<p>Thanks y’all . It was fun to write something (hopefully) humorous again. </p>
<p>To those who have shared your stories of move-ins past or current, or your fears of move-ins yet to come, thanks to y’all, also. We’re all in this leaky boat together.</p>
<p>So has Mudgarella banned you from future move-ins?</p>
<p>By the way, you’re not a true redneck if the jerry-rigging of the mirror did not include baling wire or a coat hanger (the urban alternative).</p>
<p>Great story. We were headed out in our miniVan and the van started shaking so we had to pull off the parkway. Nothing seemed wrong so we headed back to the parkway and got lost trying to find our way back on. Then we felt it again and smelled something burning. The rear brakes were locking and burning up. We had to head back home and switched to our car. Had to leave a few things behind and there we were, all three in the front seat of a Buick. When we finally arrived, d. was so embarrased to be seen like that. I just wanted out of the car and could care less who saw us! Then to top it off d. could not get her keys because the school did not mail us some required health forms. It gets better, when we check out the missing forms, our file is an arms length from the person at the desk. I mean our file was that close all summer and no one could inquire why two forms were missing? I guess waiting for the day to move in was a better time to ask? This just added to the anxiety and I wasn’t too happy. Things worked out but I was pretty disappointed.</p>
<p>Oh Curm, you are a treasure! Great story (but, better you than me, bud!—LOL). The hot-flash queen in me almost fainted at the very thought of 105+ degrees. Watching the news earlier in the week, I pointed out to H that Memphis reported a high of 110 that day! Never, in the four years between 1982 and 1986 that we lived in Memphis, did the temps get quite that high.:eek: Nevertheless, I still remember the face melting humidity of a Memphis summer with temps hovering at 100 to 101. </p>
<p>I had a car towed from the Rhodes College campus once. Back then, campus visitor parking was notoriously scarce. I was gone for 15 minutes, hoping for the best. Yeah, right…</p>
<p>Reading your story brought back fond memories of that city by the Mississippi. I remember how the fireworks at the close of the Memphis In May celebration seemed to always end up in fierce competition with the light show from some massive storm moving in across the river from Arkansas. We had a friend who always competed in the whole hog barbecue competition every year, and helping out with his crew was always great fun.</p>
<p>We were there after they “revitalized” Beale St. and Spent part of our cheap honeymoon on Mud Island. Ha! I never could get behind the Elvis mania, though. So I never did tour Graceland (as hard as that might be for some people to fathom). Poplar Avenue…what a great street…such fond memories. I always loved how they actually named a notoriusly congested road, Mt. Moriah (always made me think of Moses stuck in traffic :D). Is the Mall of Memphis still standing? Back in '82, a mall with an Ice Rink was pretty unusual, I think. I also spent quite a bit of my hard earned military income at the Hickory Ridge Mall (back when I wore the title, “Mall Rat” as a badge of honor ;)).</p>
<p>You guys are not making me feel better!! We leave on Thursday for NC where the temps and humidity have been in the 90’s. We’re taking the cars with the AC…DD is staying here with the one with the broken AC (hey, someone has to suffer). For us, it will be a 12-13 hour drive in horrible traffic until we get south of DC. I’m lobbying for leaving at 3 am to avoid rush hour everywhere…no one else is buying it.</p>
<p>Well, I’ll just remember the pleasure of 80 degrees in Rochester for move-in while all your kids are basking in the winter sunshine down south!</p>
<p>Hey Thumper…I live in NC. S2 had a football game last night (gametime temp. 94) When we got home from the game (at almost 10p.m.) the trmperature was still 90! Of course that beats the 101 it was here two days ago. Good luck and keep that AC blowing</p>
<p>Thumper
I second your vote to leave at 3a.m.
