Cityside- The Washington Files 4!

So I think last we left off, we were touring around the city. I love to explore cities, try new restaurants, shop, explore, take pictures (I know, you're shocked) and see the sights.  And while the city is beautiful, and I'd love to explore it more the next time I'm in WA...this may well have been my favorite part of the day. 

Ben took us to Golden Gardens Beach on Puget Sound. It's beautiful, active,  and the weather couldn't have been more perfect.

These two are two of my favorite people, and they're friends of mine going back to high school.  I was in band with Ben, and met Patty on a field trip when she bought a cello from a guy in Chicago who warned us about the demons outside his front door.  We remained close or got even closer after high school and spent late spring, all summer and into fall around bonfires having barbecues and sharing stories. 

 We're not all in the same town anymore- not even all in the same state, so just getting to see Ben again was great. There's something about being back in the presence of your close friends when it's been a while.  We had a little adventure getting *to* Ben when we got off the ferry, but as soon as I got in the car, I felt a sense of familiarity wash over me, and the city didn't seem so foreign anymore.  I'm really grateful for the kind of friend Ben is. We hadn't seen each other for over a year and we don't always talk too much...but it didn't take any words at all to know the relationship we had was still there.   Patty being there made it even better- just felt like a reunion of sorts. 

The park was perfect- there were a lot of people there but the feel of it was that everybody was just out to have fun.  Ben and I always liked to take long walks together, so it seemed pretty natural to be walking along the shoreline catching up, laughing, inventing strange creatures (I didn't forget about the HC, man.) and laughing. There was a light breeze, the sun was nice and warm, and you could make out the outline of the  mountains from the shore. 

So this isn't my best shot by a long shot...but I think it sums up how the day was going.  And anyway, when you're with your friends, it's not so much about how ridiculous you look.  The thing that struck me about this is how happy we both looked.  We were on the shoreline hunting crabs when I took this. 

 Shortly after this, we got in touch with someone else who's really special to me, the fabulous Ms. Wing.   She's a friend of mine I met through other friends, including Patty, and who became very important to me.  She's creative, wise, funny, and warm.  I was nervous to finally get to meet her in person, and when she got out of the car and hugged, I knew the friendship we'd forged over forums and letters and emails was just as strong as I'd thought.    She met us at Anthony's HomePort Shilshole Bay, which is a wonderful seafood restaurant that sits right on the Sound.  Ben came along, and fit right in.   We had cocktails, laughed and talked for way too long before we even opened the menus, and watched some people learning to paddleboard past where we were sitting on the balcony. It was a gorgeous night.

Seafood when you're right on the ocean was something I wasn't going to pass up, and I wasn't disappointed. I had a seafood alfredo with scallops, prawns, shrimp and mussels...it was amazing.   But honestly? The conversation, the wind in our hair (though it got cold) and the friendships evident all across the table were the absolute best part.

Towards the end of the meal, the sun started to set behind our table, and it was amazing.

I couldn't have thought of a single place I'd rather be than where I was that day, and it wouldn't have been nearly as amazing were it not for the company. It wasn't the end of the trip, either, but it could have been, and I'd still have been one happy camper. 

You don't always think about how much difference your friends make, but this day it was pretty clear, and pretty easy to just feel it.  So to Wing, and Ben, and Patty...

You made my day.  Your friendship is so, SO important to me, and I'm so glad we got this day to enjoy it. I hope there's many more like it. 

The time warp! The Washington Files Part...3?

When last we left off, our intrepid travellers had journeyed their last road, eaten their last gas station sandwich, and panicked about rolling backwards down their last hill.  The author had written her last incoherent runon sentence. (Ok, who am I kidding? I'll probably do that again, and soon!)

There's a bit of a wrinkle in time between the end of the last story and the beginning of this one.  This is because when we arrived, there was a whole day of moving trucks, allergies, restaurants in which at least 2 people were falling asleep at any one time (restaurants with excellent pie, though) and....hotel rooms with Bones and me and Patty.  Good times.  Except the allergies and stuff.  

It was Saturday I had really been looking forward to, because it was my first pure vacation day.   We were headed to Seattle, and not only that, we were about to meet up with two old friends, Ben and the fabulous Winger.  Fair warning: I may split Seattle into two posts....because there were two very separate reasons it was as amazing as it was.

