He's On It!!!!

Aaron and I are both a bit overwhelmed by all the good wishes we've received over the last week. I can't figure out how to respond to comments individually, so I'll do it here - thanks so much, everybody! You're helping convince me that this is really real.

We've even received a card already, and this one's pretty exciting. Just in case you can't read the handwriting, it's from Helio Castroneves. No, we don't know him personally, but my mother went to an autograph session and had him sign this for us, and had it waiting when we visited Indy this weekend. We're pretty moved by that, because I'm sure my mother was so overwhelmed by meeting Helio face-to-face that it's really touching she thought of us, too. "Almost as cute as Helio" is her highest praise for describing someone's good looks. Personally, I think "almost as cute as Aaron" is a pretty flattering thing to say about Helio.


While the official purpose of our trip was to check out wedding sites, we also wanted to visit the Speedway, since it's been a few years since we've been free to spend any time there. We went out for Saturday's qualifying, and the weather couldn't have been better.

The fun thing about qualifying days is that there's a lot more freedom to wander the track, so you can see everything. Tony Hulman always placed a high priority on fan access, and his legacy still holds strong.

This means you can get pretty up close and personal with everything. For example, the Borg-Warner Trophy, 153 pounds of sterling silver which sit in the pit to inspire the drivers, each hoping to add his or her likeness to the trophy. Even the Detonator Sock was allowed to get close enough for a picture - and since it's the Speedway, no one thought this was weird.


There was a lot going on in the infield, so even those who don't share my obsession with fast cars could've found something fun to do. The Army and Navy brought out a mess of equipment, and let people climb over and through it. My deadly sock is working on its intimidating look by hanging out with an Apache helicopter. Are you scared, bleusheep?


But the real action was on the track. They were just open for practice when we got there, so we settled in with an awesome view of the start/finish line and the flag stand.

At some point, they've changed the colors of one of the flags from blue and orange to blue and yellow. And they were waving the blue/yellow flag a lot today, which isn't something I've ever seen before. I'll have to find a racing expert who knows what was going on. Amanda, can you save me a call to Donald Davidson?


We also had a nice view of some of the pit activity from our seats.


And I Karen & I both tried to take pictures of the cars. This is a lot harder than one might think - it's hard to imagine 220 miles an hour, even when it's going on right in front of you. I don't know how many times I took this picture without a car in it, but here's Thomas Scheckter, in his spiffy black & yellow car, going very, very fast.


Wandering around along the pit area offers all sorts of adventures for race fans and socks. We stood on the Yard of Bricks (as it extends to the Pagoda, not on the track). That's Karen waiting patiently behind me. She understands a sock's need for pictures.


And we met the Firestone Firehawk. I'm so glad I don't work as a costumed character anymore.


When we were settled in our seats, I kept hearing the announcer talk about the windy conditions and the importance of tower sock. "Wow," I said to my sock, "a sock is an important part of what's happening here. You've gotta see this!" So we found this Very Important Sock -


- on top of the scoring pylon. Aren't socks great?


When it looked like there might be some qualifying runs, we moved to seats right alongside the lane back to Gasoline Alley. This is another Hulman legacy - it means that all the cars and all the drivers move through an area where it's pretty easy for the public to see them.

So we saw A.J. Foyt IV's car being pushed out to the line. He didn't actually make a qualifying run - they said he couldn't get his car out of 2nd gear on the warm-up lap. But the last driver of the day - Marty Roth - made a successful run, so Aaron got to see a driver take the checkered flag and qualify for the 500, something he'd never seen before.


Marty Roth drives for Marty Roth Racing, so his car is pretty plain right now. I don't know if he'll line up any sponsors before the race or not. A few years ago the guy who won the race only had one small sponsor - but now that the purple Rachel's Potato Chips car is in the Hall of Fame, everyone's heard of them.


We hit the driver-photo jackpot in our new spot. First Dan Wheldon and Scott Dixon were signing autographs. I didn't go see them, because I've Chip Ganassi went slinking off to CART when the IRL was formed, but the sock still thought a picture was fun. And we're all supposed to be friends again, and it's really amazing that the leading participants in the greatest sporting event anywhere, ever, (Dixon and Wheldon are qualified 1st and 2nd).


