the pieces of my life

Sent the Tweedle Twirp and the Mother packing today. Now, it’s just me and Boston. Did a bit o’ shopping today. Note to self: Filene’s Bargain Basement is best visited when wearing a bra; dressing rooms are communal. Explored the city a bit. Got lost a few times. Clocked how long it would take me to get to my morning appointment tomorrow (15 minutes plus another 15 minutes, since I’ll be wearing heels). A nice mellow day. Tomorrow I’m back in Natick at Sue’s, killing time until I pick up Adam at the Logan Express bus stop on Wednesday morning.

Um, I guess I owe an apology or something to Debbie H. She said she wanted to take a duck tour in Seattle and I mocked her to pieces. So, while Melissa and I are here, we decided to take a duck tour. Only we were SHUT DOWN! We went by at about 11:45 a.m. and they were already sold out for the day. See, Deb! I told you the duck tours sucked!

Instead, we took a swan boat ride in the Commons, waded in the Frog Pond and had ice cream, and then met up with my mother to walk the Freedom Trail. The Freedom Trail, by the way, is a rip off. It’s a red line that travels for two and a half miles through the city marking off places of note. However, there was more than one vendor actually *on* the trail and their stuff was not free! The nerve!

Tonight for dinner was too much food. Lobster, mussells, clams, corn, chowder (that’s chowda). Yum. Full. It’s Adam’s fault. He always makes me eat too much food. It’s even worse when he’s actually with me.

The Tweedle Twirp did approve the house. We’re just under a mile from the commercial center at Arlington Heights, which we explored. Found the Trader Joes, the video store, the Brigham’s Ice Cream, even the Dunkin Donuts.You know what sucks about moving here? It means I finally have to learn to spell Massachusetts. Or is that Massachussetts? Who can remember these things?

So, I didn’t get a number in the New York marathon, but I did get something even better… a house!! It’s a darling four bedroom, two bathroom bungalow in an area called Arlington (it’s about 9 miles from Boston and, as my father checked, 1.09 miles from the nearest Starbucks). It’s got a huge backyard (although my mother says it’s a nice size and it’s all a matter of perspective. I think it’s humongous), hardwood floors, a gas stove, and a front porch swing! The only thing I wanted that it didn’t have is a fireplace, but given how great the place is, I’ll live. I looked at some truly yucky expensive places. I saw this place on the first day and knew it would be perfect, but as Sue says, you can’t fall in love with a property until you own it (which we don’t yet, but soon!). As I said to Adam, I didn’t just think, “Oh, this is the best house I’ve seen.” I thought, “Wow, I love this house!” I’d love it just as much if it were in Seattle. I was worried about getting it because it’s so darling and it just went on the market on Wednesday. Check out the pictures of the place at www.jennyandadam.com/house. And with the layout, all of you can come visit us and we won’t feel cramped at all. I know Adam is nervous about this–he’ll see if for the first time at the inspection on Wednesday at 1 p.m. (which will be rough for him, since he will be taking a red-eye in on Tuesday night and getting in on Wednesday morning. He’ll be beat at the party we’re going to Wednesday night). But I’m completely confident that he’s going to love it. After all, he’ll get his own office, he can build massive shelves for our DVD collection, and he can grill all he wants to.

Whew! So things are definitely looking up. The car at first couldn’t be fixed and was going to have to be towed to the Toyota dealership. Then yesterday, they found the electrical problem. I should be able to pick it up today, although I’m sure it’s going to cost an arm and a leg. But right now, I don’t care. I can relax a little and begin to check out the town a little more stress-free. I’ve had some great meetings/conversations about jobs out here and my resume is making the rounds. Today, the tweedle twirp (who got into town last night and is entertaining Mom while I get stuff done at Kinko’s) will check out the house and give her seal of approval.

Today was a terrible, no good, very bad birthday. The pimpmobile died on the middle of Route 16 in Medford. It’s now resting happily in an auto shop while I am not so happily driving a green Saturn rental car. Sigh.

Boston, MA

248 miles

It’s my birthday, it’s my birthday, doin’ the birthday dance. Yeah!

I made it. Didn’t think I would. Took almost 2 hours to go the first 60 miles out of Jersey. Of course, I almost didn’t make it out. Couldn’t figure out the gas station. Guy thought I was a moron. I drove around on the wrong side of my gas tank to find the self service.Duh. No self service in Jersey.

On my way in I thought, I should have a better map. Hey, wouldn’t it be great if they made bigger maps of these areas? I guess it would be too big for a map. Hey, they could make like a book of maps! And then it hit. Oh, yeah, they do. It’s called an Atlas. And why didn’t I have one with me? Second duh of the day.

I paid a $1 for a can of Diet Coke and was grateful. Sad.

Looking at the rest stops, I seem to have travelled the farthest. No one else had plates from as far away.

I have to log on from Kinkos since it’s hard to connect from someone’s house. So updates will be short and sporadic until we hit the hotel. But that’s okay, because right now I’m too stressed about the job search to write much here.

