Well, we can safely say I'll never be one of those bloggers who write long boring fascinating travelogues while on the road. I took a blogging, no, actually a computer break for the week. Ironic as I was surrounded by computers in a tech-rich environment.
Here's one shot that gives you a taste of Texas.
One of Henry's more entertaining homework projects last year was to plan out what he'd pack in a covered wagon to cross the Oregon Trail. Each kid was assigned a character, with or without family in tow, and told how many pounds they could carry. There were a few mandatories and the rest they had to figure out based on a list of random items and weights. We had a good time debating how many boots and axes and bedrolls to stuff in. Henry's pig ended up riding in the wagon with the family and he had to ditch the grandfather clock at the last minute to fit in a side of beef, I recall. Tough choices, really.
Today we're back at it, packing up the [station] wagon and setting out for the southeast in the morning. First we head north over the mountain passes to Portland town, then onto the big silver bird to Austin, Texas, to visit MyBigBro, known to this blog's readers as YrBigBro.
Preparing for an expedition is always an ordeal around here. As usual, it all starts with laundry. Organizing Flash, cats, fish, mail and Henry somehow always falls to me, with Henry in charge of movies, Hot Wheels and snacks. Kennels and neighbors are lined up, litter boxes are cleaned, plants watered, a variety of electrical gadgets are charged and loaded, and of course there are the knitting projects to plan out. My standard method is to pack everything, take half of it out then stuff most of it back in while dragging the bags to the car.
Along with missives by Pony Express and the Wells Fargo wagon, I'll be blogging, tweeting, texting and foursquaring as we go. Wish us godspeed and pray that we don't fall afoul of injuns, typhus, runaway oxen or the one-pound Cinnabons in the San Jose airport. We're hitting the trail. Yee-haw!
If you've been to a swanky hotel in the last few years, you may have been given your menu options of pillows, like this:
How many people do you think actually order up body pillows? Or, you might be like one of the people I used to travel with on business and you already packed your own pillow and comforter (you know who you are...).
But at this last haute spot I stayed in, we were given further options:
I'm curious about that "Help Me" button - do they send up a spiritual adviser?
I ordered both the Quran and the Torah, just to confuse them. Now I'm on a watch list at Homeland Security.
Drowning Girl by Roy Lichtenstein
What idiot said: "Don't sweat the small stuff -- and it's all small stuff"?
Actually, he's right, it pretty much is all small stuff. But it all has to be sweated, or it won't get done. Then what do you have?? The fabric of our society torn apart, rather than just fraying at the edges.
I'm having one of those nights. Here's what I'm obsessing about:
Sometimes it's all too much. Nothing to do but have another glass of wine and tackle today's Sudoku. Or whine about it in a blog post.
What do you do when you're being sucked under by the small stuff?
The not-so-friendly skies
I got this email from from Sister #1 and had to share:
"In the last 8 weeks I’ve had:
-- 18 take-offs and landings;
-- 3 de-icings;
-- 1 long delay at a connecting airport due to snowstorm fouling up schedule;
-- 1 delayed departure due to bad weather at destination;
-- 1 pre-dawn flight in total darkness (cabin lights inoperable due to cold overnight temps);
-- 1 crew-change delay due to bad weather elsewhere causing late arrival of incoming flight with new crew;
-- 1 return-to-gate (mechanical problem) with rebooking on later flight on same airline;
-- 1 cancelled flight (mechanical problem) with rebooking on much later flight on different airline; and
-- 2 last-second aborted landings 15 minutes apart (pilot said he couldn’t see the runway), rerouting to another airport, 2-hour wait on the other airport’s runway, flight cancelled, and long bus ride back in snow and fog.
I guess the good news is my luggage was never lost and no one broke their hip putting my suitcase in the car."
[note: my dad fell with a suitcase last year and broke his other hip. He's recovered.)Scene: The upscale restaurant of an unnamed Portland hotel. Three women having lunch. Chatting, laughing, eating. One of the women has the "chicken noodle soup": a bowl of broth, two petite chicken roulades and a large vegetable ravioli on the bottom. Very nouvelle.
Suddenly: "Is this food?" the woman asks, taking a ring of plastic out of her mouth and examining it, possibly mistaking it for cellophane noodles.
It was not.
After much hilarity, discussion and negotiations with the staff, the soup charge is removed and a dessert is provided.