Patty and I got dropped off at the ferry station (port? sea...hut?) and prepared for our first trip across Puget Sound.  It was actually kind of overcast and dreary when we got there.  It reminded me vaguely of The Ring.

These birds? not harbingers. So we dodged a bullet there, I guess.  As an aside, anybody know what type of fine feathered non harbinger friends these are? I'm curious. 

It's strange how foreign things can seem.  The ferry is probably (and somewhat embarassingly) the biggest boat I've ever been on.  I like the way the passenger section is set up. There's good places for you if you're alone or with a group, and there's tables, arcade games, and concessions. There's also window spots and spots on the open deck, if you're a natural born gawker like I am. 

Patty's happy this is significantly less creepy than the El. 

Anyway...the clouds seemed to go on their way pretty quickly, and we got a great view across Puget Sound.  Mountains a vague blue in the distance, sparkling blue waters, and the thick pine forest, busy bridges, and homes scattered along the shorelines.  

It's not too long a trip, not too expensive.  It was a good time to just relax, enjoy the ride, and see the sights. I keep wondering what makes a sound a sound...I'm not terribly familiar with sounds as opposed to islands or isthmuses or peninsulas, etc.  Must be a Washington thing. ;)

Seattle came into view fairly quickly, and from further out, it looked quite a bit smaller than it turned out to be.  We disembarked our fair ferry and attempted to meet up with Ben.  This was easier said than done. One thing I will say about Seattle: If you come in on the ferry,and you're trying to get picked up by a friend...it's really not set up well for you to be able to do that. I really have to hand it to poor Ben for tolerating tons of circling on a big scary highway just to pick us up.  

I found that Seattle has the type of vibe you tend to expect from it- young, hip, green and smart.  I didn't expect hills whose steepness  I'd only heard existed  in San Francisco.  Ben navigated through like it was his backyard, and he turned out to be an excellent tour guide.  We learned alot about the various neighborhoods, got to drive through a few of them, and had some "local" experiences- I think it was a really nice mix. 

We got in around lunch time, so we headed out to a Mexican place whose claim to fame is having baby sized burritos. 

I can't decide if this is creepy, amusing, disturbing or all of the above.  Maybe all of the above?

After lunch, we explored Ben's place of employ, an incredibly neat bookstore called The Couth Buzzard.  First of all, I never name things well (see: title of this post) and I find this an amazing, memorable name. But more than that, it's homey.  It has the musty book smell, the shelves on wheels that clear for music performances, local photographers displaying their work, and a coffee counter.  More or less a nirvana for the bookish nerds.  We got lost in there for a while, tried some interesting coffee drinks (I tried something called The Stinger, which is espresso, coffee, cayenne, honey...and something else? milk? It hurts a little, but then you flyyyyy), found a few neat card prints by a Seattle artist, and generally meandered the bookshelves. 

I'm glad we know this.

We stopped at a really interesting little space store that's actually a children's educational center too, and we hit a few more landmarks, like the Troll.   

We also got to go to Golden Beach right on Puget Sound. I promise there's more about this tomorrow, but it was a completely gorgeous day- probably high 70s or low low 80s, pure sunshine, wonderful breeze and sparkling water.  This was kind of a theme on this trip. 

We got our toes in the sand, watched sailboats, saw lots of happy dogs playing catch or Frisbee (including one poor German Shepherd who was unhappy to discover he could not, in fact, hold an entire volleyball in his mouth.  He kept trying, but he'd just drop it and whine sadly.) We hunted crabs, sat in the sun, and got a little wistful seeing a cute older couple taking a labored stroll through the park hand in hand. 

We headed out from there and I think, honestly, if the day had ended there I would have been pretty damn content.  But we had much more to do. 

We took another small driving tour and then we met up with the wonderful Wing, who's a friend of mine for at least the last 7 years who I'd known online through other real life friends, and someone who'd been there for me through a lot.  It was exciting to meet her.  We'd told her the neighborhood we were in and she'd suggested a place called Anthony's for dinner. 