I just noticed that my blog is still posting at PST. So, if you see the time on my entries from Montana, add an hour. If you see an entry from North Dakota, add two hours. Postings from last night and tonight and from here on out should have three hours added. I’d change it in the system, only I just tried and it changed the time on all the postings. Odd. So I’ll leave it on Pacific time until I’m officially and permanently on the East Coast.

Highland Park, NJ

726 miles (I think. I forgot to check before coming in)

Ah, had my first Starbucks in days today. I was jonesing for a grande nonfat iced latte with light vanilla, but I couldn’t find one anywhere. In North Dakota, I had Adam look up to see where there was a Starbucks in Bismarck or Fargo. That would be nowhere. How can there be a state with no Starbucks? The day before I left town, I called Adam at work. “I’m downtown. Want to meet for a coffee? We can meet at the Starbucks across the street from Nordstrom.” Thank goodness he spotted me as I was walking and called to me. “What are you doing here?” I asked him. He looked confused and pointed at the Starbucks. “Oooh,” I said. “Right. I meant the other Starbucks across the street from Nordstrom.” And North Dakota gets none. Doesn’t seem right.

You can barely read my front license plate for all the bugs.

I’ve entered the land of manicured lawns and frizzy hair. In Seattle, I had a wild lawn and very neat hair (well, relatively so). Don’t you just love humidity?

When the road curves right, I tend to panic a bit and I always lean with the car as I’m curving. Which is odd, because I have absolutely no problem with left curves. Yeah, I know, it’s weird. Whatever.

Ohio has the most amazing rest stops anywhere. They’re huge, with food courts and shops and nice bathrooms. Of course, I paid $8.30 for the pleasure of driving on their highway, but at least there I know where the money is going. Unlike Illinois where I paid out for crappy roads. Speaking of tolls, what’s the deal with the East Coast and tolls? Are there any tolls in the West? I can’t think of a single one. There was one in Tacoma, but they stopped charging the toll once the road was paid off, which seems logical to me. These are freeways. Free. What is so hard to get about that?

My head must have been in the clouds because at two of the pit stops I made today, I said “hi” to the folks next to me as I got out of the car. They looked at me oddly. I forgot it’s now time to stop being friendly.

At the Tweedle Twirp’s I was waiting to use the computer and lying on her bed, as that’s the only place that has a breeze coming in:

Me: “Oh, a short-necked swan,” I said, holding up a stuffed animal.

TT: “It’s a duck. Aurora.”

Me: “Why Aurora?”

TT: “Aurora means Dawn. That’s the Duck of the Dawn. And next to you is Northrop Bumps the seal, Gray Bear, and Clearance Monkey.”

Me to Gray Bear: “Guess she didn’t feel very creative the day she got you.” To TT: “Why Clarence?”

TT: “Not Clarence. Clearance Monkey. We bought him on clearance.”

So pragmatic, that Tweedle Twirp. I brought up the fact that one of the Dakotas wants to drop the directional and just be Dakota.

TT: “Oh, it’s North Dakota. Definitely North Dakota. South Dakota has no problems with its directional. Although, what they should do, since both their populations are dropping, is to just combine into one state called Dakota. And actually, that would be good, because while people say that Puerto Rico shouldn’t become a state for cultural reasons and whatnot, really, a lot of people don’t want it because it would make 51 states. 50 is such a good easy number. But 51 states? So if the Dakotas combined, you could add Puerto Rico and still have 50 states, so it would really work out best for everyone.”

I just read the above to TT to make sure I hadn’t misquoted her, and she said, “Just cut off the part about ‘best for everyone’ because I’m not sure statehood for Puerto Rico is best for everyone.” So scratch that from the record.

I played the A3 song “Woke Up This Morning” at top volume as I crossed into New Jersey and I pretended I was Tony Soprano. Hey, it was a long day.

Did I call this a real part of the world yesterday? Don’t know what I was thinking….

Yesterday

Jamestown, ND

752.10 miles

Too many pit stops to count

Montana may have higher speed limits, less road work, and more interesting scenery, but North Dakota is way better because the rest stops are totally cool (vending machines! Phones!) and there are real live actual radio stations in this state. Including NPR. Although, you can’t hear songs like “Good-bye twenties, hello minivan.”

The Little Bighorn Battlefield was on my route. That anniversary of that battle is next Tuesday. Easy to remember Custer’s Last Stand when it’s on your birthday. (Hint, hint, that’s my birthday coming up on Tuesday, not yours.)

This trip is just like Frontier House, only instead of traveling west to start a new life in the wilderness, I’m traveling east to start a new life in preppydom. And instead potentially dying from the elements, I could potentially die from boredom.

In North Dakota I lost both an hour and all feeling in my left butt cheek. However, neither was a surprise this time.

There’s a place in North Dakota (Exit 7 on I-94) called Home on the Range.