Final question, when the bill is presented: "Do you take plastic?"
Waitress answers: "No, we only serve it." Ba-dum-bump.
The soup
The object in question
Ahhh - business trip. I've taken an informal poll (of three) and have concluded that moms who work love business trips. Time alone to relax, luxuriating in the bathroom without little hands trying to open the door, no one saying "I'm hungry!" every half hour, someone else cooking, cleaning and catering to your needs. Plus a little shopping between meetings. It's not all bad.
I miss cities, especially old cities. Portland reminds me of Boston a little as do Seattle and San Fran - old cities with rich histories, old architecture and interesting people. We're staying right in the heart of town and it looks beautiful right now - lights on the old building cornices, in the trees, stores all bright and shiny.
This hotel is one of the new trendy urban models, sleek and arty. The building was the old Meier & Frank department store and Macy's is now on the first floors. I imagine that my room used to be in the ladies' lingerie section.We're right on Pioneer Square across from Nordstrom's and an upscale mall. It's all eye candy for a gal from a small town on the other side of the mountains.
I only have one complaint: why can't fancy hotels use soap dishes?
I know it would mess up the super sleek zenlike bathroom, but it's annoying. As a mom, I fret about having to wipe up the counter constantly. Though of course it's not me doing it this time.
The Museum gang is headed to Portland for some work events requiring major wardrobe: cocktail party, business meetings, casual work, formal reception and banquet plus the usual 7 hours round-trip in the car.
Only a few days, but around here every trip is an event. It all starts with laundry. Then there's homework organization; assigning cats and mail to neighbors; packing for me, dog and child; dog to kennel; child to friends: everything requires a plan. Sometimes I envy neighbor X: when he travels he just waters the plants and locks the door.
Plus, I have to plan my knitting strategy: what presents I can knit that 1. aren't destined for anyone on the trip, 3. can be knit in the car and 3. don't need major pattern concentration. Sounds like socks to me.
Odds of these being done by Christmas: 0-5%.
Back in the wonderful state of Oregon, but not much else to say. I can't face recounting our endless travel saga, and vacation was vacationy: eating, drinking, reading, family and hanging around the pool. Very pleasant -- too bad we have to travel two days to experience it.
The X-man dropped by for a visit yesterday and was pressed into fixing stuff. It's so nice to have a man around the house and all that. This photo is from that effort.
And the day got screwier from there.
You know the purported Chinese curse: "May you live in interesting times." This has been an interesting year, both globally and personally. Because this blog is ALL ABOUT ME, here is a top ten list of interesting things that happened in my life this year. (in chronological order - I'm not about to rank them!)
1. I started the Bend Knit-Up, which grew from six people to over a hundred in a year.
2. My dad turned 90, and we all celebrated together in NC and everyone got along.
3. AT&T bought Edge Wireless, and we no longer had any work, though we still had jobs.
4. Neighbor X and I broke up, got together, and finally broke up.
5. I taught myself the whole blogging thing, that which you are reading at this instant.
6. Henry and I went back east for a family trip and went to Fenway. Go Sox!
7. We were finally released from AT&T, though were still paid, allowing me a summer off.
8. I spent the summer off shoveling dirt and hauling rocks for my waterfall.
9. I got a new job at the High Desert Museum - yay! and patted a badger.
10. My dad broke his hip and I flew back east for the third time.
What were your interesting times?
Fun
We decided it wouldn't be a real Christmas without getting stuck in a snowstorm in the mountains, so we got in the car this am and are headed over the pass.
We're going to Portland to rescue our friend Mark who is trying to fly in from LA. Why we aren't flying there is a good question.
This should be fun. The entire city of Portland requires chains. Not snow tires. Chains. Plus we're driving over with Neighbor X just to keep it awkward. More posts to come!
Unfortunately, it didn't occur to me that doing a Christmas Countdown would entail blogging every day. Aackk, the pressure! But If you're up for reading, I'm up for writing...
Here is a phonecam picture through my windshield during my commute this morning. IMHO, this is a good day to never leave the house. But school was on and so was work, so I forged ahead. In Central Oregon, we sneer at weather like this. Or actually, we cheer at weather like this. This is a snow-crazed town. People's spirits are up and excitement is high right now, especially after the dry Thanksgiving we had.