We also saw Milka Duno - who qualified 27th, making this the third consecutive year of having three women in the field.


And Ryan Briscoe, who is so cute that I really can't hold driving for Penske against him. I guess I've become reconciled to the Penske empire, since I bought my new car from them, and they saw the light and returned to the IRL long ago.


Then there's the driver everyone wanted to see. Here's her car....


And here's Danica. Every driver gets mobbed on the way back to the garages, but Danica drew a bigger mob than most. When Karen was trying to get pictures of one of her friends on Danica's crew, she had a hard time working around the crowds even when Danica wasn't in the pit.

She really is as small as she looks. But that's not unusual - a lot of the male drivers look like jockeys.


As the qualifying shut down, I wanted to go look for one really big driver - A.J. Foyt. I'd seen him speeding by in a golf cart earlier, but I hoped his grandson's last-minute qualifying attempt would bring him out into the pits. Seeing the little Foyt would've been cool, too.

And while we didn't get to see any Foyts, it's a good thing we lingered, because look who turned up for an interview after most people had left the track!

Yep, it's Helio, two-time Indy winner and "Dancing With the Stars" champion. We were standing with a bunch of Brazilians who were calling out to him in Portuguese, so they told us he'd be coming by to shake hands and sign autographs.


Speaking of Brazilians, we had a funny encounter. We were surprised by the number of Brazilians there, but then started trying to think of how many drivers were from Brazil. One of the first I mentioned was Emerson Fittipaldi, which prompted a man standing nearby to pipe up "you mean that orange-juice drinking son of a...." I think Aaron may have thought I exaggerated the response to Fittipaldi's failure to respect the milk, but here we have a spontaneous display of how important tradition is at Indianapolis. Helio respects the milk.

And the sock. I didn't ask him to take the time for a posed picture, since there were a whole bunch of people there, but the sock had a chance to hang out while he was giving me an autograph - which will probably go along with the sock.


On the way out, we stopped for one last picture on the MotoGP track, just in case anyone wonders if I'm taking this car racing thing too far. I think that's impossible, when you're standing in the Racing Capital of the World!

Ft. Meigs

It's been a lively weekend. I've been working on my Sock Wars weapon, but bleusheep will be happy to know that I've been distracted by all sorts of other things.

We spent Saturday at Baron Wars, an SCA event in Perrysburg, Ohio. This is a really fun event, because it's held at Fort Meigs, which was built during the War of 1812. There aren't a lot of modern distractions (other than the ones we bring) inside the fort, and it's a well-equipped site.

It's also a great place for fighting. Some years they even do battles through the gates of the fort, although I didn't see any of those this year. I think they still had fun - and my weapon-sock had the chance to get acquainted with other weapons, so it had fun, too.


I spent most of the day knitting, but I managed to work in a bit of shopping (now I have a fun book on medieval and Renaissance dice games, and a cool Viking hat), and took a class on Persian woven buttons, so I can improve some of my garb.

We also took some time to walk around and enjoy the site. The fort overlooks the Maumee river, with a rather commanding view of the route inland from Lake Erie.


And you can see that the cannon can still be loaded with something dangerous! Pow! Bang!


I haven't made as much progress as I'd like to on the sock - because Thursday night I decided I really needed a new outfit. So I spent Thursday night (when I should have been resting) and Friday night (when I should have been knitting) on my new blue Viking dress. I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out, and I'm sure I'll like it even better once I've hemmed it.


The new dress isn't the only reason I'm smiling in this picture. Notice anything else new?

Like this?

It was a very exciting weekend.

Aaron proposed Saturday evening, and of course I said yes! He sneaked out Friday morning, while we were getting ready for the event, to buy the ring - and I never caught on. I didn't even know what was coming when he suggested we take a walk to look at the river - I really thought he just wanted to admire the view. Right now I'm just too happy to find words to describe how happy I am!

