Today at work we were discussing our travel plans for the holidays and somehow the conversation got around to how much we hate having to drive through Ohio: It’s boring, ugly, the speed limit is ridiculous, the cops there suck.  On and on we went listing the state’s many and varied flaws before I ultimately summed it up by declaring “Those boring Ohioans!!”

I then asked a heretofore silent co-worker, a recent new hire, “Where are you going for the holiday?”

“Back to Ohio.”

Yikes, foot in mouth! 

Ohio, I officially absolve all of your residents of any responsiblity for your boring and ghastly western percentage. It’s really not their fault. I also acknowledge your attempt to rectify the situation by having a fascinating and comely eastern smidge and (provided you stop comparing Cleveland to Detroit) promise to only hang my head in silent shame over our shared border.

The usual pat-down is the alternative for those who choose to opt out of the new nude full-body scanners. It might not be as great of a trade-off as it sounds, however, since TSA staff have been instructed to give a more thorough examination than travelers are used to.  How thorough is this, exactly?

My husband did a mock pat-down of me to illustrate how he imagined the new, more invasive procedures might go. When imagining that stranger was doing it, I felt violated and a little upset! I really don’t relish the thought of airport personnel rifling around in my crotch or any other place on my body that I hold near and dear. I’ve had the back-handed pat-down before and didn’t mind it at all, and I had imagined that the new procedure probably wouldn’t be terribly horrendous, but after my husband’s “demo” I almost didn’t want to risk psychological trauma!

On the other hand, who really wants a stranger to see a naked picture of them just so they can get on a plane? My husband has threatened to just show up nude at the airport and save them the trouble… Still, the images probably aren’t saved permanently anywhere and there probably aren’t any health risks from going through the scanners every once in awhile… or are there?  TSA claims that the pictures will never be used or seen anywhere else, that they’re more skeletal than fleshy, and that the scanners are safe for our health, but a whole lot of money was spent on getting these machines into use.  Monetary investments always create bias.

Our next flight is planned for the spring. We’re flying to California, and my husband has threatened to have us drive instead. I think that’s going a little overboard, but at the same time I’m still not sure which is the better choice if faced with a rock and a hard place: nude scanning or invasive groping? I still haven’t been able to decide.

The changes have provided inspiration for everything from cartoons about body scanners and pat-downs to “Don’t Touch my Junk” T-shirts.  The same scanner images appear everywhere, along with illustrations of how easy it would be for someone who got hold of your picture to merely invert the image and see your body in detail.

In the spotlight is Meg Mclain, who relates to Alex Jones a tale of trauma, overreaction, and humilation when she refused both the body scanner and pat-down. Her story, however, isn’t substantiated by video surveillance of the airport. Two videos, one of the scanner area and one of her exit, seem to contradict her story. I think we need to be careful not to get all riled up over accounts like this in which the person in question either deliberately expounded on the facts or remembers the events differently than the way they actually happened…

On the other hand, the stories in this news report sound pretty bad…. I especially feel sorry for the old man who was just trying to go celebrate his wedding anniversary with his wife.

On a positive note, anecdotal reports from friends who’ve flown recently indicate that the pat-downs still aren’t so offensive. I look forward to hearing from more people I know before it’s my turn to fly the friendly skies. Your comments on the subject are especially welcomed!

While on a weekend trip to Ohio last weekend, I made a pleasant discovery. Thanks to phones with the ability to access both web pages and navigation systems, it is easy to look up attractions coming up along your travel route. This allows me to combine travel with another favorite of mine: ghost towns and abandoned houses. I actually located a ghost town along our route, North Milan, and we stopped by. Disappointingly, there’s relatively little to see- just a small small graveyard. I don’t think my husband was very impressed with his first ghost town, but we’ll keep trying. I’ve been interested in ghost towns for maybe a couple years now, but my fascination with abandoned houses is really a life-long obsession.

When I lived in Walla Walla, there was an old house on a lonely road surrounded with the most beautiful weeping willows. The inside of the house was pretty much ravaged and destroyed, but out back I find a small camper that was untouched. Inside were the various accouterments of camping life- including a toothbrush, comb, blankets. That was one of my first experiences with a truly abandoned house. The house is now completely gone and a brand new housing complex has gone up in its place.

