Ten Years Ago Today

On this date in 2001 I departed Northampton to begin my drive across country to meet my then wife who have moved almost two months ahead of me. I piled the last of the belongings from our home, my beloved Niya cat (5/1995 - 12/2010) and a heavy heart.

The next morning as I was leaving Buffalo, news of the first attack made my ears. An already surreal experience suddenly became more so than I could have ever imagined. I wrote an email to friends most nights from the road. I am pasting that collection of ramblings, unedited here. Make of it what you will.

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My Travels Thus Far – September 12, 2001

Hello all,

Well. To say that my last few days in Northampton were surreal would be an understatement only made more surreal by driving yesterday.

I left Mass on Monday morning, landing in Buffalo later that day. I was entertained by my friend and their lovely daughter, fed a wonderful meal and had a good sleep. Well, good except that like a child my cat woke me for no apparent reason at 2:30am. Darci and I blithely chatted in the morning with no tv on so I had no idea what my day would bring on

Tuesday morning.

I plotted my day's journey expecting to land in Elkhart Indiana to stay at my brother-in-law's. I checked voicemail and had already received 2 messages informing me of event. I called Chris who filled me in while I listened to reports on the radio.

As I traveled west listening to the reports I felt like I was lost in "The War of the Worlds" as I had no picture of what was happening. At times it was had to drive because growing up in NYC it was impossible to imagine that the towers were gone. It seemed too terrible, too unlikely, too frightening in the unknown of it all.

Upon landing in Elkhart I finally saw the pictures. I was grateful that I was so tired, too tired to have too much emotion.

Today, Wednesday I landed in Milwaukee, a slight detour from my destination to see my mentor. So far it's been a lovely visit and Niya is especially making their home, hers. Except for their dog, who wants to be her friend (he's a 9-year-old miniature collie who's losing sight

and hearing and has an injured leg). I intend to head out fairly early in the morning and my goal is to make it to Des Moines Iowa. The day after that I hope to end in North Platt Nebraska. Depends on caffeine intake, enough sleep and how much my cat objects to the hours in the car.

I will continue to update when I can.

Travels – The Next Installment 14, September 2001

Hello dear ones,

As I continue my drive National Public Radio has been a consistent companion along with my mostly sleeping cat. Occasionally Niya will comment on apparently nothing at all, perhaps she disapproves of my music choices, or is voicing distress over our political state.

I have surpassed all my goals for driving so far. As of today, Friday, I have driven over 2000 miles! The views have been amazing so far. The variety and beauty of this land is so vast. Indiana is unbelievably flat and filled with cornfields. The route from the South Bend, IN area to Milwaukee WI was mostly boring, crowded, citified and had way too many tolls! Niya especially hated the tolls - I had to open the window each time, which elicited, each time, a disdainful yowl. However, leaving Milwaukee and traveling the southwest section of Wisconsin was really how I think of Wisconsin - gently rolling hills, farms and cows.

Iowa was so incredibly gorgeous. Lush hills and valleys, absolutely bucolic, green, the living vision of fertility. The same day I left Milwaukee and drove through Iowa my goal had been to make to Des Moines, but I was in a groove and kept driving til I has in Omaha Nebraska, 525 miles total! I found a slightly skuzzy motel room with a lovely view of a construction site right in the "back yard". I realized I still had not seen one plane up in the skies the entire trip.

Today I drove with the aim of ending in Cheyenne, Wyoming. The evening before I could not believe how boring, industrial, and ugly Omaha was, at least what I had seen of it. I flopped in the bed and was blown away by the fact that I was in Nebraska. It seemed so weird. I mean Nebraska! But oh how wrong I was about the beauty that Nebraska holds.

Driving through the state was incredible (I think I am so road tired that I am running out of adjectives - sorry!). I had thought that in Iowa one could see for miles - it's nothing compared to the land view in Nebraska. It was like looking out the ends of the earth. What's really amazing is that you are not looking from the vantage point of height like in the New England; it's all so level. Sometimes the large expanse of nothingness (not truly of course, but no cities, no buildings, etc) seemed scary, claustrophobic. There was a small farm, small house and a barn or two surrounded by acres and acres of tilled land. And beyond the tilled land - nothing, except for the highway on one side.

And the view of the skies! So awe inspiring. I could see the storm I was driving into for miles ahead. When it seemed like I was right under it, I still wasn't, but also to the right I could see beautiful clear skies with wispy clouds. The vista was so all encompassing of the different weather conditions. Further into the state hills appeared with shrubs scattered on the surfaces. In the distance the shrubs looked like a man's stubble on the planes of a face. About 40 miles from the border, up on the left is a large silhouette of a coyote up on the hill. Quite amusing.

Oh then Wyoming! So beautiful. Late in Nebraska and continuing into Wyoming the landscape is not as flat but marked with striking outcroppings of rock forming shapes and ledges. The road often takes such a gentle climb it's almost unnoticeable - except for the huffing and puffing of the truck. In Medicine Bow National Forest I drove through more rain, this time light, and then to my right the most incredible rainbow I think I've ever seen. It seemed so much wider than any other. Also I was able to see both ends! So beautiful and magical. In Arlington WY, there is an "A" up on a hill - I suspect it's not a state/city-sanctioned thing but it was amusing.

There were times where I am sure I saw more cattle than all the people on the road for at least 100 miles. Cows in all sorts of colors have been everywhere, along with sheep and bison (buffalo). I also saw deer or perhaps elk along side the road much later in the day. I have seen seagulls so far from a body of water. In Wyoming there was a body of water with lots of red floating somethings. The only thing I could think of was cranberry bogs.

Today I landed, finally, in Rawlins, Wyoming. I drive way past my goal by about 120 miles. Today mileage was 631. I was quite exhausted after all that. When checking into the hotel (much nicer than yesterday's) my hands were still vibrating. I have approximately 1150 miles to go. I don't know if I can keep the pace of the last two days - if I can I will be in my new, temporary home on Sunday and in the arms of my beloved.

Travels Continue 18 September 2001

Hello everyone

Sorry to be so long since the last post, I tried fruitlessly to post on Saturday night from Winnemucca Nevada but to no avail.

When I last left off I was in Rawlins, Wyoming, staying at a very nice Sleep Inn, a driveway away from a 24-hour family truck stop restaurant and gift shop. Gotta love the road. The morning fog was so thick that I could not see the interstate or the mountains just yards away to the south.

It was hard to imagine any fog could be that thick. After a filling but mediocre truck stop breakfast Niya and I became one with the road once again. After a short time on the road I passed a sign for the Continental Divide, elevation 7,000 ft. Wow. Here the area surrounding the road for miles was flat with mountains suddenly sweeping up, particularly to the south. Again the sky appears so vast out here. Today the sky was clear (once that pesky fog burned off, which it had by the time I finished breakfast!) with no sign of rain anywhere. Wyoming is incredibly beautiful. I want to return and spend time finding the towns that I know are contained within the twists and turns the roads off the interstate take.

As I was driving off to the right I passed a single elk or antelope or whatever member of the type of species occupies that area. He was so beautiful and close that I could see the markings on his horns as a buzzed by at approximately 80 miles per hour. (The speed limit is 75 mph in Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, and Nevada - I wasn't speeding! honest. Okay those moments when I hit 82 or better maybe one could consider that speeding.) The animal was so still and beautiful in the midmorning light. The towns spread out more and more as I drove west and the mountains came into better view. In New England the mountains are so covered with tall growth that one doesn't see much of the crags and wrinkles in the rock that forms the massive eruptions. Out west in the distance the mountains seem to show the years of millieum written with their jags and folds laid bare to sun and shadow. The earth shows subtle changes in the reddish brown that become clearer as you drive closer, though it seems one is always still so many miles away from them.

