By the way, my birthday is Evaluate Your Life Day. Isn't that perfect? No? Thanks a lot, killjoy. Your birthday must be on International Panic Day.

Now on to the trip!

They say life is what happens when you're busy making plans. Never mind that. A Rushing vacation proves that plans happen when you're making life. Er, wait a second, that didn't come out right. I mean, when you're living life to the fullest. Which, I suppose, could include making life, but I'm really off track and making myself uncomfortable.

It has been said by others cruder than I (stop laughing) that when on a vacation planned by Dad, you have to check your watch before scratching your derriere. I don't know about that, but I do know that a trip to New England was very much anticipated and sorely needed.

Last year was a holiday Old England; this year we explore the New one. Which is really the same thing sans fish & chips, castles, links golf .... okay, not really the same. No wonder the Brits were voted out of the colonies by the American Tribal Council.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 10 - LAZY DAY

3:45 a.m. - Don't you love how you can wake up before the alarm goes off, but usually only when you look forward to the day? Any other given workday, a hammer to the temple couldn't get a rise out of me.

	Taking 'MARTA is smarta' to the airport.

5:30 a.m. - Off to New England I go, dragging my pilot case with backpack slumped over my shoulder, walking in the dark to the MARTA subway station down the street from my apartment. I will not miss the fact for the next week that despite the early morning hour, the heat index in Atlanta is still on the high side of Death Valley.

After the non-air-conditioned train ride to the airport, I get to my gate and end up in line behind Gozer the Traveler. As you Ghostbusters fans know, this lady "will come in one of the pre-chosen forms. During the rectification of the Vuldrini, the traveler came as a large and moving Torg! Then, during the third reconciliation of the last of the McKetrick supplicants, they chose a new form for him: that of a giant Slor! Many Shuvs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Slor that day, I can tell you!"

In August 2001, she also wanted a stop in Cleveland.

Hmm, I seem to be cranky as I head out. I don't mean to be such a flibbertigibit. Yep, I'll say it again, this vacation is sorely needed after the stress at work the last month, re-launching the look of the network.

So I'll think positive: Gozer was actually a blessing, since I ended up with an Exit row seat next to the window because of her wrangling. I believe my surprised response to the clerk's question if I wanted it, was "Heck yeah! Gimme that!" Yes, I'm willing to take the responsibility for getting 200 people out of a fireball strewn over six miles of the Shenandoah Valley if it means three more inches of leg room.

Oops. Should have read the fine print. It turns out that the Exit row seat also doubles as the designated Crying Baby for Two Hours seat. Sadly, there are no extra SkyMiles for this assignment.

10 a.m. - Time to land. One of my favorite parts is when I notice how much the air decompresses. Besides having to make that funny face to equalize the air in my ears, I also notice that my water bottle is sucked in tighter than Joan Rivers' cheeks.

Apparently it's been so hot in Hartford the week before I arrived that the writers of the Hartford Courant literally tried to fry an egg on the street (didn't work). I laugh at these Northeasterners who complain about the five days out of the year when temps go over 90 degrees (probably as much as they laugh at us when we prepare for nuclear fallout when a snowflake falls). Come down South, folks, and get six months of it! Maybe then they'll buy some air-conditioners and learn the joys of iced tea.

1 p.m. - Being the good luck charm that I am, though, not long after arriving a cold front moved through and lowered temps by ten degrees, eliminating the humidity and bringing some refreshing rain.

Stayed at the Marriott for only one night, but even still it's always nice to stay at a decent hotel. How can you tell if it's nice? Well, for one thing the top sheet of the toilet paper has been shaped into a triangle. I guess that's for streamlining, but everyone has different cleansing rituals. The only red flag about the bathroom is that there is a scale. They're blatantly making fun of my jolly jiggly upper body, and not in a fun Santa kind of way. I'm suing.

5 p.m. - Dad and Danielle (by the way, for the uninitiated reading this, Dad is my dad, Danielle my stepmom and Pat her mother) were already in Hartford for a wedding involving a coworker, so as they attended it tonight I lay in my room watching my ten channels and ordering room service. That's all I wanted, anyway, on my first night of vacation. Yeah I'm a boring guy. I wasn't going to pick up a camcorder and go downtown filming "Sorority Girls Gone Wild in Hartford"? (although now that I think about it...).