While in Mexico on our honeymoon, my husband and I took a walk down Meroma beach and found an interesting abandoned house alongside the half-finished and elegant two-story open concrete structure with a purpose that we couldn’t quite determine (House, resort, theater?  From what we later saw people saying on forums, it was going to be a private home, but money ran out during construction. This is, however, only one of several stories going around).  We did take a few pictures, but this couple actually used the place as a stage for their wedding photography.

A few weeks ago while biking nearby our neighborhood, we passed an abandoned house almost invisible past the trees and overgrowth along the side of the road. We didn’t have lights to see inside (the windows were all boarded up), but we did poke around outside, where there was a full tennis court and a couple of outbuildings.

After discovering various websites dedicated to listing various ghost towns around the country, I began to wonder if there was such a following for abandoned houses as well. It’s easy to find a few abandoned houses nearby, but if there was some sort of list for places you might pass by while traveling, that would be even better!

Anyway, I have begun to search for such a thing- and yes it does exist!- and have so far found a really interesting site for abandoned houses in Ohio. I go to Ohio every once in awhile since one of my best friends lives there, so maybe I’ll be able to visit some of these places soon.  Not Mudhouse Mansion, though, as the current owner seems to be a little too likely to call the police on anyone who tries to explore her decrepit property….  Franklin Castle, considered the most haunted house in Ohio, seems a little more promising.  I’m disappointed by the author of the site’s inability to find the secret passageways when he explored the house, though.  I’d have to say that that would be the biggest pull for me.  I LOVE the idea of secret passageways, rooms, whatever! The sad thing that I keep coming across, however, is that many of these houses, even the ones that some people were just recently able to explore, have since been torn down or in some way been made inaccessible.

I will definitely search for abandoned houses in my area to explore, and I’ll keep you posted! In the meantime, enjoy the tales of this Ohio explorer as he tells stories of his exploits in some of the most famous (and haunted) houses in his state.

Miss Ami herself, all calmed down

As if I hadn’t learned my lesson the first time, I decided to try traveling with a cat again. And this time it was for 3 entire days. Well, it’s not as if I had much of a choice. I was moving from Washington state to Michigan and I could: A) leave my cat behind, B) try to transport her by plane, or C) bring her with me in the car. A was not considered, it was the wrong time of year for B (apparently they won’t take animals on planes if the temperature is below a certain point?), so it all came down to C…

I did my research beforehand. There are prescription sedatives, Benadryl, cages, carriers, nail caps, nail clippers, leash tricks, friendly pheromones… It seems everyone who has ever traveled with a cat has their own recipe for success. Having tried the cat carrier option before and been quite unsuccessful, I decided early on that I would not try to cage my feline, but would hold her in my lap. Previous trips to the vet across town using this method had been somewhat satisfactory, though Ami (that’s my cat’s name) usually ended up crying the whole time, hyperventilating, and trying to escape the car with that wild-eyed look that only a traumatized cat can give you. When I talked with my vet about the trip, she told me that usually cats will be quite upset for the first day of traveling but will then get used to it. I hoped this would be true in Ami’s case, but seriously doubted it. In order to help her relax, I decided to give Kitty a good dose of Benadryl before we started driving. This was to be a service to her. As a service to the furniture in our new home, I bought baby blue Soft Paws nail caps and applied them to her front claws (she hated this).

On the day of departure, when the car was packed and the boyfriend and I had naught but to wedge ourselves inside and force the doors shut behind us, I sought out my cat, Benadryl bottle in hand. While the boyfriend, and my roommates looked on, I situated Ami on my lap, poured some Benadryl into the little cup, and dumped it down her throat. At this point what had been a fairly objective and clinical procedure became a wild and gory free-for-all as all pandemonium broke loose! Fur and claws flew in a frenzy as Ami desperately attempted to escape what was no doubt the most cruel torture ever inflicted on any feline ever. I knew I must hold onto her lest I never ever see her again, and in doing so I suffered deep lacerations on my hands and wrists from her blunt back claws! By the time I was able to subdue her on the ground, my blood was mixing with Ami’s fur, she was foaming at the mouth, and spectators were looking on in horror!!! As you can imagine, it was a gruesome sight. I am ever so glad that I had read from the accounts of others that Benadryl will make cats foam at the mouth or I might have feared for her life. She really did look quite awful. Usually a cat to hold herself with pride, Ami looked quite beaten and dejected, a matted little mess on the grass. I instantly regretted putting her through such torture. The boyfriend kindly held onto her while I found bandages for my hands. A couple of the cuts were really deep and hurt like crazy.