It was GORGEOUS.  Right on the water, and we rolled in just as the sun was starting to set over Puget Sound.  The seafood was absolutely fantastic, and I'd had it on my list to get seafood while on the West Coast...I got a seafood alfredo full of the freshest shrimp, prawn, scallops....it was amazing.  We were there forever, laughing, talking and enjoying the food and company. 

This is the kind of thing that makes me feel overwhelmingly lucky.  Getting to see places like this. Getting to share them with old friends, to laugh and talk and try something new.  To relax...and to get lost in a moment like this.  

Again, I think I'd have been completely happy with the day ending here.  Full tummies, a cocktail, a beautiful sunset, laughter and friends.   I think that's all you can really ask for. 

Fan-O-Montana! (Kill me for the joke later) Washington Files Part THREE (after brief hiatus)

(Note: Your blogger (moi) had a really intensely *special* week...and made some silly errors...hence the delay in the story.  You may now sit back, relax...and see pictures of things with WORDS!)

This is Honey Badger, aka Fluffy. He was our mascot from the Montana Night Death Drive.  A furball who toughs it through cones, travel, and trucks as if he don't care.  Cuz he don't. He's Honey Badger. He did way better than the humans did on the night death driving.

By morning, and after a great sleep on a giant, fluffy king sized bed. (God Bless the Best Western in Bozeman. Seriously.), my knuckles were less white and my nerves had gone back towards steel from putty.  We were ready to hit the road again.

Tim had gone out to do something earlier that morning and come back to tell me I wouldn't believe what we'd come through and what we'd missed seeing the night before.  I'd had some inkling of the types of passes we'd been going through, but I admit, I really hadn't expected to see this out the hotel's front doors.

There were some wildfires in the area making our view hazy...but there was something great about this moment.  When I was 16, I got my first glimpse of real mountains in the parking lot of a Walmart. While this is NOT the ideal location to see such things, I'll always remember it.  My friend Joe and I, who'd both never been faced with that sort of immensity, gawked from the sidewalk while everyone else went in to shop.

A man in a ten gallon hat (or y'know, perhaps a 2 liter hat?) came out of the store.  Noticing our gawking, he walked over to us and joked "Not from around here, are ya?"

Not much you can do to blend in at that point, so we copped to being Illinoisans who'd never been out of the flatlands enough to see what we were now seeing.  I know he must have been talking to both of us, but the way I remember it, it felt like he was speaking straight to me. He told us too often people that are from CO take the mountains for granted, and don't realize just how awe-inspiring and incredible they are.  He told us not to forget the feeling we had that day, and not to take things like that for granted.

It stuck with me.  It's strange how strangers can impact your lives or impart sudden doses of wisdom, isn't it?
Anyway, that view in Bozeman that morning from the parking lot....reminded me of that.  I wouldn't know for years what it's like to know the faces of the different peaks, or what it was like to curl up inside a kiva carved out of a cliff...but I knew I had something.

This was our third day on the road. I was starting to feel more in charge of Ol' Bumpy, rather than the other way around.

I thought the third day would be the hardest, but it turned out to be the easiest, when all things were considered.

That was in large part due to the AMAZING sights.  I don't have too many pictures from this portion of the trip, since I was doing a lot of driving....but it plays like an HD video in my head still.

All day, we wound through the mountains.  Montana might be sparsely populated, but I find that to be a good thing, because so much of the land is way too amazing to not be preserved.  I think the first four or five hours of our day were all spent weaving through the mountains, alongside sparkling rivers and pine forests.  Just when we thought it couldn't get prettier, the road would open up or we'd be up on a bridge over the Clark Fork River (which we had to have crossed no less than 10 times, I swear) and there'd be absolutely stunning things ahead of us to explore.  I'll never stop loving exploring places like this.  We couldn't get out and run until our legs fell off, but I think the excitement made both of us want to.  I never thought I'd push Montana so high up on the "places I'd like to vacation" list until this particular day.

That was all going to pale in comparison to Idaho though.   Idaho was a little bit scary.  When we'd stopped at a gas station

 (that didn't accept out of state chicks, by the way...since apparently my reading skills had gone out the window by that time...), we'd found out from Patty and her mom that it was going to be an uphill battle, so to speak.    Uphill and full 20 foot moving truck aren't really the BEST combination, dontchaknow.

