few random pictures about which I have nothing to say (right now):

Daytripping - Raccoon Creek State Park, Pennsylvania

Before I tell you about my trip, I want to insert some gratitude for my wee little gas sipper:


I get about 34mpg just zipping back and forth to town, but on the highway it easily gets 40mpg. I've always thought tiny 4-cylinder engines were smart, but now that gas prices are so high more people understand why I like it so much.
Alright, I'm done talking about gas prices. For now. But, yes, I plan to revisit the subject...


Raccoon Creek State Park is located in Pennsylvania just to the east of the northernmost tip of the Northern Panhandle of West Virginia. And, being as close as it is to West Virginia, it is beautiful.



So what did it take to get me to go? To get me to leave West Virginia, even for such a short time? To take me away from my writing, my coffee house construction, my kids, my daily chaos routine?



Part of it was the lure of a walk in the woods, but there's no need to go anywhere for that. I am very blessed with plenty of woods and plenty of walking space right here at home. Plenty of that West Virginia beauty, too.



Really, the reason I went? Friends. Good old friends.
They drove down from Ohio and Raccoon Creek State Park is just about exactly the halfway point (now that we know this, we should get together more often).
And it was worth the trip.

Walking up a hill, Nancy spotted this:


And from the back side of the tree it looked like this:

I wonder how many years it's been there?








It was just enough further north that jack-in-the-pulpit still sat in his pulpit:




All those beautiful pictures of green and now I have to throw this one in:


I've never seen a giant M&M vending machine.
Maybe I'm just not paying attention.

Thanks, Lisa and Nancy, for being my friends and loving a walk in the woods as much as I do.

'Shoot to Win'

I followed this down Route 50, coming back from Preston County:



I've always said that I am going to get a bumper sticker made especially for PC that says "Weird Load," but this guy wins for the day because, for once, our load wasn't all that weird.
What were we hauling? You'll have to wait until I get time to post about it over at The Grafton 123 House of Coffee blog site.....

Pink Shoe Puddles

"Does Gatorade stain?"
I wasn't sure how to take this question seeing as how it came from a kid who puts his shirt on backwards everyday.
"It can, yes," I answered from the driver's seat.
I wanted to say, "Does Gatorade make a puddle on the floor or does it soak into the carpet?" but I refrained. There had been worse stuff in the back seat: a flattened, oozing banana with a halo of fruit flies, moldy peanut butter sandwiches squished inside a baggie (hopefully inside), green string cheese, and the occasional dog biscuit that was overlooked in favor of something tastier - rotten-er.
We have a dog because it's easier than using the vacuum cleaner - she can really get into all the small spaces without the inconvenience of an attachment.
"Will it come out of my socks?"
It's red Gatorade.
I'm sure the socks are a lovely shade of pink.
They'll go well with the inside-out and backwards underwear.


***I wrote this last summer and never posted it.
Relevant updates:
My son doesn't put his shirt (or underwear) on backwards everyday anymore, just every once in a while; he's growing up.
By now, you've already become acquainted with the dog.