Fin

What started out as a fun idea to keep me distracted and add a little purpose to my 40th year really turned out to be . . . life-changing.  Really--and this is said with no sarcasm and with no small amount of wonder--I think I'm a different person altogether than when I started this journey.  Since embarking on this idea, I've learned . . .

• People will not think you're crazy when you share your idea to begin a quest to find forty adventurous achievements to accomplish in one year.  They will, instead, bring all sorts of ideas (good and bad:  NO TATTOOS) to the table--you will become their reason to try new things, too--and they will do them with you!  Which means . . .
• You will get closer to your friends and family.  This was an unexpected perk, as, in my mind, this was a sort of solitary challenge--but it wasn't at all!  My lovely friends came out of the woodwork to share ideas and to join me in new adventures, and we shared the kind of bonding that is usually reserved for those intense youth experiences--camps and college and times like that.  And in my family, the journeys we took gave us tacit permission to leave worries behind to go on quests--those days were filled with laughs and smiles and hugs that I'll truly treasure forever.
• You'll start enjoying your independence more than you had been.  For the list items that were meant to be done alone--taking classes, cooking, etc.--I was reminded that I really do need the peace and quiet of my own thoughts every now and again.  I'm surrounded by at least two dozen people at all times during my day, bless those needy little creatures who expect performances and attention, and when I struck out on my own, I found those times recharged me, rather than make me feel lonely.
• Bravery IS a quality you possess.  Before this past year, there is no way I would have rounded people up, scheduled events both free and pricey, driven off the beaten path, leaped off platforms suspended in the trees, directed a horse through the wilderness, piloted a rocky little boat, and dozens of other REALLY FUN things to do!
• You will embrace yourself for who you really are.  I LOVE when my kids fangirl or fanboy over their favorite things; if you love something, love it fully!  I love books.  And yoga.  And movies.  And my family.  And my friends.  And my house.  And Lilly Pulitzer.  And vineyards. And monograms.  And getting sweaty at the gym.  And teaching.  And my Sunday School class.  And if somebody plans to mock me for any of those things, then you better come at me with something more awesome than my list, or you'll have to pipe down.
• Reading local newspapers and fliers will become second nature to you.  Before, people would advertise events and activities available in southern Illinois and I would breeze right by them, but when I was on a quest to find forty things to do, I was wide open to suggestion, looking constantly for what our area offers, which reminded me that . . . 
• Southern Illinois is a lovely place to live.  Sometimes.  I'm not a fan of the long, bleak winters here, but fall and spring and summer offer some of the most picturesque views and loveliest conditions to play outside.

Ultimately, the takeaway here was that I am no longer afraid to try anything once, and these are words I never really thought I'd apply to myself, but it's true.  After this year, if there's something going on that I want to be a part of or something new I want to try, I will absolutely march my caboose to wherever it is and do it.  I've learned that life is short; tempus fugit!  Embrace all of it and give everything a go at least one time!  Even if you fail, your friends and family will be there with you and it'll make a great story.

So where does that leave me now?  The people in my life are unwilling to let the list go, that's where! We've determined that we'll keep my list going, everyone else will embark on their own lists, and we'll all keep adventuring!  My new adventures, to be blogged as an epilogue, will be christened The Epiblogue, and it will be a shameless excuse to keep on finding the joy of new quests.  :-)  So stay tuned, dear readers. The journey continues.

My Inner Julia

I loved the movie Julie and Julia--the story of Julia Child's life bracketed with the story of Julie, a writer living in New York in a job she hates but blogging about things she loves.  Her love is Julia Child, and she determines to cook all the recipes in the famed French cookbook in the course of a year--she is successful, despite her small kitchen, hateful job, and stress on her marriage.  It occurred to me that I could also attempt the art of French cooking, and put the effort on my own blog among my other adventures.

So here we go!  I selected these three recipes  to tackle:  cotes de porc poelees, les haricots beurre, and carottes etuvees au beurre, which sound very fancy but which are translated to fried pork, beans in a butter sauce, and carrots stewed in butter.  Butter has been quite the theme this evening, and I have no regrets about that.  My choices reflect the gadgets I have available in my kitchen, the selection of food in my southern Illinois grocery store, and the season.  It is SUMMER, dadgummit, and I'm still clinging to August like a spider monkey, so a light, summery dinner it will be!

It's like a calculus textbook.  Numbers and math and weird instructions.