we left NY at 9:30 for SC got stuck in traffic in Brooklyn,Wash-Balt corridor,Richmond,etc.It was neverending.Took 15 hrs. Arrived in Columbia at 1:35 a.m. Thank goodness we like each other and the car (Jeep ) was comfy.Also Hampton Inn new beds are unbelievably comfortable and the air conditioning was icy cold.</p>
<p>I just loved reading about your adventure! Makes those of us who had rather ‘ordinary’ move-ins appreciate our own good luck! What a great tale, Cur! Clearly written by a true Texan! Did you take some Cooper’s over to Memphis to teach those folks a thang or two about real barbeque??!!</p>
<p>Yeah baby…let’s talk barbeque! </p>
<p>I enjoy NC pulled pork immensely; but this trip up, my husband and I went on a search for some good ol’ Texas-style BRISKET. (Not sure what animal they cook in TN, but in Texas, we eat COWS.) Packmom, maybe you know … where do they keep the bbq brisket in NC?! We never found it…lol!</p>
<p>“Dante missed the very lowest circle of hell - I-95 in southern CT. But at least our A/C worked!”</p>
<p>Oh, how I can attest to the truth of that! I am so glad I don’t have a kid in school in CT anymore–that stretch never ended. And the very old van’s AC was too problematical to use on long, loaded trips…</p>
<p>Tuesday morning, I am going to be one of those smiling people at the check-in line for our new students. I am going to keep all your stories in mind as I meet and greet them. Truthfully, though, we don’t see many parents, so keep in mind how lucky your kids are to have you along for the ride!</p>
<p>ldmom: I’m pretty sure I’ve been to all of these (in the link below) at one time or another in my life. If you want to know which are the best, pm me. I notice they list one or two in Chapel Hill, but I haven’t tried those. Packmom will agree with me, I’m sure, but <em>only</em> in NC will you find the real thing. 
<a href=“http://ncbbq.blogspot.com/[/url]”>http://ncbbq.blogspot.com/</a></p>
<p>Curmudgeon: Very funny. You missed your calling; you could definitely write a book.</p>
<p>All in favor of curmudgeon starting a weekly column to take over where Dave Barry* left off, say “Aye”:</p>
<p>Aye.</p>
<p><em>that’s Dave Barry the humor columnist, not Dave Berry of College Confidential, btw</em></p>
<p>Thumper, I am telling you…do not take that route!!! Head west, catch 81 down to 77 then to W-S…you can do it in 13-14 hours…the time wil not matter. Lorelei</p>
<p>Splendid.</p>
<p>Has anyone ever told you that your down-home storytelling is reminiscent of humorist Jean Shepherd’s? You paint quite a vivid picture–I could actually feel the sweat dripping. (No wonder the “I miss curmudgeon” thread!)</p>
<p>As a NYer, I expect that every time I get in my car it won’t be long 'til I sink below the seventh level of hell, as well.</p>
<p>Keep on truckin’…;)</p>
<p>In response to jmmom: AYE!</p>
<p>Thumper: In agreement with Lorelei, my son assures me the I-81 to I-77 to the Piedmont region of NC beats the I-95 to I-85 trek, for sure.</p>
<p>Another AYE for Curm’s column…</p>
<p>Re: The north/south east coast trudge on 95/85… we do the I-81 to 77 en route to my parents in Georgia. Haven’t been on 95 south of DC in years. Heading south from north Jersey, we take 78 to 81. From the Tappan Zee, 87 to 287 to 78 to 81 to 77. Tappan Zee Bridge to W-S is clocked on Google Maps as 620 miles, just under 10 hours.</p>
<p>
LOL. Y’all have me confused with somebody else. Most days I would be doing good to read a book, much less write one. But I do appreciate the kind words. </p>
<p>The writing I did on this thread has been like therapy and the shrink’s up to $200 an hour soooooo - if anybody cares to hear about my dog, you can read on and I’ll spend the $200 this month on heavier springs for the GS. </p>
<p>OT: </p>
<p>I lost one of the best souls I’ll ever meet on this earth back in the spring when one half of my guard dog team got the scours and died. I tell myself I didn’t have time to do a thing. Losing her , along with some other (and some would say more major) travails, has taken a toll on my motivation. </p>