We did a lot better, nervewise and I think every other way too, without the whole "shroud of darkness" thing going on.  And while we weren't in Idaho long...it was pretty amazing.

We wound up an amazing mountain pass- probably the biggest one we were ever hit, though it was dark through Washington later that night, so I could be wrong...and came down the other side to find C'ouer D'Alene.

I don't know if you'd heard anything about it.   For me, I'd been seeing signs for a while and had been wracking my brain trying to figure out what exactly made the name stick out to me.   It wasn't going to matter once we hit it though.   I wish I had pictures from this part, but if I'd have stopped in Coeur D'Alene or anywhere near it, I think neither of us would ever have gotten back in the car.

Coeur D'Alene kind of pops out of nowhere. You're still in the mountains on the approach, but you've been in the same type of environment for some time by the time you come around that all important corner.  I love the way the road is there.  You can't tell at all what you're about to see.  Then the veil just drops...and you're in what I think could be the prettiest place I've ever seen.  It was absolutely breathtaking.  I think I may honestly have gasped a little bit just out of shock.  I looked for pictures on the internet, but some things just have to be experienced in person.  It's magical, and I don't say that lightly.  You come at it from a pretty decent height, on a bridge.  To your left is a huge, sparkling blue lake. On a sunny day like the one we were having...it's like a sea of diamonds.  The mountains surround it on every side and you can see sailboats and canoes and all sorts of things dotting it.   It's expansive, and dramatic....and the kind of place you immediately want to get lost in.  I remember saying to Tim that he could drop me off there and I'll figure out how to get home.  It wasn't THAT far from my mind.  We both agreed NOT to stop at the exit near there...and I really think it was just because that place has such a draw.   I never wanted to leave.  I remember thinking "This is the kind of place I just want to live in before I die."

I barely remember anything directly after that.  The drive continued to be nice, and very scenic, but that place was hard to erase from our minds.   Idaho being the shape it is, we weren't there for too long.   It did feel kind of amazing to finally cross into Washington.  Aside from Tim being excited about moving in, I felt good about making it that far, and the drive having an end in sight.  Later that night, instead of yet another gas station and more Doritos/beef jerky/gatorade/sandwiches...we stopped for ACTUAL FOOD.

We'd been looking for a Taco Bell (hey, the road does weird things to you) for some time when we found a place with a drive-in.  When we got there, we were kind of done, driving wise. Despite our amazing day of sightseeing, the buttlegs were SEVERE, and the sun had been searing into our eyes since we'd been headed due west for some time at this point.   We took an hour break to get a burger, relax in the car, refuel, and rehydrate.  I can't believe we actually took that long, because both of us were excited for the end of the road...but sometimes, you've been on the road too long to even realize how much rest you need.

When we got back on the road, we were in the flats for a long time.  It started to get dusky, and we both started to get tired. I think the adrenaline had finally worn off.  There were still some thing of note...including the town of George.  (George, Washington...get it?) and Purdy. (Couldn't make it up if I tried).  There were some epic bridges, some winding ascents, and some major bridges.  I was fantasizing about beds, and about not having anywhere to drive the next day. And beds. Majorly majorly beds.

I think we really missed some epic sights just before we got into the Seattle/Bremerton area, and I'm a little sad for that.  It was almost a full moon so you could make out hints of what had to be the biggest mountains I'd seen on the trip, and the ascents were pretty long, though not as steep as some we'd come across.  As per usual, the more you want to get somewhere, the longer it will take you.  When we saw the Seattle sign that said we were 40 miles out, we were so happy. Seemed like no time.  We played some celebratory Nirvana and chattered and generally thought about people or beds. Or not driving.

But we had to go to Bremerton. Somehow after the 40 was 20 to Bremerton. Then it'd be another 8. Another 7.  I swear to you it was some sort of trick and it was actually 100 miles.  We pulled into Bremerton around midnight, and we got lost on the way to the house.  Worse still, when we got lost, we ended up coming around the corner only to face a little ski jump followed by a freaking SLOPE up.  Neither of us were in the mood for this, and I had to gun it to get the momentum just to get up.