Here are my assembled groceries.  Nary a carb because butter might as well be its own side, and it's still bathing suit season.  I started by frying my pork chops in vegetable oil until it was time to start a reduction sauce featuring butter, garlic, and sauvignon blanc.  They have to simmer on the stove until the outside is seared, and then they are popped into the oven to finish baking--I really need, as it turns out, a casserole dish that can switch from stove-top to oven without changing pots; I lost some of the sauce in the process.  Oh, well.  Then the carrots had to be scraped and chopped to boil in water, butter, sugar, salt and pepper until the sauce boiled down and the carrots get tender.  Then the green beans--this time, green onions, chicken stock, salt and pepper--and butter!  Timing, as always, is the key to success, so I had mapped out what to start when and, for the most part, it worked out!  The beans took longer than I wanted to get to a good boil, but whatevs.  It was fine.  My kitchen was a fine mess of wrappers and spoons and ALL THE THINGS.  But also it smelled pretty good, so there's that.

In process!  Chops in the oven.

And here's the plated finished product!  I didn't invite people over because I was really worried that I might fail quite spectacularly here, and I didn't want to torture my family and friends with burnt or raw or mushy or bland food, but as it turns out, I should have invited over lots of people!  It was good--savory and light but not bland at all!  Next time there's an occasion, I will make exactly this in the summer, and I might even give Julia's boeuf bourguignon a shot this winter.  I have found that if you have all the pieces ready to go when the recipe calls for them, follow the math, and let the science of food do its magic, the dish will turn out.  Hm.  If only life worked out like that.  :-)

Feeling Saucy

When I travel, there's the agenda set by the travel company, and then there is the agenda that I set for myself while I'm there:  buy fabulous shoes, get a good selfie by a monument, eat the yummy local foods.  In France, the yummy local food always includes (among other things) a croque monsieur purchased from a food truck, to be eaten outside in the sunshine and beautiful Parisian air.

I swoon for the savory, smoky cheese, the creamy sauce, the fresh Black Forest ham, the crusty French bread, and find my mouth watering the whole time I stand in line.  This whole time, I've never considered that I could make this treat for myself at home, and it's the bechamel sauce that held me back, to be honest.  The French are known for their sauces, and it seemed intimidating to try to master the bechamel--but this year has been a testament to the enjoyment that comes with trying intimidating things, so here we go.

The ingredients are assembled . . . 

I discovered that the trick to mastering a French recipe is the timing and the temperatures.  To get the butter, flour, milk, and nutmeg ready, I measured everything out so I wouldn't have to abandon the pot on the stove to go find stuff I need in the fridge or measure while the butter was melting--to the point of "frothing" but not burning.  Oof.  But I did it!  Here's the finished product:

After the sauce is done, I set about assembling the croque monsieur--two thick pieces of French bread, one side with Dijon mustard smeared on it, then Black Forest ham, a Gruyere cheese slice, and top with the other piece of  bread.  Then, you toast the sandwich like a regular toasted cheese until the soft French bread is golden brown, and put the sandwich on a cookie sheet and pour the bechamel sauce on it, and then finally top with fluffy, shredded Gruyere cheese layered over the sauce.  Then, you broil the sandwich until the cheese is bubbly and golden brown.

Into the oven!  The house took on the smell that I know from the French food truck--I was hovering around the stove with a grumbly belly and a very interested nose, really hoping the taste was what I remembered, too.

And it was!  The savory, smoky cheese, the sweet, salty ham, the crusty bread . . . .  Just like I wanted!  The recipe makes two, so one was for dinner and the other was for tomorrow's dinner, and I'm happy to report that something magical happens with the bechamel that doesn't go soggy after being in the fridge, so the next night's dinner was just as delightful.  See?  It's just missing the waxed paper and chilled Schweppes soda to go with it . . . and, y'know.  The Paris city view.  

Delish!  And there's some sauce left over, so I have plans for that later this week . . . .   The 40 List is definitely teaching me to be less intimidated by my kitchen--stay tuned for the next challenge!

Kayaking Queen

This adventure has been on my list for a while--I'd wanted to try this since last summer, when The List adventure was begun.  My dad has been kayaking for several years, so I knew I had access to the equipment and a willing teacher, but last year's summer got away from me before we could make plans to figure this out.

My deadline, however, of August 31st is quickly approaching, so we made time this week, and I'm so glad we did!  It was pretty great!  Dad made arrangements with our friends the Asburys, who have a farm with a pond on it, and we drove out there today.  Dad drove his truck, and Mom and I followed in the Miata.  Which is stick shift.  And I drove.  Because I can.  :-)  I actually had to reverse this time, and after I almost hit the garage door, we were off!

