Sir Matt

There are days when I feel like my husband should be knighted for his awesomeness. Or maybe proclaimed to be a saint. Because most of the time he just can’t help doing the right thing without a single moment of hesitation. Saturday August 18 was one of those times.

Normally this knee-jerk reaction to him needing high fives for being a good-person-overachiever has to do more with the fact that he’s somehow managed to put up with my ass for the past thirteen or so years. But on Saturday Matt just jumped into action like there wasn’t a question about it.

Late afternoon on Friday my Mom came up and planned to spend the weekend. We hung around for a couple hours and chatted before Matt got home. While we were hanging out the movie “It Could Happen to You” came on and we ended up watching the whole thing sitting there in our bathing suits. We were getting in the pool but that movie is so dang cute neither of us wanted to stop watching.

So what does any of that have to do with Matt’s newly bestowed title? Well Nicholas Cage plays the leading man, Charlie Lang, a cop in NYC who never fails to do the right thing when it comes to being a decent human being. His wife in the flick (Rosie Perez) can’t understand how he could have promised half of their lottery winnings to some random waitress (Bridget Fonda). But Charlie doesn’t back down on his promise. He never stops being a kind, generous and wonderful person despite all the crap that gets thrown at him.

The movie came out in 1994. I promised myself after watching it that I would find a guy just like Charlie as the leading man in my own life. Maybe he screws up occasionally, maybe he isn’t perfect, but somewhere deep down in the depths of his soul he’s just a decent and kind human being.

Well by some miracle of fate, I happened to find the real life Charlie and even more odd, they’re both from New York!

On Saturday morning we all discussed taking a road trip to somewhere none of us had ever been before. With Sunset Crater chosen as our destination, we hit the open road and headed north toward Flagstaff. The place was pretty cool, lots and lots of lava flow rocks from the volcano that erupted only about 1000 years ago. But the place we really wanted to see was up the road – an 800 year old pueblo that was mostly still standing. Um, cool!

We made it there about an hour before sunset and headed up the short path to this former house on top of a rock. There were two other groups there at the same time as us (which was weird because it was in the middle of nowhere. On our way up the path the couple with the fancy-pants camera set-up made their way back to the parking lot with a scowl. I wanted to say ‘gee, sorry to interrupt your photo op in this public state park’ but kept my mouth shut. The other group was a mom and what looked to be her two teenage children.

Mom, Matt and I explored the various rooms and the last three people eventually left. We had the place to ourselves so we acted a little dorky and took a whole bunch of pictures. Like this one taken earlier:

We headed back out to see that we weren’t alone in the parking lot. The minivan with the small family was still sitting there. Which I thought was strange because they’d taken off at least fifteen minutes before we made our way back to our car. The daughter was walking towards us. All of a sudden I hear “Excuse me, can you help us with a tire? We have a flat.”

Oh no.

Here’s what it looks like out there:

Um…

Luckily they had a jack and a spare. But this was a minivan, not a car with a trunk or a Jeep with a tire mounted to the back. Take a wild guess where the tire was located? Give up? Yeah, it’s under the vehicle. You have to use this weird contraption that forms the shape of a T and release some cable – done from the inside the vehicle - in order to drop the thing down so you can access the donut.

Now my phone chose this exact moment to die so the most important pictures weren’t even captured. Stupid roaming killing my battery too quickly!

But here’s a free piece of advice for everyone out there – NEVER approach a writer who is currently working on a suspense novel when she and her family are in the middle of nothingness, without another soul around, the Ranger’s station approximately two miles away, and a situation that is way too obvious as a trap because she won’t actually believe all you need is help changing a tire until you’ve already driven away with a donut attached to your car.

Here’s how the situation went in my head – the teenage boy takes the contraption shaped like a T, knocks Matt over the head with it and then kidnaps Mum & me to sell us into some kind of underground slavery ring while Matt lies bleeding out at the end of a dead end street in the middle of the desert.

Yeah, I really gotta find a way to separate fantasy from reality.

