Friday, February 6, 2009

Project 365, Day 29 (1/29/09) Views from the dashboard.

Made that 3-hour trip again today. This time with Marc and the kids. Dropped the kids off with Marc's parents (God bless them, they are always there for us when we need them.) and headed up to the funeral home for the "viewing".

Remembering times I shared with grandpa, along with being in and driving through my old stomping grounds made me reflect quite a lot on days gone by. Seeing places I ate at, worked at, played at, etc. made me realize just how much has changed in my life over the years. (Happens to the best of us.)

I snapped a few shots on the drive back to Ron & Carol's of different places that had some meaning to me.

Wheelers Restaurant, where my grandma worked for many years. My Mom and aunt used to meet up for coffee here, with my sister, me, and my three cousins in tow. Some of the things that went on during these visits... well, I'm surprised they let us hellions back in, to be honest.

I recall one time when my cousin Jamie was playing with a mayonaisse packet and ended up shooting out the contents into my unamused aunt's foofy hairdo. Another time, my two other cousins were fighting over a creme doughnut, and half of it somehow ended up hitting a wall. Good times.


A&W, one of my first jobs. When I had my permit, Grandpa would pick me up and let me drive his big car home. He didn't even dig his fingernails into the dashboard like my mom did.


Standish Speedway... My dad & uncle used to race there...


Wilson's Cheese...sort of a landmark for my hometown of Pinconning. (Told you I was a small town girl.)


Purtell's Restaurant... When I was a little girl and my parents were still married, we used to go to church in Pinconning every Sunday morning. Church is torture for a little kid, you know? It's hard to sit still on a hard church pew for so long. So my mom and dad would tell us if we could make it through service without causing any trouble, we'd go to Purtell's for breakfast after. (They also have awesome ice cream here.)


Pinny Food Center... Another Pinconning landmark. Almost every kid from Pinconning has probably either worked here, or at the next place I'll mention.


Deer Acres... This was my first job beyond babysitting. I worked here one summer in the stifling ticket prison, er, booth. In order to enter the booth, I had to walk through a pen full of deer (they were there for feeding & petting, hence, the "Deer Acres"). But before doing that every morning, I had to pick up the cash box and a gigantic box of ice cream cones that I would take to my booth, fill with seed or corn or something, and sell to folks for 50 cents each so they could feed the deer.

Do you honestly think those deer did not know what was in that box? Because they did. And every morning, I had to manuver my way through Bambi and her gang, getting roughed up by these furry critters because I was literally carrying a box of bait through their pen. Most days, by the time I reached my wooden shack, the box of cones looked like it'd been run over by a Mack truck. Not to mention, the "door" to the booth was this rickety old thing that would often swing open and let a deer or two in. Yes, they'd actually come in the shack. Then they would bury their head in the big barrel of corn, and I'd have to play animal handler and get them out.

So... the next time your co-workers are annoying you, just remember that at least they've probably never knocked you down on the breakroom floor and wrestled a doughnut from your hands.


The Turkey Roost. My one & only waitressing job. They made you wear WHITE from head to toe, then gave you four plates overloaded with scalding hot gravy and cranberry sauce to balance without a tray. Fun!

If you ever pass this place on M-13 in Kawkawlin, stop by for their awesome turkey dinner and top it off with some strawberry shortcake with homemade biscuits. You won't regret it. :)


"Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things." ~Pierce Harris, Atlanta Journal