After shuffling around in the house and trying to figure out sleeping arrangements, then having to recover my phone...it was FINALLY time for bed. Time for bed in Bremerton, man.

And that...is how I got to Washington.

Of course, it didn't end there.   But I needed to snooze then, and I need to snooze now.  Most of all...this is long enough.  I guess I'll catch you on the flip side for more Washington files, then. :P

Beds, man.  They're pretty excellent. (You'll never know this in a more profound way than when you're done with a road trip.)

Lost Highway- The Washington Files Part 2

On Day 2 of the Epic Washington Move Road Trip, morning broke the way it usually does for me, no matter where I am...like a plate that someone breaks over your head when you least expect it.  I've never been a morning person, and the prospect of another 12 hours of driving, not to mention the task of tag teaming the felines into their bags, gathering up the hotel room, repacking the truck and generally making your way on down the road just makes it that much harder to roll out of bed.

Roll we did though. There was a really nice hot breakfast for free at our hotel, and we had a bit more time that morning to roll out of bed with less problems and more showers and...a little bit less chaos.

North Dakota isn't without its charms.  In fact, one of my favorite teachers- my fourth grade teacher Mrs. Anderson, is from good ol' ND. It did have some picturesque farm fields, pretty little rolled bales of hay, striped fields that looked like patchwork quilts, and even the fields of sunflowers my mom had been telling me to look for.  And even though Illinois has those things...I started to feel far away in the good ways.  There's something inside me that feels freer as the land opens up the way it did.   When you can drive for miles without seeing a building, except maybe a few lean-tos or old farmhouses, most with the sunbleached, tattered roofs and walls- a skeleton from the past.   As much as I couldn't wait for the mountains-I never can...it felt good.

 I must say though, that North Dakota wasn't particularly kind to us on this trip.  Aside from construction that put us down to one lane in either direction for long stretches, which is bad enough, there were the narrow guide walls and the tall orange cones to avoid-which is harder when your truck is lane-sized....times when we had to actually drive on the shoulder (I kept praying we were balanced enough not to flip) and times when it was one lane period.

Somewhere in mid-ND, we encountered a guy driving an electrical van and pulling a trailer who....should never have been on the road in the first place.  The way he fishtailed was insane.  He'd weave between lanes, go off onto the shoulder, over-correct, and then when he pulled back on, his trailer would start this terrifying tippy little dance.  I honestly thought we were going to see the guy go over.  It was pretty scary.  We kept a good distance between us, but eventually watching the dance was getting to be too much, especially when other drivers would approach him-we cringed every time, hoping they'd get clear of him before the next time he'd cross the white line or drive on the shoulder.  We called the police on him, and at one point, we thought we saw a car pacing him, but nothing came of it.   I had to pass him, and I don't know that my heart has ever pounded that hard while driving.  I knew the guy could veer over any minute, and it seemed like it was taking forever just to get by.  If Tim hadn't been trying to talk me through it, I would NEVER have been able to make it.

After lunch that day, or shortly before (these things all run together) Tim took the wheel.  North Dakota was going to be ending soon, and we'd finally be in Montana.  Since Bozeman was our stop that night...this was going to be cause for celebration.

Something I never knew about North Dakota?  The far western portion of it is AMAZING.   It opens up into badlands.  It reminded me so much of THE Badlands in South Dakota that I loved so much when we went as kids.  I had no idea there was more than one badlands area.   My heart always jumps when the terrain starts changing, and the dirt starts going red- it's all reminders of where I always felt like I belonged.

I was loving it- watching the small canyons turn bigger, the red dirt mix with white rock, and the bands of color and dancing light.

I didn't know what to expect for a lot of this trip.  I haven't really been to North Dakota before, nor Idaho, or much of Montana...this was the first time, at least in my eyes, we were hitting paydirt...the first time that the scenery started to really take your breath away.  It was the first time we climbed, and the first time we were on roads that cut through canyons and wound like the rivers.  Watching Tim experience it for the first time I remembered how I felt....boxed in by something so much bigger than you could really put a finger on without being there....small...sometimes scared by how big it all was.  In the truck, that feeling was magnified.  Ol' Bumpy being what he was is not the most nimble of things, and on the ups, gravity really isn't on your side.  Without a good foot to the gas, there was always the chance you'd be pulled down a hill instead of going up it.