Because the actual scene looked a lot more like this:

Yeah, yeah. Perhaps I’m just slightly biased as to the inherent sexiness of my husband in a crisis situation but I think all five of us who were standing there watching him jack up that minivan to replace the tire would agree that he’s pretty kick-ass.

And nary a tire iron swung at anyone’s head during the entire experience. Imagine that!

They thanked us profusely and said “can we give you anything for your trouble?” Now don’t get me wrong, I certainly wouldn’t accept a dime from someone in this situation, we were all just lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, but I thought it was kind of them to offer anyway.

Matt said “all you can give me is the knowledge that you get home safely tonight.” Seriously, who’s in charge of the sword on the shoulder thing? I’ve got your candidate right here.

It’s All Fun and Games Until Someone Capsizes

Now anyone who knows me knows I’m more of the hotel type of girl.  I mean, its not that I don’t love a good campfire, some toasted wieners and s’mores, or seeing a billion stars at night, but that is all followed up by sleeping in a tent in the middle of the nothingness with no toilet, no shower and no mattress when you’re camping. 

Not to mention, I thought bears were scary?  Out here they have snakes and scorpions.  And you may wave me off but we saw and heard both of those creatures in the course of the weekend. 

We got in by way of the “Road of Insanity”, as I pegged it before even driving it but after riding on it, aptly so.  There was a sheer cliff on one side and it was a single lane with turns so tight it looked like we were going to careen off the side of the mountain.  Oh yeah and it’s a two lane road.  Thankfully we didn’t have to back up to let trucks hauling boats pass us because we would have been screwed.

Everyone else had pretty much shown up Thursday night so most set up was done already.  All that was left to do was crack a beer, look around, hug my sister who I hadn’t seen in what felt like eons and blow up our air mattress.

So here’s another side note…when you go to Target to get a camping lantern and turn around to see the rechargeable air mattress pump with the nozzle you think will work in your air mattress, the one you’re taking with you to the middle of nowhere with no electricity, don’t walk by it saying ‘oh but Wendy said someone will have a pump.’

Buy the damn thing because if you don’t you’ll be left stealing electricity from the Coke machine plug at midnight then walking back through the unfamiliar landscape carrying an inflated air mattress after the camera just got your face recorded for all of posterity.

But they didn’t come and kick us out so we were safe.  And we weren’t the only members of the group who had to use it so at least that was slightly comforting.  That night I peed in the desert because the walk to the crusty bathrooms was too far and I couldn’t find it anyway.  I tried to sleep but everyone was up until all hours chatting and laughing and the temperature in Wendy’s tent was so hot I tossed more than snored.

Woke up about 6:30 in the morning and got coffee.  Matt and I picked up a Box o’ Joe from Dunkin Donuts (one of 2 we’ve already discovered out here hooray!).  I actually texted my aunt during that experience because we went in to buy it and that thing holds about 3 pots of coffee.  The girl poured a half a pot in and said ‘I’m gonna have to brew more.’

You know you’ve left Boston when Dunkin donuts actually runs out of coffee!  It took all my physical body not to drop my jaw in amazement at the statement.

Saturday afternoon all but 3 of us went out on the boat, I was starting to feel like the lack of shade might be a problem even with the 70spf sunscreen.  And it was a good thing we all hung back.  A couple 12 year old girls in a foot paddle boat went right over in front of our little patch of beach.  The friend of ours who was there had not even gotten the words ‘should we throw them a line’ out of his mouth before we saw the thing start to flip over. 

They were okay and everyone got back to shore but before they put the boat back in we all noticed it was kind of missing the plug for the front.  After dumping the overflowing hull we watched & shook our heads as they paddled back out, right into oncoming waves.  There’s something to be said for logic.  Sadly they didn’t really seem to have any but once they turned the corner of the jetty back toward their own campsite that was pretty much no longer our problem.

By the end of the day on Saturday the heat, sun and beers got the best of me and while literally everyone else (about 10 of our group) tried the high pressure sales pitch to go back out on the boat, I pled peer pressure and plunked my butt down in a seat unmoving.  I was happy to be alone for as long as they were gone, I was cranky and whiny and no one needed me bringing down their good time.  The breeze picked up a little and I was able to nap.  Everyone got back and we cooked dinner on the portable propane grill then we all sat around in the dark yakking for the second night in a row -- absolutely no campfires were allowed because it had been so dry.