All week, I was picturing a strip cut, because I had some knowledge that the pond was deep (and it is--about twenty feet at its deepest point), but it is a man-made swimming and fishing hole that is longer than it is wide, and winds around with a view of a vineyard and treeline.  The Asburys have a lovely farm house with barns and projects everywhere--I'd love a country house like theirs, with a hammock. And apple trees.  And two gorgeous but friendly and curious dogs--who would point at fun things like quail and frogs.

So after admiring the view and pups for a bit, it was time to put the boats in the water, and Dad and I had practiced this maneuver in our own back yard, so I was prepared to get in without tipping myself into the water.  Dad went first, pushing himself off the ground and into the water with his oar, and then it was my turn.  My craft was a camouflaged kayak, made comfy with a fishing seat and little pedals for my feet, and I pushed off the ground and clung to the dock until I was ordered to let go and start paddling.  Oy.  When you're in a kayak, you are RIGHT THERE by the water, by the way.  It would be SUPER EASY to roll right over and be upside down in the water--knowing this, I let my last wishes be known on Twitter this morning.  But you know what?  It's easier than I thought!  The kayak is pretty sturdy in the water, not rocking back and forth as I thought it might.  So then I focused on paddling down the pond.  Oof.  I thought my arms were pretty strong.  I sort of pride myself on being able to hoss a stack of books down the halls at school, or move my couch around the living room, or do my weights at the gym, but good GRAVY paddling will exhaust a lady.  My left arm is grouchier about kayaking than my right, which I suppose is natural.

Mom and Tricia were under orders to take pics of the event, so here they are!  A word about these pics.  This morning, I had gone to the gym, so my hair was a little sweaty.  Then, we drove the convertible, which meant my hair was sweaty and parted all kooky in the back.  And my dad wanted me to wear a life vest, so I did, but didn't realize that I had one side of it all twisted.  So don't be looking for glamour shots here.  And to those who could SEE my not-cute look and didn't WARN me (looking at you, mama), you are GROUNDED.  Okay.  Here we go . . .

Clinging to the dock.  Which is nice and stationary.

Out on my own!

Totally have this figured out!  Mostly.

"Push with your left!  Pull with your right!"

Those bubbles behind me are NOT from an alligator.  I asked.

So big giant thank yous to Kevin, Tricia, and Madelyn!  I had a great time!!  I'll let you know how well my arms enjoyed the process later . . . .

P.S.  There are quail there!

Over the Rainbow

 My mother sent me a text pic Thursday night:

I've never been to a balloonfest!  Sounds intriguing....  And there are tethered balloon rides--that sounds just about perfect for The List.  Huh.  On Friday, I asked my group of friends (The Squad) if they were interested in going on Sunday, and they were also intrigued.  But, I discovered, the rides are only given on Friday and Saturday night.  Between 6:00 and 9:00.  And they only go up between 25 and 75 feet.  Hmmm.  Last minute trip?  Kiddie-sized balloon ride?  Not entirely sure this adventure is Squad-worthy.  But there IS a balloonfest coming up in October--maybe that one would be more epic.  We all agreed that we'd try again in October.

Case closed.  Bummer.

But then!  Mom called and said she and Dad wanted come with me if we went on Friday, and I couldn't say no to a Hickman family trip--even though the exhaustion was REAL.  I rearranged my Friday evening nail appointments, fed the kitties in a flurry, and we made our way to Centralia!  We plugged in the address to the GPS lady, and we were off--I was hoping this adventure would prove to be fun enough to invite Squad to in October (and maybe Jen could come, too??), and also hoping to get some great pics.

When we arrived, winding through the back streets of Centralia, there was some confusion.  The parking area was a *bit* of a hike from the actual balloons, and we didn't see any balloons anywhere, even as we approached the lake.  There were tons of vendor tents--where I would later buy a lovely necklace with my name on it--but stillno balloons.  Starting to feel like Candid Camera victims, we wound around the tents until we found it!  The tethered balloon!  We paid the lady at the ticket tent and got in line.  Take a look!

It's filled up!  Ready to go!

We're across from this guy....

Gah!  A big bunch of them took off while we were in the basket! 

Looking up into the inside of the balloon.  It's HOT in there....

Great time already!  The rides were $10, and I would totally do it again.