I’m already sick of my music. I’ve listened to everything twice, except my mixed CD, which is the only thing that still keeps me entertained (thanks KAG!), although I’m guessing that after listen number 7 tomorrow, it might start to wear off. Surprisingly, Barry Manilow is not the driving motivator I had thought he would be.

I’m in a friggin’ smoking room, because I made it to Jamestown and I was starving! My own fault, of course, because I can’t bear to stop for food and lose precious driving time. I got to the Holiday Inn Express, and I asked if the restaurant next door was still open. “Till 10,” he said. It was 9:42. “Give me a room.” “All I’ve got is smoking.” I debated: I could go to the hotel next door, but then I’d be stuck with Arbys. I took the smoking room. Of course, I’m not sure that dinner at the WagonMaster was worth it. I’ve been craving pasta since the chicken wing night. Apparently, no one out here has heard of Italian food. The closest they get is Pizza Hut. Every now and then, I crave pizza and there’s nothing around but a Pizza Hut. I think to myself, “It can’t be as bad as I remember.” And then I eat there. And then it is. I didn’t fall for that tonight. So instead of a carbo-filled meal of pasta, I had steak for dinner.

Today

South Bend, IN

847.2 miles

I keep a little notebook with me in the car and I jot notes during the day, which is how I remember what to blog at night. However, I left it in the car, and I’m on the second floor of the Days Inn in South Bend, and it’s not the most attractive place, so I’m going to just wing this. If I forget anything, I’ll add it tomorrow.

I was going to comment on how horrible a driver I am at night, but I realized it might alarm my parents who read my blog, so I won’t mention it.

Minnesota, Land of 10,000 Lakes, my ass. I counted all of 14.

Carcass count: 4 ½ deer, 1 fox, 5 raccoons, countless unidentified animals.

The land of the toll booth:

From the border of Illinois to the border of Indiana there were eight, count them eight tolls of 40 cents each. I would’ve happily paid $2 once. Hell, for the privilege of stopping only once, they could’ve charged me $3.

Every time I passed a sign for Eau Claire, I thought I should beat someone up for making noises about the Bear.

I was psyched to get to Minnesota because I knew they had NPR (from “Marketplace is produced by Minnesota Public Radio”). Of course, just my luck, I caught them during their Summer Pledge Drive. I couldn’t handle more than a few minutes of it.

Adam said tonight, “I miss you. I wish I were there with you right now.”

I said, “Really? Because I was wishing you were here instead of me right now.”

Tonight I entered my new home time zone.

Since I’ve gotten so far, I’ve decided to make a detour. At the rate I’m going, I’d reach Boston either late, late tomorrow night (it’s about 874 miles from South Bend, with no time zone change) or really early on Monday. Since my mom’s not coming in till Tuesday, and I don’t know the folks we’re staying with, I’m going to head to New Brunswick tomorrow to visit with the Tweedle Twirp. I’ll still be in Boston by about 4 or 5 on Monday.

Dictated over the phone to Adam:

“I’m in Jamestown, ND. It sucks. I’m not only in a smoker’s room, but I can’t even get this stupid dial-up to work here. Which is why I’m dictating this to Adam rather than giving you the amusing details of my completely and totally and utterly boring day. Tomorrow I’ll be in a real part of the world and will post it then.”

I-90 from Start to Finish

Butte, MT

611.3 miles

Four pits stops: two in Washington, one in Idaho, one in Montana

My butt hurts. Random thoughts from my 10 hours on the road:

Seattle was gorgeous as I left—crisp and clear with perfect views of Mt. Ranier and Mt. Baker. Of course, there was traffic at 10:20 a.m., but that’s Seattle for you. Before I left, I debated taking the gym parking sticker off my car. “What if I want to park near the gym when I’m back?” I think it I realized for the first time that the car wasn’t going to be back in Seattle, that I’m leaving it in Boston. Threw me for a minute.

Boredom set in at mile 208. Loud music and Diet Coke helped somewhat. The legal limit for alcohol is .08. Why is there no legal limit for caffeine?

There are no rest stops for the first 88 miles of I-90. There’s only one rest stop on I-90 in all of Idaho.

I couldn’t eat all day. I kept burping up chicken wings. My stomach didn’t hurt or anything, just the idea of food was rather nauseating. I passed a restaurant called Wingers. Didn’t strike me as the least bit amusing.

My windshield has become bug heaven.

Amusing game between me and the car: too hot, AC goes on. Too cold, AC goes off. Too hot, too cold. Not a damn thing in-between.

Ritzville… ain’t.

There’s a Martha Inn in George, Washington. I’m not sure why this amused me as much as it did.

Lost my phone signal and an hour in Montana. For some reason, was surprised by both.

Butte, Montana, fills up. Apparently, according to the clerk at the Best Western (because the Motel 8 had no vacancies) every idiot knows that, except for me. I got one of two rooms left at the Red Lion.