We watched as a pretty lightning intense thunderstorm rolled through and the rain actually cooled it off significantly.  I still felt crappy so with a nice stiff breeze and lightning in the distance I dragged my Debbie Downer ass to bed at like 11:00.  Matt followed shortly after and I woke up the next morning totally refreshed.  We had breakfast hot dogs and noted that almost all food and beer was consumed.  A successful weekend was had by all!

With one last boat trip planned I got myself into a seat and enjoyed the breeze, the water and the insanely cool scenery, which pictures and words just couldn’t begin to describe.  Everyone swam but me.  I like to ease in and diving off the side of the boat was not in my future (like I said, indoor girl).  We headed back and finished packing up the campsite (This is where I got photos of the baby scorpion hiding out on the side of Wendy’s tent bag.  Yikes.).

As we went to go we started the caravan out the back way which I dubbed “Road of Moderate Insanity” since it wasn’t much better than the way in but admittedly a bit wider most of the way down.  Wendy and friends were in 2 off-road appropriate vehicles which got them down the mountain pretty quick.  We lost sight of them and as we were on our own ambled slowly to the bottom.  Chalk up another reason to get a truck!

But as we got to the huge “Man” Damn at the end of Roosevelt Lake we saw that our super cool friends had pulled off to wait and make sure we made it down safely.  Yea for super cool friends! 

Going that way took some extra time getting home but it was just the final extension of the end of a three week road trip for Matt and I and we couldn’t have been happier to get the chance to see all kinds of new scenery from the car.  With the little red ant population traveling back with us in the trunk, and potential for scorpion sightings, we dropped our stuff on the balcony and started up the washing machine right away.

As we put away the leftover food and plunked down on the sofa with a smile on our faces from such a fun weekend full of laughs and good times, finally ready to actually start settling into our new home, I thought ‘I think I’m gonna like it here…’

If those from Boston are Townies Those from Phoenix must be…

Sunbaked.  That’s my thoughts on the front office management type people anyway.  Hey man I get it, one of the reasons I moved here was to kick back & chill a little bit.  But then I didn’t make a whole bunch of promises and then not live up to them.  Suffice to say it took us 3 days, including our first day here, and multiple reminders from both of us to get a new lock put on our front door.

And you know what?  STILL only one of the 2 keys he handed us works.

But whatever, at least one does and we’re pretty much together all the time right now anyway.  There are 3 Home Depots in a 10 mile radius, I’ll go cut a new key later.

So instead of freaking out about the key thing we decided to freak out about the moving truck.  But that was only after we realized that even central air will just not cut it when you’ve got a 40 yard walk from the back of the truck, over hot sand/rocks and up 16 steps to your back door with all your worldly possessions having to come in that way.

Our first order of business was to drop off the trailer so I waited and typed up most of the proceeding story while Matt was gone doing that.  You know, because someone had to be here to guard all our crap since we couldn’t lock the door.  He got back & at about 9:30 we headed out to unpack.

We had both turned the color of a beet, drank about 12 gallons of water each and proceeded to overheat by oh about 11:30.  And that was after multiple breaks.  We called it for the afternoon, decided to start unpacking some stuff and also decided we should set up the sofa and the other bed just in case we couldn’t get to Ikea until the following day for our king bed.

Times & dates are a bit fuzzy now but I’m pretty sure the Dish Network guy showed up a half hour early and got out before Matt went to return the trailer and Matt got in touch with the cable company to find that they had shown up a day early to install our internet connection.  They rescheduled for Sunday.

We headed back out to the truck about 8:00 that night after the sun went down and managed to unload a bit more.  Beat and crispy we fell into our bed (a real one at least) at about 11:00.  We decided shifts of 6:00 - 10:30 AM then 7:30 - 11:00 PM would likely get the truck empty by the evening of the 4^th.  With the truck due back on the 5^th we kind of didn’t really have a choice anyway.