This guy was our captain!  Pilot?  Driver?  Dude who unleashed the fire!

Novelty balloons....

Funnel cake with Dad

And then it was nighttime, and the balloons GLOWED.  

And the bottom line is, we had a great time, we three, and I will definitely do this again.  I took the nighttime pictures with my phone--my camera wanted to lighten the sky, and it was really irritating.  I need to figure out nighttime settings on my camera and get the money shot with it next time. Photography, funnel cake, and heights--great reasons to gather the troops and go have an adventure!

aHj

I fear I might be a little superstitious.  It's true.  I'm not a fan of broken mirrors, I flip face-down coins face-up for other people to find, and I carried a four-leaf clover all over Europe on one of my trips because Dad found one the day before I left.  That said, I have, for years, loved monogrammed things; jewelry, sweaters, jackets, bags, sheets, and, most especially, towels, but I have never ordered or purchased any because I was a little afraid that ordering my initials in print or thread would seal my fate.  Those initials would be mine forever.

This week, I decided to let that most likely unfounded fear aside and placed an order on Etsy for a monogrammed necklace in rose gold.  It will arrive in about ten days from last Tuesday, and will feature my initials:  AHJ, and I will wear it with my rose gold ring and earrings to complete the set. I'm not going to lie; this feels a little dangerous.  Permanent, somehow.  But if this past year has taught me anything, it's that you don't get any fun or enjoyment out of life when you live in trepidation, and I don't want to deny myself the simple things I know I'd enjoy in this very short life.

I'll post a picture of my necklace when it arrives, and it'll be around my neck.  Fearlessly.

Published Author!

I suppose every English teacher secretly wishes she were a published author; day after day, we present the works and celebrate the talents of others, wondering, maybe, if we have what it takes to produce works that someone else might read.

Well, this summer, I had my chance to try my hand at writing for a newsletter that some two thousand readers will receive.  And--those readers are people with whom I (gulp) went to school.  Is there any more terrifying audience?  It was a little like delivering a speech in Mrs. Choate's Public Speaking class before my peers in the old Elverado High School building.  It began with my mother calling to tell me Mrs. MaryAnn Horstmann wanted an article about the time George W. Bush came to my junior high and my friends and I got his autograph.  It's a cute story--we were seventh graders and a little starstruck at the arrival of the son of a VIP (Bush Sr. was vice president of our country at that point [quit doing the math; it was a long time ago]) in our little town of Vergennes, and we preteen girls determined and succeeding in finding a moment to approach him and ask for his signature on our fringey notebook paper.  I think he was genuinely tickled at our request--I distinctly remember the delighted smile--or maybe it was an indulgent one?  Anyway, he signed and we were excited that he did.

So here it is:

I got page four of the Elverado Education Foundation newsletter!  And this letter is sent to all the alumni who contribute or are on the mailing list of the organization--my graduating class, the graduating classes before and after mine, former teachers, and on and on, could be reading my article. Like, right now.  Talk about having a vague audience!  What tone to strike that would engage both former teachers (and therefore graders) of mine and friends alike?  Hm.  I hope that the writing isn't too sweet for the class of '92 (seriously.  Don't be doing the math.) or too chatty for those who taught me how to write formally.

Got a little mention on the cover, too:

So there it is!  Am published in a small but worthy newsletter produced by people who love the school I love, and I'm happy to have a place in its mailings.  It's been kind of a theme this year to actually put my written word out and about--I'm actually blogging for my church's website, too--check it out at www.elkvillechristian.com, under the tab called The Christian Road.  I need to write more than I do over there--but I feel real pressure to make sure those are Blog Worthy Topics that I've prayed over and are worthy of the church's reaching out mission.  

But, at the end of the day, I no longer feel that crippling fear of being heard or read by a large audience, and that, I think, has been the unexpected theme of this 40's list project!  I highly recommend stepping out of your comfort zone from time to time.  You never know whose autograph will be available when you do . . . .

Of Sound Mind and Body

Well, today started out nicely enough.  Went to church, taught the Sunday School class, enjoyed children in charge of the service, had lunch at Mom and Dad's, floated in their pool, took a lovely nap, tweeted with my friends.  Fun things to do!  But then, I created a will.  Not so much fun, as it turns out.

I don't anticipate an early demise, but I do have some assets that need attending to if I do meet an untimely end, and I don't have any documents that instruct anyone what I'd like done with my stuff.  Well, no more!  I now have a document, downloaded and completed, that explains that, should I go on to my eternal reward, I want Jessica Rose Loyd to receive my pearls and mom and dad to receive everything else.  Including Sophie and Dino.