Leisure Socks

Classes start on Monday, and I had to return to work today, so yesterday Aaron & I took the dogs and the Christmas sock back down to Indianapolis for a last hurrah before Christmas break ends. While the dogs enjoyed some quality time helping Grandma with the Christmas leftovers, we visited the art museum's "Roman Art from the Louvre" exhibit. Alas, photography of borrowed collections is prohibited, so I didn't get to sneak the socks next to the statues for any "what they really wore under those sandals" pictures.

Afterwards we headed downtown to Agio for dinner, and to enjoy the loungeriffic music of the Leisure Kings. Sean Baker (the one holding the sock) is a friend from high school, so he didn't flinch when I asked him to pose with a sock. Sean always wanted to grow up to be Henry Mancini. He danced the Charleston at prom. He loves smoking jackets. The sock isn't really that weird, by comparison.

Oddly, Sean is the straight man for this group, so to speak. He plays keyboards while Michael Wiltrout (the one with the yarn) sings more-or-less contemporary songs, arranged in lounge fashion. We were treated to swanky renditions of "Mr. Roboto, " "It Ain't Easy Bein' a Pimp," and a special performance of "These Boots are Made for Walkin'," by a 70-year-old lounge singer who was delightfully dressed in white leather and spiky-heeled boots. (Samples are available on their website, should it be impossible to imagine this.) If I had to pick a highlight, it would be that Michael played the Theremin....I've thought before that it would be really cool to learn to play the Theremin, and I've never seen one played before. (I've read that one must have an excellent sense of pitch to play the Theremin, so it's probably not in the cards for me. Besides, the dogs would howl along when I practiced.)

I probably should focus more on the music than on a minor instrument - but hey, it's a Theremin. (Did I mention that Lenin played the Theremin? Or that Theremin himself was an espionage expert? There's a fabulous book available for further reading.) Let me just say that I've gained a new appreciation for the lyrics of several popular songs, even if I'm not cool enough to know what's popular. Perhaps I'll look for some go-go boots for the next visit. Or some lounge attire to match the Christmas socks.

Talladega

I have to explain a bit about my family. My father was married four times between WWII and the Johnson Administration, and had three children in both the first and last marriages. (I'm #4 - my mother's oldest). So I have a 60-something sister and a 40-something nephew, and was a great-aunt at 18. A handful of marriages, divorces, and comings-out makes charting family relationships rather complicated. So it's unusual that we all get together.

But on Tuesday, my father will be 80 years old. And a few years ago Dad hit his midlife crisis and became a NASCAR fan. This Depression baby picked up a used RV as an impulse buy, bought a Jeff-Gordon themed sports car, and started hitting the race circuit - usually in the company of my half-sister, Cyndy. (Cyndy, by the way, could provide enough material for a blog all by herself. Even without knitting. I'll try to stick with the highlights.) So Cyndy decided to organize a surprise birthday celebration, and get the whole family together at the NASCAR race at Talladega. She suggested. She cajoled. She cheered. And somehow, she convinced all six kids, my mother, and a handful of more-or-less related people to pack up and spend the weekend camping in an amenity-free field in the middle of Alabama.

My younger sister flew in to Indianapolis from Montana, and I snuck down there on Thursday night - once Mom & Dad had left - to meet up with her and my brother so we could drive down to the racetrack on Friday. I turned out to be the experienced camper in the bunch, so it's good that Aaron, the saint that he is, helped with all the arrangements, even though he stayed home to grade papers and watch VeryBadDogs. His help gave me more time to decide which knitting I should bring.

"A lot" turned out to be the answer, since my brother drove the whole way. I'm always happy to get in more knitting time! Alabama is a very different place, and they want you to know it. This is what you see outside the rest stop. They take their history seriously here.


They're pretty wild about the future, too. This is what you see as you approach the Welcome Center on I-65. For the record, that's a Saturn 1B rocket, and a Monkey sock.