The next day we did our morning shift then headed out to Ikea, set to be back before the internet install, and acquired our splurge purchase, something we’d been saving up for since deciding to move -- the king sized bed.

If you know Ikea then you know everything is flat packed in boxes ready to be assembled at home.  Well one of the boxes for the bed weighed 163 pounds.  It said so right on the box.  Picture that, in heat, up those stairs between the two of us already run ragged.  I laughed at the thought & Matt determined he’d open the box and bring it up piecemeal.

But that was before whisperings of dust storms, monsoons, haboobs.  We flick over to the local weather channel and see the enormous cloud coming right for us and both get that shot of ‘like HELL I’m sleeping in a double when we have a king in the truck!’ adrenaline and by some miracle become super heroes to carry all parts of the bed up the stairs.  Then we get to the mattress and feel the 40mph gusts, find out they could be up to 70 and decide we don’t want to sail away.

Defeated for the evening we close up the truck with our new mattress inside and Matt starts putting the frame together while I start unpacking.

Now let me tell you a little bit about this dust storm they call a haboob.  First of all, the name makes me giggle.  Secondly, the weatherman on TV was calling it epic.  Finally, apparently after all was said and done the thing was a mile high and even native Phoenicians were having a hard time recalling ever having seen something so massive.  And we were here to witness it.  Of course we were.  I keep warning everyone here to expect the 1000 year snow storm this winter.  You’re welcome Phoenix.

It came right over our complex.  We were sitting with bated breath.  We watched the lightning in the distance and I even snapped pictures of the cloud.  Then it got here and we were like ‘that’s it?’.  We never even had a flicker on our satellite dish, never lost power and the thing just looked like a thick fog outside.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t have wanted to be walking or driving in the thing and I actually could taste the dust that crept in through teeny crevices, but overall it was nothing compared to a nor’easter that dumps 24” of snow in mere hours.  At least the dust goes away after 20 minutes and other than a car wash you don’t have to really do anything about it.

The next day we finished all the truck unloading, we dropped the thing on the 5^th right on the dot of on time and proceeded to begin unpacking.

Then we pulled out the luggage and packed up again because on Friday night we were heading up to Apache Lake to go camping with my sister and a whole bunch of her friends.

And On the Fifth Day God Created Mountains

Really, really, REALLY tall mountains. The kind of mountains that have scenic vistas placed at the top of them so people in cars can pull off and enjoy the view. The kind of mountains that a 16’ box truck towing a trailer with a car on top of it tends to find just a teensy bit challenging.

We came down out of Albuquerque and essentially hit the valley floor until we reached a spot just outside of Flagstaff in Arizona.

(As a side note, we did make it to the welcome center but I was suffering from some serious elevation shifts and felt pretty crappy for many miles past that. Plus the most exciting thing we saw was the sign warning us that poisonous creatures were afoot, like scorpions and rattle snakes.)

I started looking at the clock because it was approaching 2:00 and I was pretty sure the front office of our new complex closed at 5:00. We were supposed to be there to sign the lease, get keys, etc and I did not want to miss it because like hell I was staying in another hotel that night! It seemed like a good idea to call and just let them know we were running a little behind schedule. The person I spoke with said not to worry at all because they didn’t even close until 6:00 and we’d have no trouble making it on time.

That was comforting to hear and I suddenly wished we had stopped on that corner in Winslow, Arizona. We watched the pine trees whizz by the truck and as we came down the mountain out of Flagstaff, I pointed at I-17 north and said “How glad are we that we aren’t on that side huh?”

Of course as everyone knows, it’s as soon as you say it out loud that you jinx yourself. We get to the bottom and suddenly spot where our road goes. Right up and over the next mountain range. And that thing ain’t short by any means. We look at each other and take a deep breath as Matt gets into the ‘slower vehicles move right’ lane. We started out okay, going about 55 or so but with every half mile we lost about 5 mph.

I finally suggested he flick on his hazards when an 85 year old on a Vespa scooter passed us like we were standing still.