Driving toward the town of Rock Springs the mountains jump alive with new colors, like a wide paintbrush clumped irregularly has colored the surfaces with white, taupe, and chestnut. Again the mountains are bare with little to interrupt the horizontal stripes. It is so beautiful and so startlingly to approach a town of some size for the first time in hours upon hours of traveling. The town's name while trite is so appropriate, the mountains seem to suddenly emerge in front of one while driving a previously flat forward view.

Somewhere along this route I saw a black shape on the side of the road and as I came closer I realized it was a cow, far from any others in a position that could only mean that he or she had wandered too far away and was now dead. This particular dead animal was sad to me, though I had seen so many animals killed by humans safely contained in steel. Maybe because cows are a herd species and this beast seemed so much closer to the road than other bovines I had seen.

Saturday afternoon I crossed into Utah, which seemed like a milestone in traveling this large expanse. For the first time this trip the mountains are right upon me and I am driving in what feels like a crevice between rock faces. Here the mountains show their crags but also have trees springing up and like colorful plumage on birds these trees are announcing autumn with yellow, bronze and red disturbing the green. Rather suddenly it seemed I was on the crest of what had surely been a large basin, which is now Salt Lake City with what just has to be a shrunken lake. As I entered the city limits I saw my first planes since I entered the Buffalo, New York region early Monday evening. Even though planes flying is so commonplace, especially for someone raised in New York City, which seems to always have at least a half dozen planes in the air at any given moment, today it seemed such an odd site and at the same time a triumphant gesture of new beginnings.

And then the lake. Huge and blue with sail boats, motorboats cruising. But again I couldn't help feeling that a million years ago this huge body of water was hundreds time this size. Though it's a salt-water body, the smell is of sulfur and not altogether pleasant. Not as strong as the sulfur springs I remember from my last drive out west. Since that trip was about 27 years ago I can't remember what state this was in. The piles of salt are huge, reminding me of the snow piles in parking lots of shopping malls in New England. These mounds are easily 4-5 train cars long and about 3 cars high. At one point there is the lake all the way right with train tracks the next few feet over, then a canal of water, then Interstate 80 heading west, another canal of water, the Interstate heading east bounded by more water. It's hard to believe that the road I'm driving on is solid enough for me to be on with my truck loaded with the remainder of my Massachusetts belongings causing it to sit at least 3 inches lower than usual.

Soon the landscape changes again and it is flat, flat, flat, with mountains so far in the distance that they seem to belong to another state. I've entered the Great Salt Lake Desert and the Bonneville Saltflats. To each side of the road is sand and salt with the only other color being the stones and rocks that are mostly black adding stark contrast. It feels wind blown like a beach but the only water is to the north, which one can't see from the road. In fact in looking a map now (to help recall the trip) is when I noticed that there is another lake.

Near the border there is a rest stop and my curiosity and the realization that I may never be here again cause me to do something I haven't done the entire trip. I stop. I get out of my truck for something other than gas, food or sleep. One can walk on the salt flats here. Perhaps it is a need caused by my alternative persona who is Tuareg, a people who harvest and trade salt. After parking I walk on asphalt, cement, pebbles and then the salt. It is hard and crusted, baked into a solid mass. There is a family with several kids being silly and running around, and making designs with the dark pebbles on the stark salt. It reminds me of recipes for things like salt-crusted cod. I reach down to try to scrap a few grains, it takes great effort. I rub the grains between my fingers, coarser than table salt, but nowhere near the size or clearness of gourmet salt from France.

I return to the truck happy I stopped, and happy that I am ten miles from Nevada.

Next chapter - Nevada the land of nothing.

The Journay Almost Complete – Nevada 18 September 2001

Hello again my patient readers,

Crossing the border into Nevada is a bit surreal. After the great nothingness of the Great Salt Desert there is the early foreshadowing of Nevada. There are casinos within the first few miles, and then nothing again. Only after driving about, oh maybe 100 miles do you come to a town of any consequence, Elko. There isn't much. Of course after all the times I've seen this during my journey you would think I would be used to it. Maybe it's because I grew up in New York City, but I continued to be surprised at how much nothing there could be in a town. Actually Elko had a "strip" with stores, strip malls and what-have-you but beyond what you could see I suspect there wasn't a lot more. To the south of the interstate there was nothing visible, to the north was the strip and I'm sure some side roads off into large stretches between homesteads. To the east and west the interstate. My goal for the day was Winnemucca, which I did succeed in reaching, 647 miles from the start of my day. Between Elko and Winnemucca the only town of note was Battle Mountain with billboards announcing the casinos. I cruised past doggedly in pursuit of Winnemucca.

I found a very decent place to spend the night but before sleeping decided that I really needed dinner. Okay I confess my brain was road dead. I got back in my truck and drive about a half a mile up the road to the Red Lion Inn/Casino/Restaurant. It was bright, smoky and noisy. Here I was finally in front of slot machines and unfortunately those one-armed bandits had elevated themselves beyond a simple pull of a lever. There were buttons and multiple lines upon which one *could* win. My eyes were tired and I needed food. There was to be no channeling my grandmother tonight. (For those that don't already know, my grandmother was famous for her low-level but consistent gambling - bingo, Atlantic City trips and lottery tickets. The day before she died she was in Atlantic City - she had won $400 that day. She came home and died before breakfast.)

Waking up on Sunday I knew I had so many fewer miles to go, and though Niya had persisted in keeping me barely asleep from 2:30am to 4:30am I was eager to complete my trip. I found a wonderful place for breakfast. If you ever find yourself near Winnemucca during anything resembling breakfast hours run, don't walk, to The Griddle. Great food,nice atmosphere, cheap prices and large servings. I would go back in a heartbeat even though it would mean being in Nevada.

The drive through Nevada on Saturday was remarkedly dull and apparently devoid of rational thought as it was almost impossible through the entire state to find an NPR station. Perhaps I was just plain tired of driving but it was hard to rejoice in the landscape here. There was just nothing. I drove for hours without seeing any indication of life form, not even cattle.

Today, Sunday, the mountains seemed more colorful. I listened to Patsy Cline and early kd lang. It seemed the best possible music for the day. Here too the colors of sand and white salt seemed prevalent. More endearing and less destructive forms of graffeti abound on the road - black rocks are formed into names and sayings on the sides of the road. Unfortunately they were hard to read if they are too close the road - the distant ones easier to read while speeding by.

Since I hit Reno in the morning I suspect I missed the glitter but perhaps I will see it another time. Here again I saw a couple of planes, still an infrequent enough sight that it surprises me. Suddenly I thrust into the Sierra Nevada mountain range inside the Tahoe National Forest. Here I am riding at great heights along the sides of mountains with bright rivers on one side and then the other. California, I am now in the state that is to be my home. It's hard to fathom - I'm here already and I'm finally here - all at once. Chris and I are talking on and off as I get closer. The drive becomes less important and the destination is everything. Almost. Suddenly I see hills again and again they are so different. Here the mounds are wheat colored, deep yellow, with the surface looking plush and velvety, mottled with trees,tall and deep colored. Again I marvel at how different these lumps of rock and earth can look. And then water to my right, stretched out before me, beckoning. Yes, this part the landscape is the thing that makes being on the coast, the west coast so marvelous. I can be so near water.

Chris and I agree to meet at off an exit near her office. I see the little red car she's been driving compliments of our friend Tracy (Suzi's partner). She gets out of the car, the wind blowing hard against her and I open my door to come out. We hold each other and I can feel her belly shake as she cries. She tells me that I smell good and remarks how long my hair has gotten. We release, go back to our respective cars and I follow her to the Richmond Field Station, University of California Berkeley - the place that has brought us both here, far from what had been home. 3207 miles from home.