There was something neat about experiencing someone else having their first time in the mountains...I think it's the closest you'll ever get to feeling it again, but without the uncertainty that you had when it was actually you.  I tried to balance my need to take pictures of everything with helping my fellow trucker as much as I could.   I gotta say, it's hard to tear your eyes away from things like this sometimes though.

These are the places I always want to run away to.   Along the river there.  Just forget about the road, the truck...where you're going....and run out into the wild and explore.  Follow the river around the bend, step onto the tops of mesas, peer into the valleys....stay.   My friend Lewis was biking through Idaho/Washington around this time, and I saw a picture he took of his campsite along the river in Idaho...one of these days I'll have to follow that pull and take off under the blue skies, walk out on the horizon, and sleep by the rivers.  This goes on my list of thing I absolutely MUST do in my life.

We finally crossed into Montana, and decided to switch drivers.  Took a much needed break in the little welcome center, where I ran across this:

We didn't get to do those things....we had places to be, y'see.  But...I'd definitely lost my interest in sitting on a couch.   Just as soon as the land opened up like that, so did I, and all I wanted to do was explore. 

The rest of that day passed without much incident.  We headed into Montana.  I knew Montana would be quite desolate from my trip through there with my parents, and I remembered right. 

Montana is unique in that you can travel for hours without ever seeing anyone else.  As an aside? A lot of weird names for towns there.  Home on the Range, Cracker Box, Diamond Ring...

The desolate nature of the place was good for thinking, for sightseeing, and for relaxing...until it got dark. 

One thing that you don't realize when you live in the suburbs is how dark dark can be. I learned this living in New Mexico, but I've been back long enough so that when we were plunged into it...I wasn't ready. I don't think Tim was either.  The pair of us spent most of that night white knuckling our way through mountain passes, with our headlights the only light sometimes.   Tim would call out which way the road would curve ahead, so I could concentrate on the two lonely beams of light in front of me.   It's at this point I realized how great a team we were becoming.   Tim was just as scared as I was some of that night- worrying about elk, how Ol' Bumpy would handle steep grades, since they were the first we'd encountered on the trip, which way the road was going...and how much higher we'd be climbing.  I can't say I enjoyed that trip through the darkness, but I can say it really cemented the partnership, and made it clear that 2 were so, so much better than one for things like this.   

I still remember Tim asking me during a rather tense set of switchbacks if I needed quiet to concentrate or if he should talk to me.  I honestly wasn't sure I knew, but then I realized the silence was making me more tense.  So I said "No, talk to me."

About two minutes later- I'd assume this was the time it takes a stressed out brain to think of something...out of the darkness beside me I hear....

"I like Batman."

Though I didn't have the capacity to chuckle at that point, I remember it switching my brain out of panic mode.   It took me a good minute or two to respond....but soon we were talking about the Nolan trilogy, the comics...and even doing Christian Bale impressions.

It took us HOURS longer than it took Patty and her mom to get to the hotel in Bozeman, and even with the Batman conversation, we'd reached the end of our ropes, stress-wise.  Looking back...I think it was kind of neat that we did that. I know I felt like I accomplished something...I know I felt like we conquered the worst of driving conditions, and could probably  handle anything...and we knew that even if the road was like that the next day, we'd at least have the sun to guide us. 

Still, pulling into that hotel was one of the biggest sighs of relief I've sighed in quite a while.  After a quick shower, a stroll to shake off the nerves, yet another gas station sandwich, due to the late hour....and some pepsi...we turned in, having earned ourselves the title of Road Warriors

Thus ended Day 2.  Join me for the third installment tomorrow. Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel.

We've Got a Great Big Convoy....la la...la la la? (The Washington Files-A Cross Country Saga, Pt. 1)

Hello there. I never take a trip without telling all the gory details.  ;)
Ok, maybe not ALL...but at least some.
This trip was an interesting one, in that...I was driving cross country and leaving my best friend behind there.

And this beast you see above this text?  Well, my chariot awaited.  More like scariot.