Unfortunately, we were already late in leaving, so I only had time to bundle Ami up in an old towel, attempt to wipe the foam from her mouth and the blood from her fur and get into the car.

To be continued….

Note to self: do not ever put a can of V8 into a checked luggage bag again!

I should have known better, but when we got to the airport yesterday, I threw some unconsumed liquids into a checked bag so they’d make it through security. This included a can of V8 (I love V8!). This unfortunate can of V8 exploded in my suitcase in the air over Oklahoma or Missouri or Illinois and, when mixed with a similarly burst bag of cashews, made a disgusting mess all over my clothes and roller blades (yes, I had roller blades in my suitcase) and crocheting. So gross.

It seems that I will never be completely trained when it comes to modern air travel. I remember my first few flights after 9-11. I made all kinds of mistakes and am just happy that I manage to have a particularly non-terrorist look. On one flight airport security x-rays found two pairs of scissors and a razor blade in my carry-on…. oops. On another occasion I triumphantly attempted to carry a suitcase onto the plane which contained all of my carefully-wrapped Christmas gifts for my family. I was so proud of myself for having everything done ahead of time, just ready to slide under the Christmas tree. The looks security personnel gave me, however, when they saw a HAMMER in one of the packages was nothing like admiration, but rather dismay. How could this girl be so stupid?! Lucky for me, I was able to check my bag, and my dad still got his hammer. Some people aren’t so lucky, however. Yesterday in the airport the boyfriend and I were noticing the mailing service the airport provides where you can put your taboo items in a little bag and have them mailed to yourself. The prices caught our attention: $20 for a liquid bottle??? I guess this helps people to get their priorities straight, as most items aren’t worth that much in the first place. When the boyfriend mistakenly left his overnight bag in his carry-on and had to forfeit his toothpaste and shower gel, only a few tears were shed. What happens, though, when you make similar mistakes regarding more expensive or sentimental items? $20.

Don’t just assume, however, that you can forget what’s in your bag and then either surrender it or mail it to yourself when the x-ray spots it. Sometimes you can be prosecuted or prevented from flying even if the banned inclusion was an honest mistake. Furthermore, security personnel can decide at their discretion whether or not you may keep a taboo item to mail home or whether they must take it from you forever. It’s a good idea to stay updated regarding what is currently allowed and what is not.

Hey, does anyone have funny airport stories? Stupid things you mistakenly left in your carry-on? I’d love to hear them. A good compilation of stories like that would be extremely entertaining!

One last thing: You know those funny booties airports provide for you to wear on your feet when you have to take your shoes off? The ones that look kind of like shower caps? Well, I tried those for the first time yesterday and kind of fell in love temporarily- they were so comfortable! As a person who spent her entire childhood barefoot, I sometimes bemoan the constriction of shoes (while at the same time having an insatiable love for shoes, which is weird). The booties made me feel like I was going barefoot all through the airport, but without getting my feet dirty or stepping on icky feeling dirt and crumbs. So I kept wearing them. I wore them…. probably longer than anyone who is normal would dare (people gave me funny looks)… but it felt so nice that I didn’t care!

While on the topic of acting a little insane in airports, let me share my favorite bit of airport weirdness, courtesy of Nalts:

Lester, WA

Lester, Washington was born and prospered at the hand of the Northern Pacific Railroad which began traveling over Stampede Pass in the 1880′s-1890′s. The town was named after the first telegrapher at the station. In the 1950′s when railroad activity began to decline, Lester’s population also embarked on a downward spiral. Finally, in the 1980′s, all railroad activity across Stampede Pass ceased. That along with legislation by the City of Tacoma (the town was located in Tacoma’s watershed) forced the eventual death of Lester.  The road was closed, the residents were asked to leave, and Lester, WA became a ghost town