Random Leftovers Thoughts from The Road 20 September 2001

Hi again. Bet you thought I was done ;-)

In Milwaukee I got to eat in the new baseball stadium. Obviously this was during the moratorium on sports so the field was quiet. This stadium is beautiful and smaller than the old one to enhance the intimacy and the immediacy of the game. It was built on the same plot as the old one but where the actual old ball field was is where they are building a little league field so the kids "can play where the greats played".

In Iowa: The Museum of the Danish Immigrant. Also, a Danish Windmill

Somewhere, sorry I don't remember: The Museum of the Mountain Man (honest!)

Billboards in Nevada: "Police hide behind these" (I saw two of these)

"Keep your eyes on the road - hard isn't it"

"The King of Cha-ching" - for the Silverado Casino, you just have to say it out loud - I did!

An exit in Nevada (recalled especially for Ann): Ramusen Road (I may have the exact spelling wrong)

In the middle of the Great Salt Desert in the distance is this tall narrow structure, I can't figure out what it would be, but I'm guessing something to do with radar, sonar - one of those -ars. But no, it's "art". A tall pole with various sizes of balls or globes painted with odd colors jutting out at irregular intervals and distances from the pole. Looks like it was done in 50's or early 60's but who knows. Also out here a random american flag stuck in the middle of nowhere. In the distance I think it was placed there for the recent world events, but upon driving closer this flag is faded and ragged - I have no idea why it's there.

Marking the mountains with initials of a city name is fairly common. I had seen what I thought was an unofficial marking in Arlington WY, I still think it was not a sanctioned marking as it was quite faint. I saw a distinct "C" in Carlin Nevada, and an "L" in Lovelock Nevada.

The colors in the mountains in all the states vary so much and are beautiful in their complexity. Peachy oranges, terra cotta, dusty mint green, ochre, gray-green, green, brown, taupe, white, chestnut, raspberry sherbet pinks and every shade leading into and out of these.

While I hadn't been worried about being on the road in terms of my safety (though others were) I was concerned about my ability to drive this distance and a tad antsy about my sanity with this much time alone (no offense to Niya). I felt completely safe in terms of bodily harm, getting scammed, etc. The truck held up fine. Until this trip I hadn't driven farther than about 250 miles/4 hours by myself. This trip took 7 days (Monday -Sunday) and 3207 miles. My shortest day was just over 200 miles, my longest day was 647 miles (which is way toooooooo long by the way). I have learned that my comfort zone is about 400-475 miles in a day, although the day of 525 miles wasn't too bad actually.

I have learned why people who only talk to animals the bulk of their day sound the way the do. You get used to the non-response so your linguistic style changes. That was scary. ;-) On Saturday I started to truly get a little lonely but at the same time more comfortable being by myself. I think that I could do a trip like this again, even longer and maintain my sense of humor. Next time I will take a little voice recorder because there was so much detail I forgot, even when I got to write the same night.

Well I guess that's probably all I can remember. Thank you all for listening to my little (okay, long) monologue.

Now that you no longer have to send travel prayers, Chris and I would like you to think good home hunting thoughts. I have seen 8 places already (today is Thursday morning) and driven by a few others. Still hunting. Once settled I will send you our new address and phone number(s) and extend invitations for you to visit, though I can't guarantee premier sleeping accommodations - hope you like the floor and sleeping bags ;-).

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Hope you enjoyed the trip.

love

Samantha

True closure involves many ties

While in the Dayton area I was lucky enough to see a number of the dear friends I made out there, which was very satisfying while bittersweet. To those of you that I did not get to see, you remain in my heart and I look forward to keeping in touch via other means. To those I did manage to see, all I can say is wow, it was so so good to see your faces.

On Thursday I headed out to a storage place to pick up my trailer, delighted to find it directly across the street from Coffee Movers, where my belongings had been stored for over a year. Except. It turns out there were to be had at that place. U-H*ul had apparently called me to say that the pick up location had changed but they didn't really make that clear in the brief call I had. Sigh. So off I drove to an actual U-H*ul site to pick one up. As I drove down the road I passed Westbrook, which caused my heart to skip a beat, because that is the road that Her Geekyness lived when we met, the house that I helped pack up so that she could move to California to be with me. As I continued on it occurred to me that I was going to the place where Jeriann and I had gone to buy more boxes during that adventure which took place just a hair over 6 years ago. Freaky. At that point I decided the gods have a strange sense of irony.

It took forever but I got the trailer and proceeded back from Salem to Clayton to load up my belongings. Wait for it, there was a snafu. Really. My dresser would not fit in it. The opening was not big enough, had it been a bit wider or taller, it would have been just fine. But no. Back on the phone, I found that the only place with the next size up was in Dayton. As soon as I heard the address I had a feeling I was in for more deja vu. And I was. When I left, the last time, in March 2009, I went to one U-H*ul place but had lots of trouble with lights on the trailer and was sent to another place where it could be fixed. Here I was back at the same place, trading out trailers. Now I decided the fates were just cruel, but upon reflection I thought that perhaps it was the proper way to leave this place, even as it frustrated me.

Once done, I headed back up to Clayton and luckily there were movers up there so I didn't have to lift a finger. My spirits lifted in the most amazing way as I pulled out with the rest of my belongings reunited with me. I still have not opened any of the boxes, as everything is back in storage, but just knowing that everything I owe is in one state feels remarkably whole and freeing.

It has been a long journey to get here, both literally and figuratively. I am happy in a way that I don't remember being in forever, maybe ever? My life keeps unfolding in some ways I could have never foreseen. Some of it is not fun, but it is still engaging, I still see the opportunity to grow from everything.

Overall I am just happy to close the Ohio chapter. It's done, I have my things. No longer tied by being split, no longer mourning the tangible and not quite so being far out of reach. it's a good place to be.

Sleepy start

Need to pack up and move on out of the home of the hostess with the mostess to pick up the trailer, the load up the beginnings and hit the road. Hence my quick post now because it's unlikely I will get online later today.

No surprise I woke from dreams about moving - hitching the trailer to a bicycle while expecting someone else to drive my car. After straining my way up a hill toward the cabin hauling an empty trailer I was beside myself with horror at the notion of pumping my way up the hills in Pennsylvania with the thing loaded. It took a few anxious moments to realize that we could just put the bike in the trailer and split the driving. Duh.

Am I stressed a little? Why would you ask that? Yes, yes, I know "just breathe". I am, I promise.

Movement to conclusion

Around the end of August, or maybe the beginning of September while chatting with a friend, it became apparent that I had a strong yearning to retrieve my things resting in storage in Dayton. There were a few things driving this I believe - one the option to have access to my things that I haven't seen in 1.5 years; a desire to have all my belongings in one state; and perhaps finally to close the Ohio chapter of my adventurous life.

A bit ago I began researching storage places close to either my nest here in New Paltz, or near Sunny. The other problem was figuring out when to go since the drive would be long and with all my traveling, meetings, housesitting it was hard to figure out. Initially I thought I would go in October, clearly that was a bust. Plus with the DNE weekend, well, just wasn't happening. Looking at the calendar, thinking about the weather shifting, and Thanksgiving, well this coming week is the time!

Today I booked a storage site here in New Paltz, let the Dayton place know I was coming to collect my belongings, and reserved a U-Haul trailer. Whew! It feels so good. All of me in one state, and I can have a kitchen table downstairs, a coffee table upstairs, and unearth my fridge magnets! Also I can get my kitchen gear off Sunny's porch and put it in storage close by so if I desire my Cuisinart to make latkes I can. Friday I will drive to Boston to go to Dance Friday, Sunday will be my CCG meeting, then Monday I hit the road. My travel buddy needs to be back in Boston by Friday so it will be a quick turn around but so worth it.