But I had good reason. August 10 is Lazy Day, and I was just obeying the rules.

Another reason to take it easy: I could still watch the Braves game. They lost. I hate them.

I did fit in a good deed along the way, filling up an ice bucket for a nice elderly lady who didn't trust her hand-eye coordination for such a complicated task of hitting the big black button and putting the bucket under the dispenser. Naturally, I immediately negated any positive karma gained by watching Ricki Lake's show on "Juicy Secrets Revealed!" Who knew that Joan used to be John?

SATURDAY, AUGUST 11 - PRESIDENTIAL JOKE DAY

President Clinton was out jogging when a Hooker standing on the corner hailed him. "Hey Mr. President! Fifty bucks!" "No, no." Bill replied with a grin, "Five bucks!" and kept on jogging. This exchange soon became a part of the President's normal routine.
Each day as he'd approach the corner, the hooker would yell out, "Hey Mr. President... Fifty Bucks!" and Bill would holler back, "No, Five Bucks!"
Well, one day, Hillary decided she wanted to go jogging with Bill. As they neared the corner, Bill suddenly realized what a terrible scene was about to happen.
Sure enough, there was the hooker, and just like all the other times she smiled and waved and yelled out, "Hey Mr. President...See what you get for Five Bucks!"

Okay, so that's out of the way. Sorry, Presidential Joke Day doesn't fit in entirely with this trip, but they can't all, can they?

The curse of summer 2001 travel: There's not enough people taking holidays away from home, but for those who do the hotels are going to screw 'em. Taxes out the wazoo, and an "energy tax" at the Marriott that was four dollars for one night! And that doesn't even come close to the $9.99 charge for their 'artistic films'. You know, for, uh, Dr. Dolittle. Yeah, that's the ticket.

11 a.m. - Today's drive is to Bennington, Vermont, via Stockbridge, Massachusetts in order to see the Norman Rockwell exhibit, though we were thinking of food the entire time. Why? Because on the way we decided to find an IHOP or somewhere for breakfast along the interstate. Four miles down the road we saw a Denny's, but Dad opines that he'd rather not stop so soon, getting down the road a bit. Bad idea. He forgets that we're not in the land of grits anymore, where two Waffle Houses sit at every exit.

Never seeing anything, we ended up on the Massachusetts Turnpike with one exit every 30 miles. By the time we got to Stockbridge, a cute little town in the Berkshires of western Mass., there's an arts & crafts fair going on downtown, leaving us with nowhere to get something to eat anytime soon with any ease. And you know that when Rushings don't eat, Rushings hate the world. But we still decided to see the Rockwell exhibit first.

We finally made it to lunch in Pittsfield, a few minutes north of Stockbridge, at a chain restaurant called Friendly's (think Shoney's). I finally had my Big Fat Greasy Colossally Humongous Tremendous Burger (no cheese; too fattening) partnered with an artery-clogging basket of french fries and Diet Coke pumped directly into my bladder. Yummy in my tummy, it?s American cuisine at its finest. Meanwhile, we talked to a nice lady from the area who gave us some advice for stops in New England. None of which we actually took. But she was nice anyway.

	The Norman Rockwell Museum

REWIND: The Norman Rockwell exhibit Norman Rockwell: Pictures for the American People. I missed the show of the famous illustrator of Americana when it was in Atlanta two years ago, and regretted it. But now, seeing it while in Rockwell's hometown was even better. The audio tour described many of his most popular and intriguing works, some in his own words that provided an amusing back story.

Unfortunately we couldn't find a book that listed the story about all of his works, as Dad hoped to find something on "The Rookie," a 1952 drawing of a young ballplayer in the Red Sox locker room. I bought a copy of it.

Then we headed to Vermont to see some gay weddings and egg that wanker traitor Jim Jeffords' home.

Actually it's quite scenic and a very enjoyable area, so Jeffords is a lucky goon.