It was about 99 degrees but we had to turn off the AC and open the windows just for the extra power. The truck finally capped off at about 25mph and that was only because Matt would “gun” it here and there to at least get us a teeny bit further.

All the while he kept a firm eye on that slowly climbing temperature gauge and mumbled repeatedly something about the benefits of having a diesel engine as opposed to the bleeping bleep bleep gas engine this stupid bleeping truck had. Or something close to that anyway. He might have used a few more bleeps than that come to think of it.

After what felt like an hour…oh wait, it actually was about an hour…it looked as if we were going to turn the corner and finally start heading back downhill again. We held our breath, this time for real, because we both knew that if we saw another ridge to climb around that turn we were going to have to abandon the truck on the side of the road and hitchhike all the way to Phoenix.  And we weren't both going to fit on a scooter.

With the turbo power of the 20mph engine speed, heading up to about 26 when Matt jammed the gas, I was totally pinned to the back of the seat when we rounded that corner. Oh yeah, that thing had some real super power baby!

We both exhaled the words ‘Oh thank God!’ as soon as we rounded to see the slope start to point downward. The super bad ass truck regained her appropriate temperature in record time and so did we. The temperature outside seemed to be climbing much quicker than we anticipated and on went the AC. For the next bunch of miles I just kept my eye on the time because that mountain had eaten up quite a bit of ours and we were later than I hoped to get into town.

I had my camera in hand, ready to take pictures of the ‘Phoenix City Limits’ sign and as soon as we came around a bend at the Black Canyon exit I saw my first signs of civilization and immediately started cheering yea! I decided to see what was on the radio; maybe I’d locate a good station or two before we even got into town.

That’s when I discovered 93.3 KDKB. And it suddenly hit me, we had left the land of W’s and entered the land of K’s. The station was kind of the Boston version of Mike FM, but with rock & classic rock, because we heard some stuff that even I had never heard before (and AAF used to play some seriously off the wall tunes!). Within a half hour they played the Foo Fighters. I knew all would be well in my world. Of course it was their first single (‘Rope’) off the new album, not the new release (‘Walk’) but hey, at least if was from the new album.

Plus the station was just distracting enough that I didn’t notice we pulled up in front of the new apartment complex at 5:30. We drove a block or two down and parked in the Safeway lot then in 110 degree weather, walked back to the leasing office.

Welcome to Phoenix!

Now I don’t want to say mean stuff about anyone directly but as far as ease of move in goes this has probably been one of the worst experiences I’ve ever had. Totally not at all what was expected considering the level of service back & forth in email before we even left Massachusetts.

But we got here and the agent handling our file was off that day. Her fill in person was pretend friendly (which makes me want to shake a person, I’d rather you were just a straight up biotch so I wouldn’t feel the fakeness oozing out of you). It took over an hour to get us our keys because they “couldn’t find them”. Then we were handed a key to the model apartment for the night because our carpets hadn’t been shampooed yet. Then we were told they had been but they could still be a little wet or look strange because its Berber which takes a long time to bounce back (read: we were forced to sit & wait "for keys" while they raced over to the apartment to quick shampoo because they totally forgot).

Finally after about an hour and a half we were thanking everyone and leaving when we suddenly asked each other if either of us had gotten the gate pass card. Nope.

Knock, knock, knock.
Knock, knock, knock.
Knock, knock, knock.

Finally someone was leaving for the night and opened the door. Yeah we never got the pass card for the gate and considering it’s almost 7:30 now I think we’ll need that by the time we get back here with the truck. Oh, haha, how silly of us! Sure come on in.

Five minutes later we have all correct stuff, get back to the truck about 10 minutes after that, get through the gate, park the truck, drop the car and head over to our apartment with the air mattress, food & luggage in the backseat. We were so ready to just crash so we could get up the next morning to get on with the unpacking cavalcade.

We approach our front door to discover the front light is burned out. Mental note is taken to alert the management of that safety issue and with arms full of stuff we test the knob to find the apartment is unlocked. We unload the entire car, trunk and all, and are thankful that we’d disassembled the plastic shelves then tossed them in the trunk because on the wet carpet they were the perfect base for the computer and stuff.

