April 13, 2003

• Weekend in Ohio

  
  

  According to the map, the highway 62 route is 37 miles shorter than the Interstate 71 route.  Halfway to Cinncinnati, I realize why the map program recommended the longer way around.  Highway 62 has hairpin turns, hills, and valleys.  At the top of a hill my cell phone beeps.  I have to pull over to check the voice mail, "Quiltnmomi?  This is Daffodilious.  I'm getting ready to leave my house."  I try to return the call, but I the signal is too weak and I'm disconnected before the call is completed. 

  
  

  I pull back onto the highway.  The scenery is incredible.  Every turn reveals another photo opportunity and I daydream about bringing my kids here.  Stand them on the edge of that gorge . . . I picture Tucker falling over the edge, okay, maybe not the gorge.  I'll put them on that rock at the edge of the stream . . . I picture Michael's head going under the water, okay not the rock.  At the top of the next hill, my phone beeps.  "Quiltnmomi?  This is Daffodilious.  Roberto and I are on the way to the airport, I hope you're getting this message."  This time the signal gets through and I connect to her voicemail.  "Daffodilious?  This is Quiltnmomi.  I'm somewhere in Southern Indiana.  Don't worry if I don't answer the phone, the signal is bad." 

  
  

  Back into the valley I drive. 

  
  

  10:33 - arrive at Cinncinnati, Ohio International Airport, which turns out to be located in Kentucky.  I've noticed that airports tend to be - shall we say, flexible - about their address.  Many are in suburbs of the city they serve, but I think this is the first time I've seen an airport that's in an entirely different state. 

  
  

  10:43 - no parking place near door to terminal found on first pass. 
  
  10:50 - no parking place near door to terminal found on second pass. 

  
  

  10:57 - Daffodilious' flight is landing in 15 minutes and I'm still driving around the parking lot!  Quickly grab a space that's moderately far from the door to the terminal.

  
  

  Once inside I check the arrival board and see that the flight is semi-ontime, instead of 11:12, it isn't landing until 11:21.  I regret that I didn't make one more pass around the lot. 

  
  

  I stroll over to the glass wall beside the escalator where passengers rise to meet the people who are there to meet them.  I take my place between a woman in pink exercise type clothes that are stretched beyond the manufacturer's recommended parameters and a uniformed limo driver with long pony-tail and dark glasses.  He holds a white-board type sign.  I consider knocking him in the head.  I could take his sign, change the name to Daffodilious and hold it aloft.  She's never seen me except in pictures and I don't want her - even for a second - to think I might be the woman in pink.

  
  

  My phone rings, "Quiltnmomi??  Are you in the airport?  I'm on the ground!" 

  
  

  "I'm here!"

  
  

  "I'll see you in a few minutes then, oh, and I'm wearing a black trenchcoat."

  
  

  We hang up. 

  
  

  The woman next to me begins to squeal and jump around.  She's waving her arms in the air.  I can't see that she's directing her antics toward any particular person, in fact, it's possible that she's having some exotic seizure.  At least three women in black trenchcoats look our way.  Quickly I hit the send button on my Verizon Wireless.  

  
  

  "Daffodilious?  I am NOT wearing pink!" 

  
  

  Natasha is the best navigator I've ever driven with.  She has the directions to lovingmy40s home memorized and starts watching exit numbers miles in advance of our first turn.  Faith's directions are fabulous.  The white picket fence and friendly dog are exactly as described.

  
  

  Since Natasha and I have had a couple hours to talk, laugh and tell our secrets, we are ready to turn the spotlight onto Faith.  Even though we are new to our realtime partnership, we worked our good-cop/bad-cop routine like pros.  "How long have you been married?  What were you really doing in Africa?  Where is the bathroom!?"  She was a tough character.  She didn't break until we got out the knives.  When Quiltnmomi and Daffodilious start chopping and dicing, no one can withstand us. 

  
  

  Faith's home sits high among the trees, many many acres of trees, through which her husband has made fantastic trails.  He not only drives the tractor along the trail to clear underbrush, he has built wooden benches at overlooks that tempt you to get lost in the contemplation of natural beauty.  We walked the Trail of Three Valleys yesterday after dinner with Faith's parents, who charmed us with excellent food, interesting conversation and a tour of the neatest garden I may have ever seen.  Hill isn't quite as steep as Carol's but I so loved the terraced layout of her space that I'm planning now to incorporate some of her ideas into my own garden. 

  
  

  In addition to being smart, funny and thought-provoking, Natasha and Faith are great company.  Faith's entire family welcomed us and treated us to a weekend that exceeded my fantasy of the wonderful time we would have. 

  • 9:24 am
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