Luckily, I like snow. I especially like snow at Christmastime. This dump might get kind of old and ratty by a week from now, so I'm hoping for fresh on Christmas. Now that I have a nine-year-old who can shovel, I'm good.
What's your weather like?
Christmas Countdown #8: Eggnog
I love eggnog. I like it homemade, and I like the over-sweet sticky stuff straight out of the carton. I only buy “light” eggnog (there’s an oxymoron) – I can’t handle the sugar and fat shock of the full-strength variety. I'm sort of obsessed with Starbuck's eggnog lattes, and I especially like eggnog with some rum and bourbon laced in. In fact, I’m sipping some right now!
Eggnog reminds me of a Christmas morning long ago when my
husband Jay and I were driving our old VW bus from Boston to New Haven for
Christmas with my sister and family. The bus (which we bought used and then
drove across the country) seized up on the turnpike near Groton.
We had our Siberian husky, Buns, in the back, along with our presents and a pitcher of real homemade eggnog, complete with whipped egg whites, full cream, alcohol and all, that was my big Christmas morning food contribution. We ground to a halt halfway down an exit ramp and waited for the highway patrol. I opened the bus's sliding door and Buns jumped out, knocking over the eggnog and running up and down the highway. The bus reeked of hard liquor and was covered in sticky alcoholic goo. We suddenly weren’t as excited about flagging down the highway patrol.
Jay hiked down to some ratty-looking apartments to call my sister while I tried to catch the dog. I don’t actually remember much of the rest of the visit, other than renting a U-Haul to tow the bus back to Boston. I always regretted losing that eggnog, though, and when I make it I remember Jay and that crazy dog.
I've discovered how to instantly travel through time, both past and future. Visit your parents.
Alone with my parents, with no siblings or children to anchor me in the present, I became the lonely eleven-year-old again, or a self-conscious fourteen, or maybe a sullen sixteen, trailing along after my mother, carrying grocery bags of stuff and sighing deeply. My parents reminisce about some cute (embarrassing) thing I did when I was ten, my dad says I'm a good little nurse, my mom gives me chores. They even call me by my childhood nickname (which I despise).
Then, suddenly, I'm the adult caretaker. Clearing up the AT&T bill, fixing the answering machine, driving everywhere, showing my mom how to use the cellphone, cooking meals and cleaning up.
Seeing my father in a nursing home (for his rehab) was a shock: sort of a ghost of a possible Christmas future. I wondered how he felt: completely lucid and healthy, surrounded by his age cohort but not of them in a way, but unable to leave. Good motivation to get through rehab and get back home.
All in all, an unsettling trip, reminding me to appreciate the present time once again.
Top ten airports I frequent, and my notes:
1. RDM: this is the local Bend airport. Very small, but growing. Easy parking, militant TSA ladies, basically no services, but who needs them?
2. PDX: I've always liked the Portland airport - it had great retail back when most airports didn't yet. Long-term economy parking is well-managed. Good beer/wine/pizza bar and Powell's Books. The commuter air gates are a little funky and overcrowded, but there's good coffee everywhere.
3. SEA: Great art throughout. Fish inlays in the floor. Great wine bar. Great sushi. Great coffee. Quick massage and pedicure spot. Like it all.
4. AVL: the local Asheville NC airport. A lot like Bend's but southern. Free internet. No food options, but lots of rocking chairs.
5. ATL: I kind of hate the Atlanta airport. Old, crowded, long long terminals. Crowded train system between terminals. Bad fried food everywhere. Sullen service. Poor retail. Charge for internet. Yuck.
6. and 7. LGA: Old, crowded, nasty. Buses between terminals. Avoid. EWR: Same for Newark.
8. CIN: It took me a long time to figure out why the Cincinnati airport is in Kentucky. Plus I can't ever tell what time zone it is. Decent, but chain, food and retail. Not bad overall, except the very inconvenient bus to the commuter terminal. Pain in the butt.
9. SLC: I like this airport: clean, easy to maneuver, new, nice retail. Mormons are very pleasant, really. The whole place smells like Cinnabon.
10. LAS: I don't actually use the Las Vegas airport much, but had to add it to the list as it stands out. The moving walkway tunnels between terminals have really cool disco light action. However, I don't know about you, but it makes me nervous to see airline pilots gambling at slot machines before the flight.
Asheville airport. What's the deal with all the rocking chairs anyway?
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