<p>Laverne worked every day of her life, and every night, too . She never gave birth to any babies but she was nursemaid to more than a hundred and you can bet your own life she’d have died for any of them. She’d come down to the cabin and whine when one of the idiots got their head caught in the fence again . (Picture the swept back horns on a goat’s head. They go through the fence easy but like a fish hook get caught on the return trip. Duh. And I’m pretty dang sure it was a goat who first said “the grass is always greener…”.)</p>
<p>Laverne wouldn’t stop her crying until you followed her the 1/2 mile or more to that very spot in the fence. And that’s where her full-sister Shirley would be . Many nights , usually the cold and wet ones, the thought hit D, W, or I that we should get rid of the idiots and just raise the dogs. I’m pretty sure it crossed Shirley’s mind, too. </p>
<p>Shirley was content to let Laverne be the great communicator . With her black eyes and her impressive vocals ranging from Tuvan throat singing to banshee wails, she’d tell us about danger, about need, about want, about joy and happiness, and all too often about her great pain and sadness. Head and belly flat on the ground, eyes up, still protecting a baby that didn’t make it a morning ago. And then the crying.</p>
<p>I hate to disagree with about a hundred Hank Williams songs, but the saddest sound has not always been a train whistle in some lonesome dark. For a time it was my dog. </p>
<p>Probably my fondest memory of the ranch is the girls herding crippled-up Barbara, the world’s oldest barbado ewe, into a horse stall on the worst nights and then laying beside her to keep her warm. We could watch them through D’s bedroom windows. (It was D’s horse’s stall ;)) When it came a blue norther both dogs were with her. W or D would go the barn and turn on the red lamp in the stall and Laverne would once again be the sentinel. Running down any sound, any movement. If you were a predator determined or desperate enough to stay, she’d kill you dead. </p>
<p>It was a hoot to watch them all come down to the barn before a storm or a cold front. Laverne would take the lead pushing the goats , sheep, and the more tame deer and Shirley would walk however slowly she needed to stay behind stiff-legged Barbara (just her front left , her back right, and her back left. The other leg worked just fine. It gave her walk a rather North Korean/ Monty Python gait. Edit: LOL. W just reminded me that one of Barb’s legs had been broken and W had duct taped it back together. We used to push her in the wheelbarrow during the mend when changing pens. God, I had forgotten that. ).</p>
<p>From the window of the kitchen , looking across the arena, we could see coming this way at parade pace the acrobatic kid goats, the rambunctious lambs, the many colors of sheep, goats , and deer, a lumbering brace of heavy bred and mostly tame red deer hinds, … and then Barb. It looked like our own little circus was coming to town. And we always knew the weather was turning ugly. </p>
<p>Laverne and Shirley weren’t/aren’t people dogs. They are working dogs. From generations of working dogs. Human contact is a curled up tail wagging their whole body , their black eyes dancing , a happy bark. There was no petting, no hand-licking, no kisses but I think I can speak for D and W and say that we never doubted they loved each of us . </p>
<p>Shirley misses Laverne a bunch. She seems to have arthritis pretty bad and I don’t think she’ll make the winter. But you never know. We keep a very close eye.</p>
<p>We have three new dogs. D named the little nut dog (who will weigh about 100) Izzy, short for Isabel, Queen of Spain. The other two are Thelma and Louise and right now they are 50lbs a piece of useless. All three give us kisses. They give Shirley kisses, too. She tolerates them, chastens them contsantly, but every once in a while she’ll lick their muzzles. After all, they’re her babies, too. </p>
<p>Thanks for reading.</p>
<p>Oh, I’m so sorry to hear about Laverne! What a beautiful tribute, a fine farewell to a Good Dog.</p>
<p>That is probably the most touching thing I’ve ever read curmudgeon. I know she won’t want it, but please force a quick pat or even a little neck hug on Shirley for me. Poor lonesome girl…</p>