But in filling out these forms and considering what I have that is of value and what persons mean the most to me, I've had to confront the fact that, at forty, things are not what I had planned for myself in my twenties.  While the assets I've gained are completely on track with my game plan, my benefactors are not.  Nothing like considering one's death and unfulfilled goals on a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon to really sort of ruin the lunch and pool bliss.

The fact that keeps me from taking to my bed with the vapors (have never done that!  planning to google how do this . . . ) is that this will, while legally binding, does account for the fact that situations change, and if or when they do, the document can be amended.  So that's comforting, and while I know what plans I have for myself in the immediate future, and the life events that got me here, I'm content, today, to let the other parts fall in to place as destiny will have them fall.


P.S.  I'm adding the MRI I had last October to the 40 List!  Mom and I had a conversation about it, and while it was not a FUN first, it was still a first.  Much like this will.  And, as I am still of sound mind and body, I reserve the right to change my mind!  :-)

P.P.S.  On the advice of my blog readers, I'm adding this addendum about my pearl necklace to explain why it gets top billing among the things in my house that will be dealt with after my passing. The pearl necklace was given to me by my grandmother at my high school graduation as a gold chain with just five pearls strung on it.  After that milestone, my grandma and grandpa, and sometimes mom and dad, gave me individual new pearls for every special occasion after that--birthdays, Christmases, consequent graduations, jobs successfully won, my new home, and pretty much every congratulatory event that came my way after high school.  That pearl necklace, filled completely in now, represents one good memory after another, and it is the one physical thing I own that would break my heart if it got auctioned off.  It is important to me that someone important to me receive it and love it as much as I do, and I can't think of a better young lady than my Jessica Rose.

A Sunday Drive

 Stick shift is DUMB.  Let's just get that out of the way right now.  I learned to drive 127293874 years ago, for the first time, in the family automatic minivan.  And it was good.  Easy-peasy.  Gas for go, brake for stop.

When I conceived of this list idea last year, the stick shift lesson was one of my first ideas, but it has taken me almost the whole year to get the nerve to actually try this.  Today was the day!  Time's a-tickin'!

Mom has a little red Mazda Miata that just happens to be stick shift, so I had a vehicle, and Dad has the patience necessary to teach me this new skill, so I had a teacher, too.  Here we go!  We headed out to the church parking lot to figure out the basics before we got on any actual roads . . . .

Sitting nervously in the driver's seat . . . 

Not how my interior looks . . . 

ALL THE PEDALS.  WHY SO MANY PEDALS???

Haha!  Love this.  Am glowing like a saint in the paintings in the Louvre.  :-)

 Okay.  So once I'm told all the basic facts--push in clutch, step on gas until the needle thing gets to "2," let foot off clutch, and go--we try this out.  Oof.  Do you know how EASY it is to just kill the car?  Like, if you do any of these steps in the wrong order, or if you don't do them to the degree the car likes, it just shuts completely off.  Pictured the engine frowning with its arms crossed.  "NO," it would say.  "NOT LIKE THAT.  Try again, please."  Oy.  Okay.  Just started it up and tried again, and once I mastered the parking lot, Dad and I moved our operations to the cemetery!  Nice and slow, and the occupants didn't mind my tooling around the roads slowly and with trepidation.  From there, we took to the back roads of Elkville, which, in addition to being picturesque farm fields full of tall corn and leafy beans around pretty stripcuts, have oil and chip roads.  Dad knows all the twisty-turny roads and how fast I could go on them, so he gave directions and instructions back there through the mostly empty roads.  Perfect for finding out how to accelerate through the gears.

See?  Wind in my hair!  This is fourth gear!

And the verdict is this:  driving stick shift is not easy-peasy.  Your legs will be tired from tensing up every time you have to clutch--and you have to clutch A LOT.  Am very grateful that I was able to get my license with an automatic car.  That said, very much like the Beretta lesson, there is comfort in just knowing what to do.  One more skill in this world is no longer a mystery to me!  And if I had to, I could get the Miata to DuQuoin or Herrin or Carbondale with my newfound but non-expert skills.  Well.  That is, if I don't have to go in reverse.  Or take off from a dead stop on an incline (your car will roll BACKWARDS).  But other than that, I'm totally ready to chauffeur you to wherever you need to go in a stick-shift car!  :-)  I will practice those other things . . . .