By then it was after 8:00 and we were tired and starving. There was a quickie fast food place in our future so we went to lock up the front door.

Neither key fits. Not that they were just tight or anything. They don’t even go into the lock. Now I’m effing furious because I just spent 5 days on the road to move to this city and after having to wait for an hour for those keys (read: shampooing the carpet) you’d think someone might have tested them before handing them off and closing the front office until 10:00 the next morning.

We load everything back into the car, ready to go to a hotel and I suddenly realize the door does lock from the inside. We take our stuff, hit Jack in the Box and come back to once again unload the car into the apartment. We sit down and eat. We pump up the air mattress. We proceed to crash out, ready to unpack the truck the next day and deal with the held hostage in our own apartment, key situation then.

We have no idea they’re predicting close to record high temperatures for the 2nd…

My Husband Drove Through Texas and All I Got Was this Lousy Landscape

We wasted little time in Oklahoma!’s fine Motel of Sin before getting to the front desk to check out and I asked about the wildfires in New Mexico, if the front desk girl had heard of road closures or anything. She told me that was pretty far away and that they usually don’t get that kind of news footage ‘all the way out here’. Um, okay. I asked if I could get online somewhere and she pointed at the computer in the front lobby.

Better than nothing, I knew my sister had sent some links on the fire in Los Alamos as it was a little closer to I-40 than I would have liked (about 80 miles). I opened my email to get to her message and saw that I had 67 new messages.

Oh brother. That first week of internet access in Phoenix was going to trap me in front of the computer and never before had I so badly wanted a smart phone just to keep up with the influx.

With the wildfire info in hand (that we were good to go), and Matt waiting in the parking lot for me to check out ten minutes prior, I pounded pavement right past the tasty smelling Danish cart and hopped into my perch above the traffic.

With half of Oklahoma! And a corner of Texas to go before reaching New Mexico, we both remarked that maybe we’d be lucky enough to catch a tornado touch down. Somewhere like 2 miles away on the horizon and heading either north or east. Something I could get on film but that we would actually live through it to post pictures of later.

After O!KC we promptly entered dry and desoland. If it hadn’t been for the huge sign (the 'everything in Texas is bigger' adage rang oh so true) it would have been barely perceptible that we’d even crossed into another state.

Country music interspersed with They Might Be Giants and the Foo Fighters got us to the Texas state line. I was all too happy to put all of those way too excited exclamation points behind us where they belonged. In Oklahoma!

And as we crept into Texas it suddenly occurred to us both that there was a reason all those early settlers stopped before attempting to cross it. No offense to anyone from that area but man is it ever flat, hot and crappy. Maybe every fifth house was still occupied, not the other way around like in many of the other states on our journey, and there was so much rusted out crap along the Interstate that it looked like a big drawn out trash heap.

I remember that Dallas was a pretty cool city and have heard amazing things about Austin so my radar was up to see what the rest of the state had to offer. I think I took about 10 pictures the whole time and they’re all of abandoned stuff along old Route 66, or flat, brown nothingness.

Then suddenly in the distance we saw a huge yellow sign straddling the entire highway. It was the welcome to New Mexico sign!

My nerves were pretty calm by this point but I got a little stomach flip -- we’d just entered the state where we would spend the last night in a hotel before we were home! We stopped at the welcome center and saw a sign for free coffee if we signed the guestbook. With about another 200+ miles to go before reaching Albuquerque that was a no brainer.

We chatted with the gals behind the desk for a few and grabbed a couple free guides to the awesomeness of the state, then headed around the counter toward the coffee. We stopped to check out every map for a minute and at the end of the counter there was a full map of the country.

My eyes went to where we were and slowly traveled back over our route to where we had come from. I thought the tears were behind me in O!KC but apparently all it took was seeing the word ‘Boston’ in tiny letters on a simple piece of paper.  I was just happy to still be wearing my sunglasses.

What a wussy. A slightly homesick wussy. But a much warmer wussy, one who was trying to look forward, not back.