This feels so good, exciting even. It's also been a long time in coming. Of course it means another week away from my cabin but I think it will result in a lot of peace for me.

It feels like Sunday

Seriously, it does. My out of town friends have all left and are home. I felt nappish and napped rather than studied. Had challenging dreams. Janet says that one's unconscious is six months behind life. I'm not sure I agree.

(my desk area)

At this point it's hard to remember if this was a theme in my dreams before but certainly since leaving Dayton in March 2009 I have had a lot of moving dreams, not surprising since I wasn't living anywhere until a few months ago. Even since getting here to the cabin I haven't been here without an overnight or three for probably more than two weeks. Okay that might be a slight exaggeration but not by much. During my nap I had a dream about Her Geekyness, who I ended things with in February 2009 (hence my move); we were fighting about money and work. Not unlike real life in some ways as finances were always an issue. For me, dreaming about exes seems to be like a check in with myself that I made the right decision. What is funny about that is I never regret leaving relationship, not really. I feel badly sometimes, like maybe I didn't try hard enough before leaving, but I digress. I had to wake myself up because I just couldn't stand the arguing anymore.

Earlier today it sleeted, making for a good sleepy sort of day and a day when keeping the fire going was important but not always easy. Luckily I have done just enough so the temperature downstairs has not sunk below 63F. It seems way too early for such weather but I suppose not.

(another view of that room)

A Day in the Valley

No I didn't go anywhere, this is the metaphorical valley, where one resides when they fall from a lovely high. Last night I stayed up too late, tired but not wanting to give in to sleep, alone in a bed for the first time in two weeks. As the light rose I woke frequently but was now on the other side of things, not wanting to get up and face the day. Drifting in the in between state I thought how I didn't feel like hauling down to the city for Janet's performance (as much as I love her and wanted to go), nor was I feeling inspired to head up to New Paltz tomorrow for any part of the DNE weekend. I was in a wallowing mood. Feeling sad for myself at all the things I need to do that I have been setting aside.

I thought about why I wasn't enjoying this quietude more and I realized that staying at Sunny's is a stop gap, that I had left home behind with BC. Everywhere else has become the place I visit. But it just feels too soon, way too soon to move in so I am left with figuring out my next steps about where to be in between visits home.

As much as I have loved the last seven plus months of bouncing about, it is getting a little old, harder to focus within all this. There are time I so want a dresser and a closet that it is almost an ache. In the meantime I will hang things up here at Sunny's, finally, instead of having them in five different places. It's a step towards normalcy.

So tonight I am in my little packed room of stuff, mostly Sunny's but my mess overruns the space as well, missing my sweetheart, taking a break from knitting, making a list of the things I will accomplish in the next two weeks before I go home again, home again jiggity jig.

What a long strange trip it's been

Exactly one year ago today TGF, Wyatt (our canine) and Grace, Gemma, Atticus, and Marcelle (our felines) and I left California, after crazy delays.

For those joining this party late here is the post that started a series of posts chronicling this move. It was a crazy time and I cannot believe a year has cruised by. Not surprisingly I have been having packing(not the good kind ;-) and moving dreams. Mostly I dream that I'm moving to Indiana, I guess even asleep I continue to have problems assimilating that I live in Ohio. Indiana is the last place we slept before arriving so I guess part of me is stuck there refusing to cross the state line. It's funny of course because Indiana is no better or worse or even different from Ohio.

There was no way at that time to know or even have an inkling of all that I have found here in Ohio that is good. Wonderful in fact. Last year around this time I mourned that I would be arriving just past the time to attend A Wool Gathering, though I harbored hopes earlier in the summer that I would make it. Tomorrow I head there sure to run into any number of folks I know. Tomorrow evening is the last of South Park's Porch and Patio parties - a concept I knew nothing about one year ago. It will be the fourth one I've attended this year. Sunday is the knitting group at Night & Day Cafe on Brown Street, which I started in April. Monday starts my third week at Sinclair College taking pilates and middle eastern dance.

What a difference a year makes.

I believe I found the answer

To a question posed by a dear friend about a year ago, by reading a book on that same friend's shelf.

For those who are not familiar with this piece of my story (and I don't expect any of you to be) I moved from Massachusetts to California because my partner at the time got a job out there. Nine months ago I moved from the left coast to Ohio because of a pull of family, unfinished business, and most immediately a job (versus chronic unemployment in California) of TGF. While prepping for that move, and dealing with grief about leaving the coast and fears of the land of Ohio (much whining about these things was done on this blog, sorry about that), my friend expressed concern about this apparent pattern. (I don't see it as a pattern so much as the path I'm on.) She asked while we Google chatted, "where do you want to live?". I have pondered this question a lot (sorry I never told you Jennie) and have been sitting with it. It occurred to me that I don't have a particular drive to live in any part of the country because to me it's all filled with possibility. As soon as I rule out a region I may lose something incredible that was supposed to be part of my journey. Today I am at Jennie's house, wearing her bathrobe which is soft and lightweight which makes me realize I need an article of clothing like this of my own, sitting on the couch, reading Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's "Casts Off". All in all it's a very light hearted book and a bit silly but it has some great quotes. The that reached out to me this morning is this:

One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things." - Henry Miller

I am not a particular fan of Henry Miller's work, having never sought it out however this sums up the answer that has been swirling in my head for a year. It is always about how you live a place, not as much where it is. Yes, yes, there are places that may be intrinsically better for us hippie, lesbian, alternative, witchy-jewish-buddhist types than others. Certainly Ohio was never on my list of places to visit for anything much at all let alone become a resident, yet that is where my path has led me and already it has offered me so much concretely and ethereally. It has challenged (some) of my assumptions about such place, it has been refreshingly friendly and accepting. I have made friends and almost a peace with my coastal biases and snobbery about the middle of the country. If I had not made a commitment to my partner, if I was not optimist and conscious, I would have never made this move. I would have never allowed myself to be open and trust my intuition that flowed through me when we happened on our neighborhood. The gratefulness I feel for that day when my body vibrated on something in the air in South Park that said "this is where I can feel at home", I would have lost something amazing, something I didn't think still existed - a true neighborhood, one that was not insular but accepting of new residents, eager to bring them into the fold and say "you belong here".

So Jennie, while there are places I have lived that I have loved and feel connected to, and in theory I could find a number of new places to make home in the decades I hope to have before me, there is no one place that has absolutely everything I want. There are still other places that I may harbor a desire to inhabit to deeply experience however I do not need to have a plan to find them, I do not need to be sad that I may never claim them as home. My mantra is that I hope and will work to always find what I need wherever my journey lands me.

A small success

Yesterday I found a recipe that sounded good but I realized that was missing a key ingredient - corn starch. Do you see a theme here? About two weeks ago I was missing baking soda. There is something about moving that makes basic ingredients normally in one's pantry disappear.

My shopping list today including, besides corn starch, plastic for the windows, processed ham slices (don't ask), weather stripping, toothpaste, butter, glass cleaner, contact lens cleaner. It was an exciting day at Home Despot and Me(i)jers I tell you.

This vegetable pot pie was quite easy to put together but of course there was TGF's picky palate to potentially please. Visually it looked fabulous and smelled quite tasty as well.

It was one of those times when the Life commercial plays in my head, "She likes it!"
She even had seconds.

Another success, this post concludes my post a day for everyday in November.
Happy end of NaBloPoMo my compatriots!