Gertrude Murphy, last living resident of Lester, WA

There was one woman, however, who refused to sell her land to the watershed. Gertrude Murphy, a former school teacher of Lester, lived out the hundred year lease on her house, unwilling to leave her home. Gertrude fought in vain to save some of Lester’s buildings as historical relics and, when her own house burned down, relocated to a cabin outside the center of Lester, spending summers there until her health prevented it. She died on October 2, 2002 at the age of 99. She was the last living resident of Lester, and was celebrated as such, receiving former students, reporters, and welcoming visitors who came to see Lester. Some feel that the last remaining bit of Lester died with Gertrude, but the children and grandchildren of its late residents still remember the stories of a school, library, train depot, tavern, ranger station, and houses that were at one time occupied by over 1,000 residents! Indeed, many people remember their grandfathers working for the railroad to Lester, their grandmothers living in cabins among the trees, their parents attending dances on Saturday nights, and the town lives on on their memories.

In recent years, rails through Lester are being used again by the Burlington Northern.  Tacoma watershed authorities have reluctantly agreed to allow foot traffic into Lester, and the children and grandchildren of former residents can hike into this memory-filled ghost town to remember the people whose lives began and ended there.  I, too, was interested in this mysterious little spot in the forest along the Upper Green River.  My first and second attempts to visit it were ill-timed and wholly unsuccessful, but I persevered. Lester, WA was my ghost town obsession.

The lonely clearing

In August of 2009, I was at a turning point in my existence, about to make a decision that would change the trajectory of my life forever, and I needed time alone to think, to just be.  A pause before a leap.  I knew that the solitude of Lester would be the perfect place for such a thing, and the way it called to me with a voice of adventure made it impossible to resist.  I jumped into my less-than-trustworthy car on a Saturday night and drove the 4 hours to Lester, arriving after dark.  I turned left at the fork in the forest service road before reaching the Lester gate and then turned left again and bumped down a barely used set of tracks between trees into the forest, inadvertently subjecting my car to a couple of large rocks hidden between the ruts by long grass.  I drove until I reached a dead end at a small stream.  I crossed the stream and pitched my small, borrowed tent in a clearing that almost appeared to be meant for such a thing.  I cooked dinner in my lonely campsite using the crudest of utensils and crawled into my sleeping bag.  It was my first time camping alone (and in a ghost town, no less) and I felt small in the empty forest.  At least I hoped it was empty.  I drifted off into an uneasy sleep before hearing a sound, a loud disturbing sound that grew louder and louder every second and shook the ground underneath my prone body until I felt  that I must ask myself a question that I SHOULD already know the answer to: DID I pitch my tent on the railroad tracks?!?

Build small fire, sit close.

The stream I camped by

I guess this USED to be a road....

I don’t know how late I slept in the morning, but after my frightening experience with the too-close-for-comfort trains during the night, I felt I might have needed the extra rest…  Reloading my car and retracing (more carefully this time) my tracks from the previous night, I made my way to the Lester gate, feeling incredibly satisfied that at last I was going to give Lester my undivided attention and the time I knew it deserved.  Armed with my camera and a backpack of snacks and water, I slipped through the gate and hiked down the dusty dirt road…

This road must have once led to this.... remnants of civilization right here at my campsite.

The first two times I made it to the Lester gate, there was a trailer parked here on the right-hand side.

You're on foot from here

Lester is at the end of this road.

car I found alongside the road

stove inside the white house

I think that drying rack used to be green...

Notice the soap and towel dispensers. I thought that odd for a house.

back porch of the house by the tracks

I spent the rest of the day exploring every nook and cranny of Lester- imagining what the town must have once looked like, searching for clues as to what the residents may have left behind.  The only remaining buildings (besides the new warehouse, which I didn’t try to enter) are a couple houses close to the south side of the tracks, the nearly tumbled outbuildings of those houses, and a house, trailer, and shed which are obviously more recently occupied though now given over to mice and decay.  I spent hours tromping through the woods searching for anything the might be missed from the road, but all I really found were a few masses of twisted metal.  The ground in the trees undulates in a curiously rippled sort of way and I believe it is due to the way the town was bulldozed to the ground.  I wonder what one would find if they dug down.  I did find an interesting old car along the road on the way to Lester in a spot that appeared to be an old dump of sorts.

Upstairs in one of the houses- notice all the mouse droppings. The smell of mouse urine up here was overpowering! Gross!

view of yellow house from back porch of white house

cheerful red

posted inside barn

Most of the barn is gone.

Some of it is still standing...