The keychain is a Hawaiian turtle--for good luck!  Appropriate, 

A Possible Mission

Today, I went to see a movie.  By myself.  If I were Captain Jack Sparrow, I'd say I went "by me onesies."  I've never done that before!  In all my forty years, I've never taken myself to a movie without friends, or a date, or family, or a group of some kind with me.  I distinctly remember eating at a restaurant by myself for the first time--it was in college, at my first job--and I found the experience strange, but liberating.  I liked the part about picking my own place, according to my own taste, and entertaining myself by reading or writing or working on homework.

The movie experience was sort of like that.  Strange at first, but a little liberating.  Today was a perfect day for it--golf got canceled because it was raining, so I went to the gym instead, and then decided today was the day to head to the movies alone.  I really, really love going to movies.  Truth. I love the whole experience--using my Stubs card, choosing popcorn and soda or a pretzel or candy or both, picking out the exact right seat, watching the previews, sitting in a dark theater, and letting the story wash over me for two hours or so.  No responsibilities beyond enjoying my snacks and the plot. LOVE it.

But would it be the same without my people?  Hm.  Today, I chose Mission Impossible, not because I am a huge Tom Cruise fan, but because the other choices were not what I had in mind.  In a perfect world, there would have been a lovely chick flick on, but alas.  Trainwreck had "strong language, nudity, sexual content, and ribald humor," and I'm not sure I want to be in a theater watching these things by myself . . . .  The other movies were Minions and Inside Out and scary things, so Tom Cruise it was.  And it was pretty good!

I made a point of ordering my snacks with PURPOSE and choosing my seats according to MY fave place to sit--back right, in those seats on a platform (more leg room, and it feels a little bit like a throne dais :-) ).  After getting prepared, I settled in for previews and people-watching.  Also in the theater on this rainy Wednesday:  two families, an older man by himself, two couples, and two dudes who left not one, but THREE courtesy seats between themselves but then proceeded to talk to each other across the divide.

The movie was what it was supposed to be--shooting, chasing, running, driving, motorcycles, international intrigue.  Quite enjoyable!  But no one to make eye-rolls to when Tom Cruise saved the world by holding his breath for over three minutes or beating up four baddies with his hands and feet in shackles or hanging on to the OUTSIDE of a plane during liftoff.  So that was kinda sad.

Verdict:  I'm glad I went!  Shows me that next time there's a period drama based on a Regency-era novel, and I can't drag anyone else with me, I can totally go it alone.  No more missing out!!

Calculating Your Route...

The forty list is coming together quite nicely!  This week alone, I've gotten two more adventures under my belt and it's just Wednesday!  Busy, busy!

The first adventure involved my mother, who often delivers the communion meditations at our family's church--and she's really good at them, if I do say so myself.  She likes to consider the season, current events, and whatever has been on her mind to be the guiding forces of her meditations, and occasionally she asks me to put together a PowerPoint image to help make her point.  About two weeks ago, she told me, "We need to go to Bald Knob.  I need a picture of the cross."  Well, alrighty then.  "You've never been there--we'll use this trip for your blog!"  Sold!  Let's do it.  I charged up my camera and we met in Carbondale to make the trip.

First of all, I was aware that Bald Knob cross is on some sort of hill.  Like, I knew it was meant to be visible for a decent distance.  But.  But I had no idea just what kind of trek it was going to be to get there, and how we'd see it waaaaaaaay off in the horizon before we were close enough to approach it. Yikes.  We had put it in to the GPS of Mom's car, but Sally (the GPS lady who lives in the screen of the car) gave up on us halfway there.  She got us to the Bald Knob cross ROAD, but not the actual place, so we followed the twisty, turny, no-visibility, narrow stretches of road on kind of a prayer and some instinct.  That road is a little scary.  Maybe even a little Deliverance scary . . . .  Eventually, though, we arrived at our destination (no thanks to Sally), and got some pics!  Behold:

This is where Sally failed us.  But we found it WITHOUT her.

What a spectacular view.  Southern Illinois is a beauty in the summer.

Approaching from a distance.  It was 98,658 degrees that day.  BTW.

The arty shot.  Liking the sun sparkles.

Twisty, turny trails.

Hoping that some of these shots are what she had in mind for whatever her meditation is meant to say.  We'll see!  The journey was worth it, though.  Maybe next time I go, I'll stop at Flamm's on the way and buy some snackage to enjoy on those benches overlooking the view.