4 p.m. - We stayed at the Fife & Drum Motel in Bennington (pop. 9,500), in the southwest part of the state. Actually, the state's so small, if you went two miles east you'd be in the southeast part, two miles north you?d be in Canada and two miles west you?d be in 1922. How could we tell we were straying from civilization during this trip? By the fact that our cell phones didn't have service most of the time until we got to Boston. As Danielle quipped: "Do I really have a nation-wide plan?"

Bennington, Vermont: "Bennington, college town [Bennington College and Southern Vermont College, one of the most exclusive in the country] and commercial focus of Vermont's southwest corner, lies at the edge of the Green Mountain National Forest. It has retained much of the industrial character it developed in the 19th century, when paper mills, grist mills, and potteries formed the city's economic base. It was in Bennington, at the Catamount Tavern, that Ethan Allen organized the Green Mountain Boys, who helped capture Ft. Ticonderoga in 1775." Source: Fodor's

The Fife & Drum is no Marriott, but homely in its comforts. The yard was welcoming with some chairs and rocker facing the very scenic Green Mountains, and had some games to keep the kids busy (shuffleboard, tetherball, croquet).

There were more channels on the boob tube, but the bed was a full and the showers were 'smallish' at best. Sorry, smelly feet, you're only getting wet with whatever is left from my selfish upper body, 'cause heck if I can bend over in that shower. To wash anything below my waist I ended up in a catcher's crouch realizing that I'm not five-foot tall anymore and my arms are short. Descended from apes my booty.

Nobody told me that there are so many daggum gnats up here! Buzzing around by the dozens and driving me wild, I began to pray for a telemarketer to call to take the edge off!

6 p.m. - Danielle's mother, Pat, arrives, joining our little happy fun time parade of New England. Driving from Michigan, it took her most of the day, and with a stop in Utica, N.Y., to drop off grandson Alex.

We very much enjoyed having Pat along; Danielle because it's her mom, me especially because I welcomed the variety of new conversation that she brings. And she's also a fellow compatriot of the overnight shift, plying her nursing trade there for several years.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 12 - MIDDLE CHILD'S DAY

As a middle child (since my sisters are twins, I consider them both the younger siblings), today was most definitely my day.

9 a.m. - Dad and I set out for our side trip to Cooperstown, New York, for a visit to the Baseball Hall of Fame, which is obviously a must for any sports fan. Pat and Danielle do something they have been looking just as forward to, driving to Deerfield, Massachusetts to visit the home of the Yankee Candle Company, then exploring little towns along the return trip.

I take the wheel on the round-trip journey over and around hill after hill of two-lane roads in the sticks, attempting to figure out how the heck AAA South determines the shortest route. The only thing missing was a note telling us that if we passed by Farmer Joseph?s Old Oak Tree we?ve gone too far.

Plus, being off the beaten path means no gas stations, which means no readily available drinks like we're used to. Even worse, when we do find a convenience store in Troy, they don't carry Hostess snack cakes! Oh, the humanity!

These little towns know their bread and butter is tourism, esp. female-oriented; half the homes seem to be Bed & Breakfasts, 3/4 of the businesses in Hoosick, N.Y. are antiques, another 1/8 is an appraiser to tell you that the antique you just bought is worthless, and the other 1/8 are farmers selling homegrown vegetables.

Pat and Danielle spend much of the time sightseeing along the road, marveling at the homes and B, with Danielle pondering starting her own. She'll have to hire help, though, since Dad has already promised that he won't be doing any work during retirement. I certainly don't blame him. It would be weird enough having different people in your home every day. Must be like what if felt like working in the Clinton White House.

	Baseball's Mount Olympus

11 p.m. ? Along the lines of the previous paragraphs, the village of Cooperstown is a quaint little hamlet nestled in the mountains of eastern New York, far from the hustle and bustle of city life. It is a very tourist-oriented town, with downtown full of baseball shops and theme restaurants.

The HOF is very crowded, but the dozens of cuties working in the town keep my mind occupied (actually I found this to be the case for the entire trip, and pretty much every waking second of my horribly single life; my radar's always on). Also, the three floors of the Museum and the six trillion treasures within are enough to fill a full day of reliving the ?good ol? days,? which far too often seems to be before I was born. I?m wondering if this is offensive.