...but not for long!!! :O

shed

cabin

trailer

remnants

foot traffic is forbidden from this point

It used to be a slide. Was there a playground here once?

I think we all know what this was.

tart but delicious

Maytag?

my edible souvenir

When my curiosity was finally sated, my skin sun burnt, and my clothing filthy, I walked back the way I came, triumphantly bearing a few stalks of persistent rhubarb harvested from a long-abandoned garden (I cooked and ate them with strawberries and they were delicious!)

I hope you enjoy this sampling of the pictures I took.  I feel that Lester is definitely worth the trip.  I found the area beautiful, peaceful, and a wonderful place for the imagination. Oh, and I returned home relaxed, renewed, and ready to make my decision. Thank you, Lester!

© Travelnole and Travelchick-girl unstoppable, 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Travelnole and Travelchick-girl unstoppable with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Yesterday was The Boyfriend’s birthday. I’m a traditional, occasion-observing sort of girl, so I wanted to give him something. Easier said than done for a guy who readily admits he already has everything he wants and wears a large corresponding smile at all times. Nevertheless, I had a few ideas and set about making them happen. Being the penniless, jobless loser that I am, I thought it would be perhaps a bit more economical to give a gift of homemade food (and, let’s face it, even the man who has everything still needs to eat). Granola (which he’s obsessed with) and carob cake (he loves carob so much it’s almost disturbing) were on the menu. And here’s where the link to travel comes in (you were wondering, weren’t you?): when you uproot yourself and move across country, sometimes you really miss the places you used to buy food!

Back in Walla Walla, Washington, we had a store called Andy’s Market. If I could be back there at this very moment, I’d kneel down and kiss the ground it stands on. Andy’s Market had all the fresh local produce, all the inexpensive bulk everything, all the vege and vegan alternatives that I could ever ask for. It’s not a chain and it’s not to be surpassed, apparently. I needed all these nuts and dried fruit and carob and I had no idea where to get them! Everyone here shops for food at Meijer, which is the Michigan version of Wal-Mart (not considered “The Devil” because it’s not nationwide?….). Besides that, there are a few other familiar and not-familiar stores. I finally found carob at both Hillers Market and Whole Foods Market. Whole Foods also has a very small bulk section where I was thankfully able to find the nuts I needed. They also had a bit of cheaper price on the carob goods. That, coupled with the fact that they carry Vegenaise and liquid aminos, means that I’ll cross Hillers off the list and rely on Whole Foods as my substitute (albeit a poor one) for Andy’s. Whole Foods in no way measures up to the variety or price of the bulk foods section in Andy’s Market. Sigh.

All in all, I’m not sure that making homemade granola and carob cake are the most economical ways to go, but they are definitely the most fun! I found the cake recipe in the April 2010 issue of Better Homes and Gardens. Dorothy Olsen of Provo, Utah won the $25,000 grand prize for her Whole Wheat Chocolate-Blueberry Cake. Being all at the same time a fan of chocolate, dessert, and healthy eating (hypocritical maybe?), I had to try it out. The only change I made was to substitute unsweetened carob powder for unsweetened cocoa powder and vegan carob pieces for semisweet chocolate pieces.

This cake is rich and decadent.  The Boyfriend and I love the way the whole wheat flour tastes in it!  Very wholesome.

Whole Wheat Chocolate-Blueberry Cake

• 1 cup whole wheat flour
• 1 cup sugar
• 6 Tbsp. unsweetened cocoa powder (or carob powder)
• 3/4 tsp. baking powder
• 1/2 tsp. baking soda
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 3/4 cup water
• 1/2 cup fresh blueberries
• 1 egg
• 1 cup frozen light whipped dessert topping, thawed
• 1/2 cup semisweet chocolate pieces (or carob pieces)
• fresh blueberries or Blueberry Sauce (see recipe below)

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.  In medium bowl combine flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.  In blender combine water, blueberries, and the egg.  Cover and blend until smooth.  Add to flour mixture.  Whisk until well combine.  Pour into greased 8x8x2-inch baking pan.
2. Bake 30 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.  Cool completely on wire rack.  Invert onto serving platter.
3. In small microwave-safe bowl combine dessert topping and chocolate pieces.  Micro-cook, covered, on 50% power (medium) 1 minute.  Stir until smooth.  Let stand 5 minutes.  Pour onto cooled cake, spreading evenly.
4. Cut cake into squares to serve.  Top with fresh blueberries.  Serve with Blueberry Sauce.  Makes 9 servings.

