the pieces of my life

Buyer’s remorse is setting in and we don’t even sign the papers for another hour and a half. Phone and cable don’t get hooked up till Friday, so you won’t be hearing from me again until then. So, ’til we have house and furniture, toodle-loo!

24 Hours Till Home

So as Adam said when evalutating my almost pleasant morning mood, “It doesn’t really matter. At this point, all roads lead to crankiness.” Today is the search for paint colors and shopping at outlet stores. I wanted the chair that matched our couch, so we bought that yesterday, although it not only broke the furniture budget, I think it broke our down-payment budget. But today’s mood should be better because we have my air-conditioned car back and while there’s much to get done, the only thing that is required is our final walk-through of the house this evening. Which is good because I’m starting to forget what it looks like.

We Made It!

Arrived safely in Boston last night after two nights in the New York area. Adam and I went out to celebrate my cousin’s engagement on Saturday night in the East Village, which gave me lots of opportunities to say things such as, “Oh the East Village used to be so much cooler and less Yuppified,” and “What happend to [Insert name of bar that hasn’t existed for at least 7 years]? That was the coolest bar.” Adam and I, who are normally in bed by 10 p.m. when not under the influence of the Tweedle Twirp and her evil night ways, were doing find until Tweeds gleefully asked us, “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Hadn’t occurred to me. “It’s quarter to four!” Instantly I became exhausted and had to sleep immediately. My body is not meant for the wee morning hours unless I’m just waking up.

We made a pilgramage to Ground Zero, which was simply a hole in the ground. What shocked me is how small the whole area seemed. The World Trade Towers always seemed so massive and huge when I went down there, but the area they were on seemed too small. What I found the most affecting was seeing the buildings that were around the WTC block that were covered. One was draped entirely in black with a flag on it that I found particularly creepy. I wonder if this had happened in any other country if it would be the type of tourist destination it obviously is here. Believe me, we weren’t alone in our trip to the site.

The rest of the visit was lighter. Since we were in the city for less than 24 hours, we decided we wouldn’t call anyone, so if you live in New York and didn’t hear from us, that’s why. Simply not enough time. But we’ll be back.

And then Sunday, bleary eyed and butt sore, we made it to Boston. A surreal feeling, actually. As I said to Adam, “It doesn’t feel like this is it, that we’re now here for good.” This feels like just one more stop on our trip. I imagine after the closing on Wednesday when we fork over a bajillion dollars and have a place of our own, maybe this will feel more permanent. We’re doing what we can: today we are going to get paint samples that we can put on the walls on Wednesday afternoon so we can see what colors work in the new house. Also, we need to start furniture shopping. We’re going from 790 square feet of livable space to 1800+ square feet. That’s a lot of house to fill.

Highland Park, NJ; total miles: 3,346

Finally, a place with an Internet connection. Part of the problem of stopping in small towns is there’s no dial-in number, which means that all the great tidbits of the day are long forgotten by the time I get to connect. So here is a reconstruction of the past few days:

Drive. Drive some more. Drive, drive, drive. Be really bored. Sing some songs. Sleep. Drive, stop and see a sight, drive some more.

Of course, when I write “drive,” I really mean “passenge,” since all I’m doing is sitting in the passenger seat. I offer to drive. He never wants to take me up on that. Hmmm, wonder why.

I’ve got a passenger tan. The right side of my body is quite dark and the left rather pale. Lovely, I assure you.

Okay, so here’s what we’ve done:

Tuesday, leaving Jackson, Wyoming

A fun-filled day of drive and stop. After breakfast with my aunt, we headed through the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone, with periodic stops to look at moose and nature. Very lovely. And then we drove. All day. Till we reached the other side of Wyoming on little back highways. We stopped for the night in Moorcroft, Wyoming. What, you’ve never heard of it? Shocked!

Our pictures from Tuesday:

Jenny and the moose

The self-portrait series, 1 (The Grand Tetons)

Wednesday, leaving Moorcroft, Wyoming

How much fun can you have in one day? I think we packed just about all we could in. First, a stop at Devil’s Tower. Which was fine except that I was obsessing about not being able to remember the tune to Close Encounters, and it was making me buggy. But we walked around the Tower and it was as astounding as people say it is. The temperature was not so slowly creeping up, so we didn’t stay and do more hikes–we’re not really the nature types, me and Adam. Sure, it’s pretty to look at it, but after awhile it all looks the same.