And NASCAR fans are wild about their drivers. We could tell who was 'dega-bound, either by the decorated cars or by the coolers of beer. NASCAR fans are sort of like Deadheads, but with more beer and less grilled cheese. The whole driver thing is something of a problem in our family, since my father is a big Jeff Gordon fan, but Cyndy has what can only be termed a massive crush on Dale Earnhardt, and now roots for Junior. (OK, I can't resist a diversion here. When I say a "massive crush," I mean massive. Cyndy's answering machine says "Earnhardt Residence." She does the number-3 gesture for every picture. She only drives black cars. And I should mention that she's gay. She's clearly blessed with a very understanding partner. When Dale died, I sent Cyndy a sympathy card. She drove out to try to get into the funeral. And almost succeeded.)


Have you ever landed in a foreign country, gone to a grocery store in search of food, and been overwhelmed by a shiver of displacement, seizing on bananas or a loaf of bread for a desperate link to something familiar? That's how I felt at the Pell City Wal-Mart, even though all the products were the same. But the parking lot Christmas-full, and there were racing souvenir or sponsor trailers everywhere. The parking lot was festooned with Budweiser flags.

And there was a race car in the produce department. A car. Bananas... lettuce... stock cars. So much for the familiar. Did I mention that NASCAR fans seem to be pretty serious about this whole thing?


Well, "serious" is a word I'd have to use pretty loosely. Kerry tells me that Talladega is a "Redneck Mardi Gras." So we prepared - loaded up the car with birthday cake and beer, and headed to the campground just as the ARCA race ended and dark set in. And Dad was surprised. He'd already had the shock of "running into" some Canadian friends, Lisa and Marty, at the Nashville Wal-Mart. ("Where are you going?" he asked. "Talladega." "Oh, wow, where are you camping?" "With you. Happy Birthday!") Then my older brother, John, turned up with his wife, daughter, and son-in-law (Greg The Bug Man) around noon, after having spent months deflecting my father's suggestions that he come down to Talladega sometime. So once we turned up, he was pretty overwhelmed. And Cyndy was beside herself with joy.

And Kerry was right - it really is the Redneck Mardi Gras. This is the "Bead Wagon," a Talladega tradition carried out by a family from Louisiana. They're nine brothers, but one of them is a girl, and every year the brothers do a bigger and better float (last year's theme was "FEMA Jailbirds"). This year, my father was the first non-family member ever to ride the Bead Wagon, and he was thrilled. There's nothing like spending your birthday weekend with hundreds of friends, and hundreds of thousands of cans of cheap beer.

Hell Hounds

It's Birthday Time in Hell! Karen is 35, and we celebrated in Hell, Michigan. After spending a night with some of her very kind (and very dog-tolerant) friends, we headed for home, via Hell.


Hell isn't even really a wide spot in the road. There are just a couple of buildings, with lots of room for the bikers to park. There are no public toilets in Hell.


But there is an ice-cream store, Screams. The entrance to this delicious underworld and its accompanying gift shop is well-guarded, even if we're one head short.


While the dogs made Hell their own territory in the traditional doggie way, the sock posed for a picture with the self-proclaimed mayor of Hell. He's building a miniature golf course, although right now he's fighting the objections of the demon-filled town council. They say there's no zoning for family entertainment in Hell. Apparently there's a bureaucracy, but who's surprised by that?


Since it was Karen's birthday, we got an official tour of the golf course in progress. It's going to be really neat when it's finished. The mayor is doing the work himself, using recycled materials - including coal slag (which will be significant later), and old cemetery fences.


So we all had ice cream, posed for goofy pictures, and visited the general store (where they sell liquor and t-shirts). Then Karen suggested we check out one of the nearby small lakes, so as to see the pretty parts of Hell. The dogs helpfully ran through the brimstone-scented coal slag to get there.


And then they dove in. Max has never really liked the water much. But maybe the local water isn't green and slimy enough, because here they went swimming. And scampering around in the weeds and algae. And rolling around in the grass.


So the rest of Karen's birthday was spent in a car with two wet dogs. Remember that $42 I spent on Tuesday to have them groomed? It's forgotten now. It's a good thing she's dog-tolerant too.