I can't say we got off on the best foot the night before the trip or even the morning of.  This picture might not do Ol' Bumpy (who started off being named Billy) justice, but Ol' Bumpy was a 20 FOOT moving truck.  That's a lot of feet.  Not only was Ol' Bumpy 20 feet of truck, it was 20 feet of FULL truck.  The first time I got behind the wheel, I was not ok with it.  I've driven big things, but especially with the way things had gone this year, I was warier than ever driving in general, let alone manning a freaking leviathan.  I took the wheel the first time the night before we left, from Round Lake to Gurnee and the hotel. I was scared. It was large. Large and full and floaty and strange.  But we safely arrived. That was about all I was asking for.  It was really late at night when we got there thanks to some STELLAR movers (all sarcasm should be increased by 11 here, since they were evil) and just some misfortune.  We didn't get to sleep til late, and the next day after our first delightful gas station sandwich (a staple of this trip, and something I won't miss for a long while, if ever) we headed off to Wisconsin. Our goal? Fargo, ND.  Seemed very, very far away.  On top of this was my lingering question:

"What happens when two (kind of) strangers (myself and fellow road warrior Tim) , picked to live in an ol' bumpy moving truck for 30+ hours...work together and have their lives....um...well...truckified...stop being polite, and start being real?"

Tim and I were the chosen ones for the truck, and though it's a bit of a spoiler to the above question...it turned out really well. :) We made an excellent team.  That first day I remember it was part of my anxiety, but it started melting away pretty fast, and we became fast friends, which would be crucial later on. (foreshadow'd!)

The truck got easier to drive as we went along, and we got in a rhythm. One thing I liked is that the gasup schedule for the truck seemed to really coincide with the point at which Tim and I really needed caffeine/water/gas station sandwiches (unfortunately) or to just get out of the dang truck and run around a little.  What happens if you don't do that?

Butt legs.  It's a term I coined by 6 that evening, if I remember correctly.  When driving Ol' Bumpy and sitting in much the same position for hours on end, the bumpiness and sitting still and y'know, general road-like scenario- will make it so that when you get out of the car, you can't feel your butt or your legs. You can't tell the difference between your butt or your legs. You're not sure if you're standing or sitting.  You're not sure HOW to stand.  This, my friends...is what we call buttlegs. There should be a telethon. Or maybe there shouldn't be...

I will say...I do love driving, and I love road trips.  There was a certain responsibility that came with this one, and a lot of anxiety, but soon even a 20 foot truck started to be something I could enjoy driving or riding in, and the scenery started changing quickly.  Wisconsin is really a gorgeous state, and we got to see quite a good slice of it on our way up 94.

Minnesota wasn't our favorite state, if I recall.  This was probably due in part to it being dark, and in part to it being trafficky...and I'm fairly sure, when you're on state 3 for the day, it's got a disadvantage from the beginning for being anyone's favorite.

One thing I enjoy about road trips is the small towns.  I love to get out of the car and be on one of those specks on the map.  It's fun to try and get the feel for a place.  Oftentimes, even when you're just off the expressway, everyone knows each other, and tell stories about secretly living in a house they were supposed to be out of a month ago, what happened to Bill's truck, and who's dating whom.   You can pick up the local specialties and imagine life in a town like that.  Trading stories over coffee every morning and then working in the fields, or the factories...or grabbing your coffee and hitting the big city....it's fun to weave yourself into established stories that way.

Fargo was our stop for the night.  I think we were all ready for it when it came, though it was NOTHING like I pictured it.  I thought it'd be much more of a small town, and instead it reminded me of Gurnee.  There was a crazy alien themed bar that reminded me of Pizza Planet from Toy Story. I was dying to go there, but it was already closed when we got into town.   The Best Western in Fargo is wonderful, and we were glad to get there, get settled...and order pizza from....

Nine Dragons Schezuan and Pizza

I kid you not.  We got pizza from a mashup place-it came with fortune cookies.  And though that sounded like an unfortunate mix, it was glorious.  Fresh, hot...not from a gas station!!!  The cats got let out of their bags too, and got to run around, stretch their furry little legs, and if you're Frankie...generally amuse the public, roll around and be adorable.

Though she was bright eyed and bushy tailed...we were not, and turned in for a decent night's sleep before more open roads, bug murdering, and sightseeing. 

Half speed.