So off to Deadwood, South Dakota, famed as the deathplace of Wild Bill Hickok. Adam and I walked the streets, had a $2.99 lunch buffet, gambled a bit at blackjack (he lost his $20, I made $5), and left with plenty of time to visit Mt. Rushmore, which is the most poorly signed national monument ever. We got a little lost (how hard could it be to find a huge rock with faces in it?) but finally made it. We both agreed we had expected it to be more kitschy, but actually it was a remarkable thing to see. What, that’s not enough excitement for you? Well, not for us either, and we saved the best for last that day: Wall Drug. We entertained ourselves for a good 100 miles reading the billboards, and you know, it’s just as good as they say!

Our pictures from Wednesday:

The self-portrait series 2 (Devil’s Tower)

Leaving Devil’s Tower

The self-portrait series 3 (Mt. Rushmore)

Adam outside of Wall Drug

The magic that is Wall Drug

Eventually, we wore ourselves out good and ended up in Murbo, South Dakota, just this side of the Central Time Zone. And we rested in preparation for…

Thursday, leaving Murbo, South Dakota

The next and final mandatory stop on any cross-country trip is, of course, the Corn Palace in Mitchell, South Dakota. As glorious as it sounds, this is a building decorated completely in corn. A wonder to see, they change the designs every year (have to, as the birds eat away at the walls), and it was truly not a disappointment. The last high point on our trip, the last checkmark to check off, so now there’s nothing to do but drive mindlessly toward the east coast. Or so we thought. Because to our absolute delight and surprise, I-90 takes you right through Austin, Minnesota, which is of course home to…

The Spam Museum

We saw the sign. “Believe the hype,” it said. And oh how we did! The Spam Museum is by far the finest museum I’ve laid my eyes on. Shiny and new with lots of buttons to press, the museum is dedicated to all that is Spam. From a movie introduction highlighting Spam haikus and a college student who for the last five years has worn a Spam t-shirt every day to the history of Hormel to the Monty Python Spam sketch, this museum leaves nothing out. Spam, it’s a beautiful thing. Worth, perhaps, a trip to Austin, Minnesota.



Adam at the Spam-packing simulator

And Then…

And then there was nothing but road. We got on the road and made it to Rockford, Illinois, pretty late. And then today, we drove 905 miles to make it to New Jersey where we are crashing at the Tweedle Twirps. Tomorrow we will spend the day in the city, attend my cousin’s engagement party, and then return to New Jersey on Sunday to retrieve our car and make it to Boston in time for our house closing this week. It’s been a long tedious drive. Never again. Although, if I recall, I’ve said that before…

Jackson, Wyoming

Okay, I’ve upgraded to the “fancier” blogger so that I can now change dates on my posts. I’m still figuring it out, but it does mean that now when I have to write three days in a row, because I can’t dial in while in some dinky town, I can still post in order. Works nicely. Anyway, we made it to Wilson, Wyoming, (which is just outside of Jackson), where we are staying in my aunt and uncle’s gorgeous house out in the wilderness. I hadn’t seen my cousin Brandon in 8 years (he’s 9 now) so it’s been great meeting him. Their house is not to be believed, I’m telling you. Huge, tons of windows, sunken couch, wood beams larger than a phone pole. You walk in and feel instant lust for the place. It’s hard not to. They have two dogs whose main purpose is to keep the cattle off their property (which also explains the huge ranch-like gate at the end of their driveway). The dogs also help keep away the coyote and the bears. We’ve seen elk, deer, and a couple of hawks so far. Anyway, as a bonus, my grandparents were here yesterday as well, so we got some good quality family time all around. Today we told my aunt, Loren, that we’d take Brandon to camp for her, because she was super busy. So we roused him from bed (late), threw the last waffles in the oven for him, and hurried him off. “Get your shoes onl,” I told him. He slips on a pair of shoes that are about 5 sizes too big for him. “Are those your shoes? They look like your mothers.” “Nope, they’re mine!” “Are you sure?” Adam looks him over and says, “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in a smaller pair of shoes?” “Nope, I want to wear these!” Adam looks at me and asks, “What do we do?” I shrug. “Let him wear them, I guess.” So off we go, Brandon swimming in his shoes. Halfway down, 15 minutes late, a thought occurs to me. “Do they feed you lunch, Brandon?” He shakes his head and giggles. “No.” “Where do you normally get your lunch?” “My mom makes me a sandwich.” Great. So off he goes to camp in huge shoes and no lunch. He promises he’s gone without lunch before, but I ply him with our travel food granola bars anyway, which of course he leaves in the car. His counselor must think I’m completely moronic.

Tomorrow we’re headed for South Dakota, via Devil’s Tower. I’m sure there will be more excitement to publish then.