We made it home about 10:00 at night, all of us dog-tired. No yarn, no coins, but here's my haul from the Johnson Estates. Impressive, eh? Karen's already planning next year's trip. I wonder if there are yarn stores on Route 66?

London Calling

It may have been easier to visit the UK's London. On the way in, we got lost and wound up in Mississauga, a suburb of Toronto that seems to have collected leftover apartment buildings from East Berlin. This would not have been so bad if we hadn't seen the Mississauga sign just as Karen said "y'know, last time I was here I took a wrong turn and wound up in Mississauga."

But once we settled into London, and our previously mentioned lovely hotel, everyone was very happy. We found out that we were sharing a hotel with participants in a rock festival, so the dogs were petted by a bunch of old guys with long hair, and we think our leftover pizza found a place on Deep Purple's bus. Unfortunately, I couldn't tell the difference between aging long-haired rockers and aging long-haired fans, so I didn't get any celebrity pictures with the dogs.


We didn't find time to see much of London, but it seems to be a lovely city, and the dogs were very popular. They even put up some dog-friendly public art - metal trees all over town.


I'm not sure Oscar was convinced. This one is neatly labeled to let the viewer know it's some sort of elm, but that doesn't help much for dogs who can't read. Karen, on the other hand, was thrilled to see such educational art, but as a forestry major her relationship to trees is rather different from the dogs'.


Our chosen lunch destination was one Oscar Taylor's, which seemed appropriate. But they wouldn't let dogs on the patio - the embarrassed hostess said the cowardly wimp of a manager feared the dogs might "scare other patrons." (I offer the link to their webpage only for information - not a recommendation!) Since we were having lunch at 3:00, and the only person on the patio was a woman more interested in smoking than ordering, this seemed a bit of a stretch. So they're definitely not on our "nice places to eat" list! But we made our way to the very dog-friendly (and patron-friendly) Tenenbaum's hamburger restaurant, where we were assured that the dogs were welcome at the outdoor tables as long as they didn't smoke. Not only did they refrain from smoking; they didn't get into any trouble at all. I was stunned.


So we left London, and headed out of Canada. I never found a yarn store. In spite of having addresses for three coin shops, I never got my poppy quarters (one was gone, one we never found, and one was closed). But, glory hallelujah, I had my first taste of Tim Horton's donuts and coffee. And my second. Wow.


The dogs wanted to find a way to stay.


And I got my first buttertart. Canada is a very cool country.


But we can't live on buttertarts alone, so we headed west, then south for home. The traffic was slow enough that for awhile, we were in the U.S. and the dogs were in Canada. That's the sign marking the border behind Max. But we kept them in the car with us - even after they barked at the customs inspector. They settled down to lick his hand and make friends, so I think they're happy to be home.

Niagara Falls

Slowly I turn, step by step, inch by inch....

As it turns out, "Niagara Falls" is a good thing. The dogs have really settled into the travel routine.


Our first stop was the Johnson Estate Winery. Karen and I had both had their White Ipocras wine years ago, and had always hoped to get more. Karen was especially frustrated in her quest - when she was finally old enough to buy wine, she went to a wine store to ask for the Ipocras, and the clerk was convinced she wanted Boone's. We were really excited when she realized we'd be driving right past the winery - and it turns out the Ipocras is almost as cheap as Boone's! We bought 13 bottles of assorted wine.


And the best part? Johnson Estate Winery is dog friendly! This made it much easier for me to choose my 7 bottles, so it's probably a good business decision.


Well-stocked, we continued on to the Niagara Falls State Park. The dogs headed down to Terrapin Point to view the falls - the Horseshoe Falls, specifically.


Here's a more scenic look at the falls....


And my Fascine Braid Sock was brave enough to take a closer look.


Unfortunately, the dogs couldn't go on the boat ride or the Cave of the Winds tour. But they were an attraction in their own right, and got lots of attention. We walked around to take in a few more attractions - the walking trails, the footbridges, the Hard Rock Cafe, and this statue of Nikola Tesla. He needs a blue sock, don't you think?


Now we're checked into the Delta Armouries hotel in London. It's a lovely place, with an incredibly friendly staff. Max seems to be happy here.