So I've been on another hiatus.  I think I ought to write more often, to be honest. I've always known it's what clears things out of my head, but sometimes I just want to keep those things close to my chest.   Right now I'm feeling that way...at least half that way.

I feel like if I *don't* get this post out of the way, I can't write about the road trip and helping my best friend move to Seattle.   So I want to write.

But I know what I'm going to need to write to get to that, and I guess I feel really guarded right now.

I mentioned to someone who proceeded to completely ignore it the way you can know something's getting in your head and causing you to feel a certain way...and that even when you can pick it out, what's doing it, and you can intellectually know it's the cause...sometimes that's not enough to get it out of your head.

I guess that's what I am going through right now.

The night I got back from the trip I had a series of bad dreams that reinforced what I already knew.  That my world here got a little bit smaller, and that when that happens...I retreat.  I make it worse because I take it to heart whether I try to or not, and I figure it's easier to just muddle through any sadness and weird thoughts on my own. I start to create trouble where there isn't any, and I get reckless.  I want so badly to run to someone I care about but it's also the last place I'll let myself go.

Well...I'm going to try to change that. I'm going to try to trust.  I feel like if I don't this time, I'll really be lost.
All those dreams I had that night? Were about the people closest to me suddenly booting me out.  It's pretty clear that I'm doing the booting in my own head, and I need to stop it.

So there. That's my "intimate chat with me" that I'm spilling onto some blog page somewhere.

Now on to trip photos and stories from the road.  Can you dig it?

Should but Didn't, Did but Shouldn't.

 

Signs you didn't see....

Sometimes when you least expect it someone hands you a mirror and you start to find the reasons for the things you didn't think there were reasons for. 

This has been on my mind for days and I've had a hard time finding the words, but I'll try to locate them and put them in some semblance of order. 

Knee jerk reactions have taken me by surprise lately- I've twice in the same night recently found myself not knowing where something came from.  First it was a pretty torrential cry that popped up in an otherwise unremarkable evening.  I've been a great "bottler" for a long time now, so when the pressure builds enough to pop the top, it's a pretty spectacular mess.  Or that's how it feels.  Still, I was with someone I trust absolutely, and more importantly than that, someone who wouldn't judge me for not knowing where the sadness was coming from exactly, and things started to calm down as I realized I wasn't alone and didn't have to be. 

Having said that though, it's another reflex besides the one I have to let things build up that bothers me.  Somewhere in that great big spill of sudden emotion,  someone reached out and said something I not only needed to hear, but wanted to.  Exactly the right thing at the right time, but not because it was the right thing to say....because it was felt and meant.   And I slammed the door in their face.  I did it with force, I did it with speed, and just as quickly as I'd done it, I regretted it.  

Like I said, this had/has gnawed at me for a while now.  In discussing it later with a friend, that mirror got handed to me.  And the things behind that shutout became clearer whether I liked it or not.  Slam the door out of fear- the fear that you're just "being a victim" and that that's how you'll live your life, playing the strings of tiny violins and bemoaning the things that happened in your past. 

But the truth is...I spend so much time avoiding that label, trying to pretend circumstances don't matter, I don't realize what effect they have.  The way growing up knowing something is glaringly missing feels...or the way that all the criticism and negativity will make you the kind of person who feels like they always have to prove themselves.   The way it feels to hear all the right words and out of naivete believe you won't get left in the dust, even though you do.every.time.   The way it feels to walk out the front door on a windy day with your heart completely in someone else's hands.    It creates fear of rejection and defensiveness and makes your heart a locked room.  Entry forbidden. 

The truth is, you don't let that define you.  While ignoring it is healthy, holding on to it can't be either.  But when someone brings so much love into a room and you slam the door shut before you realize why?   Well...I guess it's time to re-evaluate how you're doing things. 

I don't want to be that person.  I didn't know exactly that I was that person.  I regret what I said that night- I wish I could go back and let it all in completely.   One thing that makes me feel better though, is I felt understood even in that moment.  I trusted that even if I didn't say the right thing, it would be ok.  I had faith that there would be another chance.   I trust that the words that were spoken came from something very real, and harder to slam the door on than I think.  And I'm grateful for that.  

It's time to change the signs.