604 miles, Burley, Idaho

The day started lazily with a hike outside of Cascade Locks to the top of a fall. Although, my shoe came apart on the way down, which I should have taken for an ominous sign… but I didn’t. I was annoyed that my sandal broke, until I remembered that these sandals had been bought for $20 at a Thom McCann for my first road trip in 1994. Those sandals deserved to die.

Anyway, the day moved on. And on. And on. Having only driven 207 miles the first day, we were determined to get well into Idaho today. I don’t remember my days being this long when I drove myself. But then I wasn’t in a black car on 96 degree days with no air-conditioning and no caffeine (this dull nagging headache will go away soon…it has to!). At one point, I realized that my left side was getting sunburned, so I insisted on driving a bit to even out the color. Only it seems that I’ve forgotten how to drive a stick and I got a road full of curves, so the experiment lasted quite briefly. So we drove. And drove. And drove. Stopped in Boise for dinner at about 7:30. After, we figured we’d drive about another hour and stop for the night. So we stopped for gas… and that’s when I discovered that my credit card was gone. Ugh. I’m sure I dropped it somewhere, but we searched the car to no avail. Which was minorly stressful, but not too big a deal, since Adam has a credit card and I still have a bank card. So, now we’re tired and it’s 10 p.m. and I’m out one credit card. “We can stop in Glenns Ferry,” I told Adam, who I’m a little worried about, because he’s looking a little droopy eyed. Only, there are no motels in Glenns Ferry. All the friggin’ mileage signs have Glenns Ferry, it’s a bigger name on the map, but no motels. And another 50 miles to Twin Falls. Okay, fine. So we pull into Twin Falls at about 11:15 p.m. And it’s full. Not a single room in a single hotel at all. Period. Now, it’s on to Burley. We pull into a Best Western at midnight. They have only the Bridal Room and the Executive Room left. Adam asks me, “Should we look around for a cheaper room?” The man is insane. “NO!” We took the bridal room (which is bridal, because…?) for a whopping $30 more than our budget. But we slept. And it was good. And tomorrow is another day.

Not a Good Day to Give Up Caffeine…

Moving day. Started with a 5:30 a.m. phone call from an insurance agent in Boston who didn’t realize area code 206 was in another state. Movers said they were showing at 8 a.m., so the night before was a rush to throw whatever was left in boxes. It was an emotional day all around, so we decided as soon as the movers were done, we’d take off. I’d actually seen a fair number of people in the previous week. People dropped by to say “hey” as we were packing, which meant a lot to me. But no “good-byes.” I was steadfast in the no “good-byes.”

Walking through the empty house was surreal. It was completely different from when I first walked through it: the shag carpet was replaced by hardwood and fir floors, tobacco-stained walls repainted, new sinks, new tiling, new counters, new colors, new roof, new outside paint, a garden instead of the horrible juniper-filled lawn. Walking through the empty house made me realize just how small it is. Adam and I have all these grand plans for our new house, and on my tour of the old house, I have to laugh at all the things I was going to get done “first thing” that never got done. The cutting board sitting in the basement for the cabinets that I was going to replace right away because it was such an “easy fix”; the broken drawer I was going to repair; the medicine cabinet that needed hardware to shut. I wonder what Adam and I will actually get to in our new house.

And yes, I’m trying to wean myself off caffeine. On my last official physical while I’m still an insured person, the doctor suggested it.

The Move

The movers took about 5 hours to load up the truck, which was surprising to me, because I didn’t realize how much stuff I had accumulated over the past couple of years (which, of course, would include Adam and all his belongings, but since I made him get rid of all his furniture before he moved in, I didn’t think it was that much. Adam’s a small guy. In fact, when he moved in, before we were engaged, I was telling the Tweedle Twirp, “Yeah, he’s not bringing his bed or his couch… or his lamp, now that I think of it.” “What is he bringing?” “Um, I’m okay with his Dunkin Donut mug.” “This is so he can never leave, right? ‘Get out now! But all you can take is your Dunkin Donut mug. He’ll have nowhere to sleep, sit, or read, he’ll only be able to have a cup of coffee, so he’ll have to stay!”). It took an hour when I moved in. I roped about 12 friends and convinced them to help me move. Bill showed up and I said to him, “Hey, guess what, you’re driving the truck!” I may have been bossy, but that was the fastest move in the history of moves.

While the movers worked, I lay around. Took a nap in the car. At one point, I became sentimental, so Adam and I walked down to Ballard Market to buy wax paper, so I could cut flowers from our garden to press. In our already overfilled trunk, right now, is a Seattle phone book stuffed with flowers.