Blueberry Sauce: In blender combine 1/2 cup frozen light whipped dessert topping, thawed, and 1/2 cup fresh blueberries.  Cover and blend until smooth.

I found the granola recipe, Easy Homemade Granola, on this website.  I slightly modified it by also adding 1/3 cup walnuts (LOVE walnuts!) and cutting the brown sugar to 1/8 cup.  The granola turned out REALLY SALTY! so I’d recommend cutting down on the salt as well.  Maybe 1/2 tsp. in instead of 1?  Otherwise, it was delicious.  The Boyfriend adds some plains oats to his granola anyway, so that probably helps with the salt factor.

Easy Homemade Granola  (from “Baked: New Frontiers in Baking” by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito)

• 2 cups rolled oats
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 3 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon vegetable oil
• 1/4 cup honey
• 1/4 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/3 cup whole almonds
• 1/3 cup whole hazelnuts
• 1/3 cup golden raisins
• 1/3 cup dried cherries

1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment or wax paper.
2. In a large bowl, toss the oats with the cinnamon and salt.
3. In a medium bowl, stir together the oil, honey, brown sugar, and vanilla. Whisk until completely combined.
4. Pour the honey mixture over the oats mixture and use your hands to combine them: Gather up some of the mixture in each hand and make a fist. Repeat until all of the oats are coated with the honey mixture.
5. Pour the mixture onto the prepared baking sheet. Spread it out evenly, but leave a few clumps here and there for texture.
6. Bake for 10 min, then remove from the oven and use a metal spatula to lift and flip the granola. Sprinkle the almonds over the granola and return the baking sheet to the oven.
7. Bake for 5 min, then remove from the oven and use a metal spatula to lift and flip the granola. Sprinkle the hazelnuts over the granola and return the baking sheet to the oven.
8. Bake for 10 min, then remove from the oven. Let cool completely. Sprinkle the raisins and cherries over the granola.
9. Transfer it to an airtight container, where it will keep for one week.

I noticed on the Andy’s Market website that you can order things online…. Hmmmm…. I may try that.  Until then, I’ll be crying on the inside every time I walk out of Whole Foods.

© Travelnole and Travelchick-girl unstoppable, 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Travelnole and Travelchick-girl unstoppable with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

It’s my last day to pack, and when I say “pack” I mean go through my stuff to see exactly what I will and will not be taking. I feel a sort of calm today. What’s going to happen will happen, what’s going to fit will fit. I’ve resorted to giving away for free the stuff that I had been trying to sell. I just gave away my vacuum cleaner, a shovel, a couple sets of curtains, and a fountain that I’ve always loved. Painful. Anyway, not all of the partings are so sorrowful. Those socks with the hole in them, for example, or a couple of the million pillowcases that I had.

I feel exhausted, and this road trip hasn’t even begun. The Boyfriend is arriving tonight though, and I think I’ll feel better once he’s here. Then I won’t be alone in the painful process of trying to fit my life in the trunk and backseat of an average-sized car. Speaking of the car, doesn’t it just make sense that it rains the day after I wash it?

A man wants my very small ladies wetsuit. I’m a little worried about that, but I’m not going to ask questions. I won’t ask to watch him try to fit into it either, but that would be hilarious. If there was a guy who was small enough to fit into a wetsuit that I couldn’t fit into, he should win some kind of prize.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, without further ado I present: The Route. We are planning to leave Walla Walla and drive east…..

Oh man, I left this blog, forgetting I hadn’t finished it, and now I’m too exhausted to do so. The short story is that we’re driving through Montana, swooping down to Nebraska, and then zooming on up to Michigan.

Zzzzzzz……

WELL, everyone! After countless months, weeks, and endless excruciating days, I have finally finished a task that at one point literally felt insurmountable. I have defended my thesis, merited my committee’s approval, and after minor revisions will have my thesis paper ready to print. AAAAAAH! The relief is palpable, the peace is thick. My blog has been silent for the past few days (weeks? I have no idea how long I’ve been holed up) because I have lived and breathed my thesis! But now, it is DONE!!! I won’t try to describe my jubilee because the description would never be adequate. Suffice it to say that I feel I am a beginning a new life with the burden of a huge unfinished project behind me FINALLY!