Steps towards home

Sunday the 14th TGF left to go to Marion Indiana for her corporate training and she wasn't to return until sometime Wednesday - which was moving day. In the meantime there was a lot take care of in the meantime. Monday I began packing up the motel room and loading up the car.

Late morning Wyatt and I got in the car to go to the new place so I could rip up the carpeting. I first needed to get some tools, like a utility knife which would make things go so much faster. The weather was warm and I took frequent breaks to cool down, to walk Wyatt, or watch a little television. In the bedroom I was disappointed not to find a wood floor but tiles. Peeking in the second bedroom (our office) there was only carpeting. I found a little corner and began digging around at the tile and did indeed find wood under that. Gleeful I cleaned up a bit and dashed up the block to the tent on the Greenway for Rehabarama fairly confident I would find our landlady. I was hopeful that she would let me dig away but I wanted to just make sure, be the responsible tenant and all that. As predicted she was staffing the table so I was able to chat with her. She said she would send her husband over to check on it but it would probably be fine. I practically skipped back to the house. Wood floors! An accessible neighborhood!

For evening plans I had several choices before me which was so surprising I could barely believe I had just moved here.
1. Continue working on the house
2. Go down to Centerville to hand with Jeriann and Cody
3. Go to a North Dayton Stitch n Bitch and see potentially see other locals knitters (this was back near the motel)
4. Go to the Dayton Knitting Guild meeting that happens practically around the corner from the house.
I opted to go to the Guild meeting dusty and sweaty, without a knitting project to be had. It was fun and I chatted with a young woman I had "met" on Ravelry. Too much fun all in all.

Tuesday I was a woman on a mission - rip as much of the tile and substrate off the bedroom floor as possible. Basically I worked my butt off. Luckily Jer and Cody picked me up some dinner and helped me haul all the debris out of the bedroom so that furniture could be put in there the next day. I did not get all of the crappage off, in fact I still need to finish it. I found another surprise underneath the tile and hardboard - a linoleum room of sorts in a rose pattern. I do have photos of this, I really do but I still cannot find the cable that connects the camera to the computer. Sigh.

Wednesday was moving day and it started earlier than I had expected which was great. Bonus TGF got to leave her training a bit earlier so she was able to help direct traffic with the movers while I shifted things behind and ahead of them.

Finally after a month of numerous motel beds of greatly varied quality we slept on our mattress, surrounded by our beasts. We had found a home and it was trashed but I was blissfully happy to have landed somewhere, somewhere that was shaping (and has only been continuously so) to be fabulous.

A place to land

Sunday I received a call from Holly who had decided we should at least take a look at

318 Morton Street

, a property I had found a week earlier and we had scoped out at bit. She had it on good authority that we could get it for a real steal.

I thought the property had some potential, that we could live in it and fix it up. It wasn’t anything we would want to stay in a long time, it would be a good one to turn into a good rental versus the craptastic rental it had been, or to flip it and move onto another house. TGF was not convinced and Holly really wanted to see us in a better location. This particular block was mostly rentals, low end ones at that. The house to the right was so close my wingspan (remember I’m short) could touch both properties and it was a rental duplex with loud music pumping on a Sunday afternoon.

Holly was really excited by Rehabarama and wanted to show us some of the houses. We finally met the infamous Teresa Gaspar who was working on Little Bradford as the house had been nicknamed. This place was so freaking cute that if it was just me I would have moved right in. They had done a great job renovating this place. We also went to the big house on Johnson which had us ohhing and ahhing at every turn. Holly continued to introduce us as new SouthPark residents that just hadn’t found a home yet and quizzed everyone for ideas. We also met her husband, Michael, the other large force of nature working on putting SouthPark on the map. Since TGF’s wasn’t going to start work the next day as we had thought earlier in the week, she offered her services to help get this particular house ready as it was the most behind schedule.

That day I spoke again with Karin and made arrangements for the next day to see a duplex and a rental she had open. The duplex had been bought sight unseen and was a defensive move as it had been a horrible rental property and it backed up to her house. She and her husband had done nothing to it yet so she would be willing to sell it for what they paid for it in July - $22,000. The rental was one half of a duplex that they hadn’t done much too – a long term tenant had just moved out.

Late that night my phone rang and I saw it was my mother. I figured she forget that I was no longer three hours behind her but still it was very late her time so I picked it up. My father was in the hospital because he had collapsed –something with his heart. I no longer remember how she was contacted (they have been divorced for eons) but she told whoever it was that she would tell me. His heart wasn’t pumping right and he would need a pacemaker.

Monday morning TGF left to paint and stain while I puttered around the motel room. I tell you this place seemed like a luxury hotel after Cave 6. Even TGF who is rather, ahem, princess-like expectations about such accommodations was pleased. The phrase “how the mighty have fallen” may have been tossed about.

It was pretty early but I called the hospital to check on my father. The nurse I spoke to said he was stable and would be heading to surgery in a few hours. Though it was still early I called his girlfriend and heard the whole saga. Being outside seemed like a good idea so I took the dog for a walk. When I came back the mess bothered me so I straightened up the room. The time passed rather quickly and soon it was time to meet Karin and TGF to see about some housing. The duplex for sale, well, it was barely habitable and had no charm about it anywhere. The other one however was charming. Not only was the rent a great deal (and I mean GREAT!) but she offered that if we (read me) were willing to do the cosmetic repairs and such, the labor would be subtracted from the rent. It took all my self control not throw money at her and move in that day. We kept our cool and said we would get back to her. For me it was a no brainer, our funds were quickly disappearing and this was a score of high order. The place came with a stove, fridge, dishwasher, washer and dryer. It had a bath and a half – talk about luxury! Okay sure the half bath was also the laundry room, had the trap door to the basement in it and was the back door to the unit but damn it had two toilets! I had that once for about 1 year as an adult, a second toilet. Freaking lap of luxury for me.

(I received word from various parties that surgery had gone well.)

TGF worked again the next two days helping get that house in order for Rehabarama. On Wednesday I called Karin and said, as calmly as possibly, “we would love to rent your unit”. Also on Wednesday I went over to Books & Co to try to apply for a job. Apparently they only do online applications so I browsed the magazine racks (yes I bought a knitting magazine or two, I couldn't help it, I swear). I was assured once again that I was no longer in Kansas when I noticed there was a whole section of periodicals under the heading of “Guns”.

Thursday we signed the lease and I called utilities to get things in our name. We brought some boxes over which I quickly unpacked as much as I could. TGF contacted her mother about hiring the movers again and we tried for the soonest date possible to move in. In the end the move in date was set for Wednesday. Not as fast as I would have like but it made her feel better since she would be in Indiana at corporate training from Sunday evening until Wednesday afternoon. Just a few more days of motel life!

Bollocks to Milton – Paradise Found

Three weeks ago, Saturday the 29^th, we found paradise – Dayton style. After two whole days of doing nothing active about finding housing I was feeling antsy, so to cope with it I mapped out 5 properties to drive by and walk around. To save time and be very organized I had plotted the route out so that there was no back tracking and we worked in a counter clockwise pattern.

Quickly we ruled out the first one or two, had some hopes for another. As we drove to the last house we noticed a lot of work going on at houses on the street. Many of the properties had signs noting “Rehabarama”. It was all looking very promising. However the property on our schedule was lacking, mostly because of limited outdoor space. We decided to keep driving round the neighborhood, one TGF had never heard of though she lived just north of here for decades. The area name you ask? Okay, promised to laugh for only 10 minutes. SouthPark. Yeah, yeah, I feel like I have visited with King of the Hill with Boomhauer, The Simpsons with Cletus, and now I was falling in love with historic SouthPark. The variety of houses was inspiring, the upkeep on many were quite good. As we circled and looped the blocks of this neighborhood another thing we noticed was a jazz concert happening on the greenway of

Park Drive

with a large mix of people, kids playing – just a sweet afternoon.