So Now We’re Off

So at about 2:30, we hit the road. We stopped at Barnes and Noble to pick up a Lonely Planet: USA, since on this trip we’ll actually stop along the way. We’re also armed with Roadside America, which was a present from my girlfriends. Our first destination is Wilson, Wyoming, which is just outside of Jackson Hole. My aunt and uncle live there so we thought we’d pass through. Rather than take I-90 across, Adam suggested we first go to Portland, and head across on I-84. That way, we could make our final pilgrimage to Powells, the finest books store in the world, bar none. The only problem with this idea is that I’ve only traveled I-90 east a handful of times. I’ve done the I-5 route millions of times, and it was one long reminder of what I’m leaving. From leaving U-District (where I started the STP with Eugene, Todd, Scott, Laura, and Kate in the Montlake parking lot; Husky Stadium where I ran the Beat the Bridge race Mary, Jen, Sandra, Pam, Juliewa, Julie P., and Pam; the IMA where I used to play racquetball with Andy in my grad school days), passing through the city (the new REI where I suited up for my first local camping trip with Rico and Steve; passing the building my father named for me [“Look at that tall building! I think we should name it the Jenny Building”]; passing US1 and 2 in the International District, where I’ve worked the past bunch of years; Safeco field, where Adam and I had one of our earliest dates). Different signs along I-5 make me think of other adventures: Yakima, my first wine trip with Barb, Andy, Steve, Rico, and Jill (anyone remember Jill?); Mt. Ranier, hikes with that same crowd, snowshoeing with Jeff; Puyallup, going to the fair with Marc. Yeah, yeah, now I’m being self-indulgent and sentimental. So now, let’s get on with this trip.

Homeless

Did I say we were going to go to Portland? The great thing about working is you forget what day of the week it is. Which means you think nothing when you’re husband says, “We should go through Portland”… on a sunny summer afternoon… in July… on a Friday. Yikes. The normal 3-hour trip took 5 hours. Five very cranky hours. But we made it, and I exercised extreme control at Powell’s, buying only one WPA guide (which I sort of collect. I say I collect them, but I’ve only got 5 now. However, I figure 3 make a collection, so I collect them, dammit!). There was a beautiful pristine copy of the New Orleans guide, but it was on the pricey side and I actually already have New Orleans, so I didn’t splurge. I’m collecting because I love the guides—not for the value of the books (everyone know what the WPA guides are? They’re a series of guide books put out during the Depression to keep writers working and to encourage this new-fangled way of traveling: by car).

So right now we’re at a Motel 6 just outside of Portland, on I-84, and today we continue our trip east. Notable conversation of late:

After I declare a need to be entertained, Adam tells me a story of two of his friends who are inseparable.

J: Why aren’t we inseparable?

A: Because when we’re together for too long, you get cranky and want me to go away.

J: I think we should be inseparable.

A: You might want to think about that for a little bit, before you ask for it…

It’s going to be a long trip, folks!

Okay, the movers are coming at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning, so this is most likely my last official Blog on my Seattle home computer. As soon as I’m done with this, I’m going to pack my lovely flat-screened monitor, ergonomic keyboard, and DSL-connected computer and start using my hand-me-down laptop. When the movers are done in the morning, we’ll get in Adam’s air-conditioner-free car and hit the road. We’ll be headed first to Wilson, Wyoming, to visit my aunt and uncle, and then we’ll be driving more or less aimlessly to get to Boston by about July 29th or so.

I’m feeling emotional today, and I imagine it will only get worse. There’s no point in describing it here–everyone knows how much I’ll miss them and how much I’ll long for Seattle. So no more. Not for now. Now, I’ll just keep packing.

Bye from Seattle!

A Web site about our new home town, if you’re interested. Who knew Click and Clack lived there? Enough reason alone to like Arlington.

Say That to My Blog

Thanks so much to Grant for showing me that fast and easy way to throw up a comments link (and thanks to BlogOut for making is so darn easy!). So now instead of e-mailing me your witty asides and criticisms of what I’ve posted, you may post it yourself for the world to read. Have at it!

Not Procrastinating

By the way, I really am packing. I’m not sitting here in front of my computer working on my Blog. No, not me. Uh uh, no way.

Four Days and Counting

Hard to believe my Seattle life is almost at an end. I’m really trying not to think about it. My friends have been so awesome: throwing us bbqs, making photo albums for us, giving us stuff for our road trips, bringing us food while we pack. In return, I think what we’re going to do is sneak out of town and not say good-bye. Seriously! Good-bye is too difficult and too final. I’d rather leave as if I were going on vacation. I mean, I will be back. Soon. Often. Really. No good-byes.