Navigating the Hall is a bit tricky. It's not clear as to how to see it properly - you wander about the three floors sans clear markings or directions that normally aid in following the order of time or importance (and the map in the brochure isn't much help). But that's a minor complaint; we managed to find our way about. Besides, we were just glad to be here.

	Mural up front in the Grandstand Theater showing The Baseball Experience.

Everyone's a fan there, there's memorabilia galore and all of our idols are on display. I'm amazed by all the stuff they manage to cram in there, from The General History of Baseball to the Negro Leagues to the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League (think A League of Their Own) to the music of baseball, not to mention the numerous collectibles on display. We spent plenty of time in the Hall of Fame Gallery featuring bronze plaques of every Hall of Famer.

The entire place is a feel-good experience, from the Major League stars to the Baseball at the Movies display to the cheesy video at the beginning that serves as a reminder that a simple game played at an easy pace can provide decades of enjoyment.

2 p.m. - For lunch I shamed myself, going completely against the day's baseball-theme protocol. Dad had a couple of chili dogs, but I chose a Tuna Club on wheat. I didn't even get any nachos. I'm just not a man's man, I guess.

In a redeeming effort, after lunch I did a bit of manly shopping, buying a 1959 card of Ted Williams (part of an 80-card set) and a '71 Hank Aaron, along with a few cheaper ones of Greg Maddux, Chipper Jones and Nomar Garciaparra. How could I not? If not there, where? I was in Cooperstown, for goodness sake!

Did You Know? Vermont trivia: First state admitted to the Union after ratification of the U.S. Constitution - March 4, 1791. First state constitution to outlaw slavery in 1777. First state constitution to abolish the requirement that voters must be property owners in 1777. First U.S. Patent, signed by George Washington, was issued in 1790 to Samuel Hopkins at Pittsfield, VT for making potash from wood ashes. First state to elect a woman as Lt. Gov., Consuelo N. Bailey, elected in 1954. First Revolutionary War soldier to shed British blood at the Battle of Lexington on April 19, 1775 was Vermonter Solomon Brown, who fired the first effective shot in the Rev. War. Source: Historic Bennington area visitors map and guide

5:30 p.m. - Back in Bennington, Dad and I took in a couple of historical sites in the town.

	Inscription: "Is that Jennifer Lopez? Hubba hubba!"

The most prominent marker in town is the Bennington Battle Monument, commemorating the Aug. 16, 1777, Revolutionary War battle where the Americans under Gen. John Stark defeated a British expedition led by Gen. John Burgoyne. That the battle actually took place just across the border in New York is a minor fact. Remember, the entirety of New England is the size of my apartment complex, so a thing being in different states doesn't have the same effect as down South.

It was here (actually, there, at the battle site) that Stark urged his militia to fight by imploring them: "There are the redcoats; they will be ours or tonight Molly Stark sleeps a widow!" The Americans' victory ultimately helped lead to the surrender of the British at Saratoga, N.Y., less than two months later and turn the tide of the War.

The obelisk-shaped Monument was the tallest of its kind in the world when completed in 1891; at 306 feet it is still the tallest structure in Vermont. I'm nonplussed. The Monument might also be 304 feet. I keep getting conflicting reports, and I?m not willing to climb to the top and drop a tape measure.

Behind the Old First Congregational Church - less than a mile from the Monument - is the Old Burying Ground. It is this cemetery wherein lies the grave of Poet Laureate Robert Frost and his family (Frost's epitaph reads "I had a lover's quarrel with the world.") Also in the Old Burying Ground are the graves of the founders of Bennington, five Vermont governors and many veterans of the Revolutionary War (including one whose tombstone says that he died after being kicked in the head by a mule).

6 p.m. - After meeting up with the ladies at the motel, we set off for some some Chinese for dinner (the food, not the people).

At the request of the ladies we stopped at the three covered bridges in Bennington, all within a mile of each other over the Walloomsac River. They all look about the same but provide different looks from the river, with one at the edge of a picturesque waterfall and another providing a great view of the Green Mountains in the distance. I'll admit - in a manly way - that I can see the draw of the structures. They're certainly a step up from cold concrete spans.

Tomorrow we continue on to Maine!

Cool beans, Jefferino, shall we continue?