“I could totally live here”, I pronounced. The homes we looked at in the Belmont section where nice, truly but it felt a bit too suburban, sterile. SouthPark was alive with kids playing outside, cute architecture and just felt like a neighborhood where people said hello as they passed. And just like that we refocused our goals for where we wanted to live. I noted addresses with for sale signs and researched my fingers off that night. Sunday we returned, looking at one house that we saw that had some potential. Walking around it we were a little hesitant about the specific property. A bit later we met up with Jeriann to show her around and she too was delighted. We got out of the car in front of one home that clearly was out of budget but we couldn’t help but to look. As we were standing there a woman appeared and said, “Let me tell you about this house”. She told a lovely story about the house however we were really looking for something to fix up ourselves. Maureen introduced herself and told us a bunch about the neighborhood. We exchanged phone and email information – she was so friendly! Not more than 10 minutes after we left she called to tell me about another house or two we should drive by to see what we thought. Helpful and friendly. Drove by one the house was we were instantly and completely smitten, however the signs on the house did not indicate it was for sale at all.

Finally we left but we were all convinced that this was the right place for us.

Interrupting the saga for a giggle

So I decided to actually look at my blog's statistics since they have picked up a bit since I haven't been ignoring my blog. Go figure, if you write (and get hooked up with Raverly - which I am loving) people actually stop by.

I clicked on one of the google searches, just to see and someone was searching for "louisiana sweet ass". Well damn if you wanted to know how to find my good friend Louisiana Swamp Rat, you could have just written me.

In order to try to remember enough details to make decent postings I have been jotting little notes because otherwise I tell you it would all be a blur. There are really great things since landing here I really want to tell you all about it but it takes a lot of energy to write it out. I will though, I promise!

Opening days of life in a new state

We settled into a very tiny room at the Mot*l 6. I do mean tiny, cave like even since we realized we couldn’t open the curtains because the window face on the walkway to room on the second floor.

First on the agenda was returning the Behemoth which luckily was a short drive because I seriously didn’t want to be near the thing any longer than necessary. Meeting me at the truck to check it over was a skinny, snaggle tooth guy who reminded me of Cletus Spuckler from the Simpsons. Between “Cletus” and “Boomhauer” it was rapidly becoming clear to me that Dayton really is the South though according to most maps the state of Ohio is in Midwest. We compared notes on driving over mountains, me the West, him the Appalachian variety apparently. He told me that his wife found the rises and dips nerve wrecking but his daughter loved it. According to him she wants drive trucks when she grows up. As TGF says, at least she has a goal.

Another stop was to StalMart to buy shoes as mine were still totally soaked and cold.

We also drove by the house that we decided was bite too large as well as a few others. Bascially that was the bulk of our day. We met the ‘rents for dinner, this time at Olive Garden – did I mention they like to eat out and not cook?

Hit the room early and were zombies until sleep over took us.

Friday the 28^th is a distant memory at this point but I do know we went to The Parents’ house to do laundry. I was finally going to go to their house! The two quick trips I had made to Ohio three years ago, seeing her parents on their turf was not an option in TGF’s mind. This felt like a milestone in our relationship. Her dad (he's retired, mom works) wasn’t around so we lounged and soaked in the experience of being in a house, a functional place where people actually have their belongings around them and space, the ability to be in separate rooms if we desired. For what was already feeling like an eternity we had been staying in tiny rooms only at night and here it was day light, we weren’t driving, we were sitting on real furniture and our dog could roll around on grass. It felt a bit like heaven.

In which our heroine clearly is no longer in Kansas (aka a blue state)

Wednesday (about 45 miles)

It’s a gray day but we are both jittery with excitement. We go to breakfast to get fuel for the day ahead and I call Janelee the Realtor to make plans. Even though I spoke her yesterday when she told me “Oh I can meet you at the house, you can sign the lease and I’ll give you the keys”, suddenly she was tied up until 4pm! WTF, you know? Ellie, TGF’s mom, had movers scheduled to meet us at 1pm to unload. I was so furious I couldn’t speak, really. This is after her waiting until Monday to tell us that we can’t get power on in the place without a lease because the current owner owes money, that water can’t be turned on until Thursday at the earliest. Did I mention she was a duel agent so she had all this information from the get go?

Then we headed to a Bob Evans (TGF is so happy to be back in the land of all these chain restaurants I can't even tell you!) to get food where a woman had three toddlers who took turns starting the next round of caterwauling. I thought I was going to lose my mind. TGF had to grab my hand to stop me from getting up to say something to the woman. “I wasn’t going to yell at her, clearly the woman needs help and I was going to tell her that.” Somehow that didn’t fly. When I am tired, low blood sugar or PMS I am very sensitive to sounds, that day I was all three so it was a real struggle.

Finally we hit the road, it is a gray and drizzly day. As we hit Dayton proper I am following TGF and have a sinking feeling based on way too many hours on Google maps that we are heading the wrong way. My phone rings and TGF confirms her misstep, I try not be grumpy. We agree to park the Behemoth somewhere so we can ride over in the car and scope out the best path.

As we first enter the St Anne’s Hill area I am heartened, happy even – it really is cute, a bit edgy but livable. Then we turn up

Samuels Street

and the happy, fluttery feeling starts to sink into a darker, worried place. The house is not set far back from the street, and I knew there were a number of properties on the block that were for sale. What I wasn’t as clear on is that they were almost all abandoned, empty buildings. TGF didn’t like that there were so many people home during the day. The place held potential but the neighborhood? Um, not so much.

Still hopeful we round up the truck, Ellie meets us at the house but by then we have made a decision to walk away from the deal. The realtor had been less than clear, withheld information, and the neighborhood would take far to long to turn around to be a good investment. We arrange for the movers, who were fortunately late, to meet us a storage facility near Ellie’s workplace. It was still raining and when we all are in the same place it becomes clear that the car dolly is not working properly so we cannot detach it, which of course we need to do in order to unload the truck into the last storage unit Mike (aka the Bear) had that was large enough for our vast quantity of stuff. Once again a call is made to Budg*t, who sends a tow out (I now have a special place in my heart for tow workers) after another hour or more wait. The car dolly definitely had problems and really I wish we could dispute the charge for the damn thing (our second one if you remember) but that would require energy.

In the meantime we converse with the movers, Justin (aka Boomhauer), John, and Matt. Boomhauer, like the character on King of the Hill takes some time to understand. Most people you can listen in a manner that is akin to skimming while reading, but our Boomhauer guy requires actually listening with intent until you get used to the speech patten. All three had varying levels of tattoos with Boomhauer having the most body art including a very bad neck tattoo of the number “13” surrounded by flames. You know the kind of flames, like the ones you see on cars only bad colour job. TGF and Ellie had taken the cats and some our belongings to the next motel in our tour while I had an enlightening if tongue biting conversation.

Finally the car dolly is off, the Purple Beast towed to the doctor’s office, and the rain stopped just in time for them to unload everything while I was wearing was soaked to the bone. I actually stopped to wring out the bottoms of my pants which were now about two inches longer than normal so I was consistently stepping on them. My cheap birks were wet and clammy, my blood sugar was crashing and I still needed to drive the Behemoth albeit a lesser one now that the dolly was gone back to the Mot*l 6. Eventually we finally we able to take off and went off to the Golden Corral for dinner. TGF was very happy. Did I mention that her palate has been heavily influenced by her southern roots and years in Ohio?

Thus my first day as a resident of Ohio comes to an exhausting and emotional end.