On to the next thing. And that is moving. In six days. Aaaaaaaaaah! Ok, not really. There is no panic here. Not tonight, anyway, because I’ve been carefully preparing for this for awhile. I have a lot to do this week, but the tasks are, for the most part, relished. They mostly include preparing the car, whittling down my belongings one final time, eating up my food, bidding farewell to friends, stuff like that. My boyfriend arrives late Friday, we pack the car Saturday night, and we head out early early Sunday morning. I can’t wait to chronicle our mega road trip: 3 days, 2200 miles, 1 cat, 1 bird….. Oh, and all my earthly possessions.

6 days….

all the things piled up ready for the sale

So I had a moving sale. I planned it very carefully, too, as I knew it was my big opportunity to not only reduce my belongings but to make a little cash in the process (I really needed to see money in my hand before I forgot what it looked like). I advertised well, even paying to put an ad in the newspaper, went through all my stuff ahead of time, made a giant pile in the living room of boxes labeled “sell” and “free”. I cleaned up the bigger items, made some beautiful signs, bought hot chocolate to serve, and set up all the tables the night before. I’d been scared to death that it might rain that day, but my heart rate returned to normal as the weather forecast retracted its threats just hours before the big day. Everything was perfect and it was going to be the best sale ever. I was excited. I was even proud of myself. The frenzy was set to start at seven, and before I went to bed late Saturday night I set my alarm for five to give myself plenty of time to have everything set up before the customers began to arrive…..

a couple of the makeshift tables I constructed

Bzzz….Bzzzz- WHA?! I jerked awake at a buzzing sound from my phone on the desk. My eyes swiveled to take in the gleaming red numbers on my clock and as they did, my mouth let out a screech- Aaaaaah! OH NO!!!! It was 7:40!!! I was a full FORTY MINUTES late, not from getting up to set up my sale but from being at the START of my sale!! I. Was. Mortified. Jumping out of bed and throwing on clothes faster than I ever have in my life, I ran outside with a box of merchandise and started throwing stuff on the tables. During most of the worst tragedies of my life I’ve been able to imagine how funny the situation really is or at least what a wonderful story it will make, but this is one situation in which i honestly had a VERY difficult time finding the bright spot. I felt so irresponsible and ridiculous.

I traded my friend that plant for a really cool lamp!

Not a soul was lurking around the vicinity of the yard and for a moment I thought that perhaps every yard-saler had lost faith in me and it was all a total flub. Perhaps the yard-sale community had already put me on their black list for what must have seemed like the cruelest moving sale joke in history. I winced as I tapped on the door of my roommate, whom I knew had only had a few hours of sleep, begging her to come help me. I needed someone to (wo)man my sale while I tried to haul my junk out the door. Thankfully, I have some of the best friends/roommates in the world and she willingly pulled herself from a deep sleep to go stand in the bitter cold guessing at what my prices might be for various items.

things! people!

Long story short, because my roommate handled the customers (which DID come, by the way, and fast), within about an hour I had everything out and set up in a rather chaotic fashion and felt ready to begin. I had also sold about half of my larger items by then. I realized pretty quickly that there were still plenty of customers whom I hadn’t offended and that people really just wanted to buy stuff before I’d had a chance to take it out of the box or think of a price. One woman arrived about 2 minutes after I woke up and immediately bought my couch and 2 table-lamp deals. I realized that I really didn’t even need my street signs in order for people to find me. The only real embarrassment occurred during that painful window of time when I had large numbers of customers but only about 5 items for sale…..

My landlords joined my sale, adding a few of their items. Apparently, as they recounted to me later, there had been a HUGE crowd of people outside my house at 7am. They even knocked on my door and everything but…. we were SLEEPING!

The sale turned out to be so much fun, I sold most of my big items, gave the rest of the little stuff away, and felt happy but tired at the end of the day. One of my favorite parts was trading with my friend who brought a few things to my sale: she got a giant plant and I got a lamp that I love. My neighbors really pitched in and helped after it was all over with hauling away leftover things and cleaning up, and it really gave me a good feeling, like I had precipitated and participated in a community effort.

Get rid of all my crap…. CHECK! That’s one job down!