Rain, Roads and Raper, Oh My!

Tuesday Iowa to Indiana (385) miles)

During our stay in Davenport TGF better to not totally push ourselves to make Dayton on Tuesday and stay the night at Jeriann’s. The idea of unloading to Jer’s 2-bedroom condo on the third floor of a walk up to share her space with her, our nephew Cody (almost 13 years old) and three cats with our crew just did not seem to be a great idea. And then there was the prospect of whether or not we would find somewhere to park the Behemoth at her condo. TGF picked RichmondIndiana, which is just across the border from Ohio and not far from Dayton proper, at our goal. It all seemed very doable, less mileage then the day before so a breeze, right? Not so much.

One of the great things about this part of the country is how far one can see ahead, and on either side of the road. In the early afternoon I could see rain falling far off in the distance, a sight I hadn’t seen in years and years. I first remember seeing this phenomenon when I was a child visiting my grandfather in Florida. It completely floored me how one could “see” rain from so far away, that one could see it but not be in it. That vision on nature is right up there in awe factor with the first time I clearly remember seeing the rays of the sun streaming down and when we drove through a cloud in Montana.

We were cruising along quite nicely when we hit our first real traffic tie up of the entire trip. I kid you not. There had been an accident which held up traffic for close to a hour, during which time we crawled along when we could drive. Cody called me during this time and we chatted about school and his Wii game, which helped to pass the time. We had all made plans to meet in Richmond for dinner because he could not wait to see us. I began to worry about making good time so as not to keep them out to late, it being a school night and all.

The traffic did let up but the light rain and darkened sky soon descended which slowed things a bit, but not as much as the crazy construction combined with rush hour traffic. It’s true the traffic is laughable when compared with the Bay Area but Indianapolis in dark light, rain, driving a Behemoth and having no idea when the lanes are going switch up on you, and the damn bumpiness of the road, well frankly it sucked big time!

Once we got onto 70 proper it was better, though it seemed to take forever for that to happen, but then we had no idea what exit the Mot*l 6 was at and there were no signs. When I finally saw a mileage sign that said 36 miles to Richmond I thought I would cry because after days of travel, the rain, the dark, and horrible suspension of the Behemoth I was beyond done with driving. I chanted and cursed my way through the last leg of this day. I played cheerleader and the team in need of cheering. Every time a bridge or an overpass appeared I bit my lip in order not to cry at the jarring section of road ahead.

I kept searching the billboards that popped up but when a series of them appeared in the distance I had hope that one would be blaring a Mot*l 6 sign however what I saw instead was what looked to my tired eyes to be the equivalent of a visual stutter – they were all blaring advertisements for a Tom Raper who apparently sold RVs, maybe something else. I really don’t know because I was so annoyed at his total domination of air space and not one of them was telling me when I could stop driving that I couldn’t read them. Finally I found a sign for another chain, called TGF to tell her I was going there, that I didn’t care anymore, I just had to stop driving. Soon after I saw that that very same exit led to the holy grail of motels for this trip. To say that I was happy, relieved, or even ready to collapse is only to scratch the surface of my emotions.

Soon after we met up with Jeriann and Cody for dinner which was really nice diversion. Afterwards we crawled in bed and looked forward to the conclusion of our journey.

We met a goal!

Monday Nebraska to Iowa (about 443 miles)

As we set out early I hoped and prayed for smoother roads because I was not relishing the idea of being a bobble doll again. Despite getting passed the last large mountain pass in Laramie Wyoming (elevation 8460 ft) there were still a number of rises and less dips from mid-Nebraska and through Iowa. I felt like I was going up, often a low rise but still up, about 70% of the time which was really exhausting work. Felt a bit like a wuss given that TGF did the Sierra ranges but it was still hard work. And well, the Purple Beast is a heavier load than the Subaru.

Iowa really is a pretty state with its rolling hills and sweet valleys. With the Motel 6 guide in hand we had decided to set DavenportIowa as our distance goal. During the day I remembered to call Sunny to give her an update since I hadn’t spoken to her since waiting on a tow in Buford. When I told her we were about 15 miles outside of Des Moines, she said that might mean something to her if she knew anything about geography. I told her it meant we were in Iowa and had finished getting through Wyoming and that we had tackled the wide expanse that is Nebraska. She remembered Nebraska as rather plain and uninspiring from our trip across the country back in 1973. I told her I didn’t remember that state from that journey but that I found it changed landscapes as one drove through it.

At this late date I don’t remember much else about the day’s journey, which is probably a good thing because it means it was rather uneventful. We did actually make it to Davenport which represents the first time this trip that we set and met a destination goal. Impressive if you ask me; given all the bumps literal and figurative in the road on this journey.

And the winds they do blow

Sunday Wyoming to Nebraska (362 miles)This time we got an earlier start, determined to get moving and make up for losing a day. With high hopes and without consulting a map we aimed for Omaha, soon we realized this was a rather ambitious goal. Nebraska is a very long, long state; something that had not changed in the six years since I last traveled Route 80. What was different were the winds which were gusting at up to 35- 75 miles per hour depending on whether one believed the reports I heard or the ones TGF heard. Regardless of clocking the winds it made driving the Behemoth challenging as it was a top heavy beast.

As I drove along feeling more confident suddenly the road changed, or was it a tire. Since I could only see the tires on one side, and given all the problems we had had, I decided it was wiser to pull over and check things out. Of course all the tires were fine but I could barely open my door, or see for all the wind stirring up the dust of the plains. We quickly hopped back on the road. The winds were creating the most amazing dust storms which suddenly that image so much more than it had been before as I struggled to walk in the winds, drive through them and watch dust funnels form.

Western Nebraska was rockier and more barren, but as I drove east, the landscape softened and there were trees atop slightly scalloped hills. The other natural feature that teased my eyes was a river that traveled along side for a long time. I loved watching the colours change and the movement of the gentle current. It reminded me of the bay and of the wrap I made (that I have not put up the photos of) for Ruth.The rumbling of the road continued but I no longer feared it was a tire problem. The bumpiness of the road shook me all over and I often felt like one of the bobble headed toys keep in the back window made for just such conditions. My other thought was of those silly machines that proposed simply by jiggling a person that one could lose weight. If that were true by the end of my journey I should be easily ten pounds lighter. Clearly this was not to be because one, those types of machines do not work; and two, the road food is not conducive to weight loss. Actually the rumbling was really hard to deal with because there was no way to truly relax into it and I keep wishing for smooth roadways. There were times when I would almost cry when the bumps started while other times I would almost cry when the road became slick as a sheet of ice.

As day grew long we settled on exit in Grand Island. This was a huge and luxurious feeling travel spot, a Bosselman’s with restaurants, a barber shop, a mini grocery store, and free wireless throughout the property! This was the most elegant of the Motel 6 (or anywhere this trip) that we stopped at and I really appreciated the slight upgraded décor though the room was on the small side.

It was lovely to stop driving after my first full driving day of the Behemoth. Truly lovely.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Saturday Wyoming to Wyoming (149 miles. Yes you read that right)

As six years earlier, the early morning light in Wyoming is beautiful. The light coming over the hills, the undulating horizons, and the endless expanse of sky is so beautiful that it is almost overwhelming. This time I was able to see the skylines as the sun was rising, thanks to Wyatt needing to go outside as soon as a human stirred. The winds were fierce in the early light and though I wanted to take photos the lure of the bed was much stronger than any artistic motivations.

TGF offered to drive the Behemoth to the Sinclair gas station as she had more experience maneuvering the beast and once on the highway we would find a place to switch driving. I strolled over to her to negotiate payment and such. In passing I noted that there was a red Dodge diesel truck on the other side of the pump. The owner of this vehicle would soon prove invaluable to our journey and protected our safety. A few moments later he was looking over our truck and said, “I don’t mean to be nosy but I think you’ve got yourself a problem with your towing rig. The tongue looks yanked out of place.” Sure enough it did not look right at all. The rig was barely on one the ball hitch and he said we were lucky that we hadn’t lost our car. We thanked him profusely for pointing out the wrecked car dolly, filled up the gas tank (again for buckets of money), pulled the truck to the side of the gas station and call B*dget.

One of the first things the very helpful guy said was “you should NEVER back up the vehicle when you have a car dolly”, which was exactly what TGF had to do the night before. She replied that our dealer had even drawn out directions for how to back up. There was an awkward silence from our guy on the phone and some hemming and hawing. Soon Iron J Towing was pulling up behind our crippled Behemoth. A tall, thin, dark haired guy named John took one look at the hitch and said, “Shit!”, to which I replied that was not exactly the assessment we were hoping for. Aside from his negative judgment he was quite helpful but said he would have to send another guy with a larger rig out. On the positive he thought there was a B*dget car dolly left at their tow yard. We tried to think positively about this dolly because who knew how else we were going to do this trip if we had to leave a vehicle here.

Shortly after Mikel from Iron J Towing came by, gave the same assessment on the condition of the hitch – basically it was f*cked and would need a major repair. We mentioned that John had indicated there was an abandoned B*dget dolly at the yard. He noted that it had a flat tire. Soon he was on the phone with B*dget when I overheard him say that he doesn’t do tire work on Saturdays. I fought the urge to say something about it must be nice to decide when one does what type of work but bit my tongue and wondered if $50 dollars under the table would change his mind. After a fair amount of back and forth with our rental company and Mikel it was decided that we would follow Mikel to the yard, in the east part of town so he could see what he could do. It was there at the Iron J Towing property that TGF remembered my tevas had been on the roof of the Purple Beast, only now there was but one lone sandal. I was now down to one pair of shoes, a pair of cheap sandals, until we landed and unpacked in Ohio. Mikel kindly sent us off to get some breakfast while he saw what was usable between our car dolly and the two he had sitting there.

By the time we finished our meal down the road at Penny’s Diner (this end of Rawlins was the bustling end while where we had stayed was the down on it’s luck end of town), Mikel had taken the Subaru off, disconnected the defunct dolly and had another one almost ready to hitch on. By this time, Don a older guy with a body crooked and awkward from hard physical labor, and bad teeth, who I assume was the owner or manager of the joint was chatting us up. Especially since I would be driving the Behemoth from for awhile we were asking about the mountain passes. He assured us there was only one more major one and from the crest, “you can see all the way over to Ohio where we would be able to see our husband and yell at him to get back to work". Needless to say we did not correct him about a husband waiting on our asses in Ohio. Clearly Mikel had broken his own rule and replaced the tire on the dolly so we could hit the road. I thanked for his help and going beyond the call; I also let him know that I would be publicly thanking Mikel and Iron J Towing. So if you are ever in a pinch in the vicinity of

Rawlins WY

, you now know who to call for excellent help. Just don’t mention if you’re a lesbian, don’t talk about the dangers of cigarettes and pretend politics doesn’t exist as a topic up for debate.

Finally we were on the road, looking for a good pull off to trade rides, which we soon found. At first I was a little nervous about handling a 24-foot truck plus hauling the Subaru but I remembered a little thing TGF told me. Her dad and she have always bonded around cars. TGF is a good driver and has what her dad refers to as a good gut for driving, as in it’s instinctual for that person. Well she apparently told him that I have “the gut”. I replayed her telling me that tale a time or two to calm my nerves, and it really did help.

A bit down the road she buzzed me saying the cats could probably use some water – the hot winds continued – and a bathroom stop for us and the dog might be a good idea. The next likely place was in

Buford

at the Buford Trading Post. We hung out a bit, stretching our legs, giving Wyatt some time out of the car, getting water to the cats, etc. The owner of the Post came up to ask TGF if the soda machine had eaten any of her money, which seemed nice, but he was abrupt and odd about questioning her use of dimes rather than quarters. We decided he was bit cantankerous and left it alone. Getting into our respective vehicles I steeled myself up to the challenge of a series of turns to get out of there and back on the highway. As I climbed the entrance ramp my phone rang. “The Blazer won’t start.” Ugh. I told her to call me if she couldn’t get her going, or to catch up to me. A few minutes later I called her and found that she still had had no luck so I needed to turn around at the next available exit. Luckily this was not too far ahead and as I neared the entrance to the trading post I noticed the sign:

Buford WY

. Pop. 1. Elevation 8000. Sure enough Purple Beast was making the same noises and not turning over as she had before we replaced the battery and alternator, after being assured the fuel pump was fine. Not so sure about that any more.

A call to AAA told me that a tow truck would be on the way within an hour, and because I was confident they would not get the Purple Beast to start, I requested that they switch which vehicle was on the dolly since there was nothing wrong with the Subaru. The sun was beginning to make it’s descent but the beauty was almost wasted on me as this had put another hitch into our plans and I was starting to doubt our ability to successfully get to Ohio. About this time we both phoned our mothers because, frankly, at this point our inner child needed a cyber hug awful bad. A bit later AAA called to say that taking the working car off the dolly was not covered and might cost about $200. I was really frustrated by everything and really didn’t care about the money, I just wanted to get back on the road. When it had been more than an hour I called again and was told that tow truck that had been sent to rescue us had broke down. Irony, no? When I went over to TGF to tell her this she was chatting up two guys who she announced were professional wrestlers. They were great guys. Mosi is originally from Detroit, which is where they were heading, but had lived a number of places. Jeremy was from Idaho, in the process of relocating to Detroit. Mosi was a chatty guy, while Jeremy was a good foil for his tales. My phone rang with another call from AAA telling me they were having problems finding another tow company allowed on the property where we were stuck. No I am not kidding. Apparently the owner of this land and apparently most if not all of Buford is a bit, um, prickly. In the midst of this, as the skies got darker, I remembered that I had brownies from Roger the Neighbor, so despite being stressed and stranded I played the gracious hostess and passed the dessert around to the wrestlers who had said they would stay until a tow company came to help us.

Another phone call from AAA tells me they found someone but, and it’s a big one, they will have to tow the Purple Beast and we will have to follow them to somewhere else because The Buford Man does not like any work done on his property. Now keep in mind that the store has long since closed and Mr I Live in Town of My Own is nowhere to be found. Finally after dark Sean from Big Al’s Towing showed up. He was great! Told us great stories, like the guy who pulled off the highway to walk his dog and was told by a cowboy type man to “get off my land”. Mr Dog Walker said "hey it’s a public highway". Apparently not and Mr. Cowboy let off a load of buckshot into his engine and Sean towed it away. Sean called Mr My Own Town to tell him he was coming to help us. What Sean didn’t tell his was that he was going to do the work right there. In fact Sean was surprised that Mr. My Own Town didn’t show up to bother us. The charming Sean also only charged us $100 for at least an hour of crazy work of switching the cars. It was quite the project towing a dead car up onto the car dolly. Upon his recommendation we drove about 25 miles to a Motel 6 (which is the chain we stayed with the rest of the trip) because they are relatively inexpensive (read bare bones) and allow pets.

So though we had been out of our motel room for a good 12 hours our miles traveled were very low for last Saturday.

(Dear readers please note I am posting these way after the fact so the posting date is correct but for example this happened over a week ago. I have been having difficulty having enough energy to write and internet access is still quite irregular. I have started on last Sunday's entry and hope to post it soon. We are in Ohio already so do not fear.)