In the spirit of forward motion we grabbed our coffee and headed outside to sit on something other than the truck seats for a couple minutes. I regained my composure, finished the shot of fuel and we were off.

The road for a while was similar to Texas and I kept asking where the silly mountains were. Didn’t we have to do something with the Rockies? Like climb up and over them perhaps? As if scripted the terrain began to shift, rock took on a reddish glow and mesas started to appear.

We skirted an insanely huge weather system that put down a bunch of lightning and raindrops about 2-3” around. Some rain hit the truck and I watched as a bolt actually sparked a fire way off in the distance. The rain put it out almost immediately and I said a little thank you to the powers that be; the folks in that area didn’t need any more fires to battle.

With more to look at the miles sailed by and with a weather system like that to marvel over, our spirits were really high. My dad even commented on how much calmer I sounded on my check in with him that night. He was right. I was mostly comfortable in the truck and loving the weather and wide open spaces. Not to mention the mountains.

As if they were gone one minute and there the next they suddenly started to rise in front of us and we were just happy to have something beautiful to see after so many miles of barren wasteland. Houses became more prevalent and cuteness started to appear on the sides of overpasses.

We had arrived in Al-ba-Q-Q.

There was no smoke or fire from the road, our hotel was super simple to find and check in was a breeze. With tons of truck parking (pull through spots this time!) and daylight still available we walked to the front of the hotel after dropping our bags to see the most amazing sunset on the entire journey. Words wouldn’t do it justice. Pictures didn’t even do it justice!

We settled in and flicked on Burn Notice, fully happy and feeling the least sketched out the entire trip. Both of us slept well and got ready for the last leg of the journey the next morning.

Well, the last leg of the drive anyway. The journey decided to prolong itself for days…

And Matt Would Drive 500 Miles, and Then He’d Drive 500 More

We made it to the Mississippi state line fairly quickly, better known as the Mississippi River, and crossed into Arkansas. Now I’d like to point out here that the state motto or tag line or whatever you call it is the “Natural State”. Isn’t that just lovely? Well it was lovely to consider until we reached a spot approximately 200 yards past the river’s edge and saw a crop duster actually spewing something all over a farm field. Something that tasted and smelled pretty vile.

Yeah, natural my ass.

I tried to get a good picture of the duster but only managed to catch it in the air, everything low to the ground came out blurry. Honestly blurry is a good word of the day. My memory of anything in Arkansas after the 10 minutes of traffic we sat in just past the duster is just that, a little blurry.

I’m guessing that’s because in that part of Arkansas along I-40 there’s basically a whole lot of nothing not because of the fumes I inhaled that came out of the back of an airplane. At least that’s what I’d like to believe.

So we drove and drove and continued driving through the very barren landscape that started losing trees and gaining tumbleweeds with every mile. We listened to some music. We chatted about how it was going to be a pretty long day on the road to get to Oklahoma! City.

We hit the Arkansas welcome center and had a quick shot of excitement when Matt had to get out my side of the truck because of the swarm of bees on his side. That should give you a clue of just how exciting this day of driving really was. Yeah. I tried to nap but those seats were so uncomfortable.

I turned off the iPod because, frankly, I was tired of forwarding through every third song because it was Bryan Adams (who Matt detests) or Natalie Merchant (who makes me want to stick a hot poker into my inner ear to dull the pain of her voice) and flicked on some country music.

I started thinking of touring musicians. Suddenly I realized how easy it would be to get road weary, burned out from travel. We were only doing this for 6 days, musicians are in a new town/time zone/state/city just about everyday. I can’t imagine trying to keep up with knowing what time it is or trying to find decent food while traveling. At least they get a bed like bunk to crash out in though. My jealousy and longing for a tour bus shot up about 100% across the heartland of America.

But anyway, speaking of country music…my friend S bet me that within 6 months in Arizona I’d have a country station preset on my radio dial. I firmly and emphatically denied that would ever come to fruition. And here’s why.

By nature, and at my very heart and soul, I’m now and will always be a rocker. This information comes into play as we hit the Maricopa County line in Arizona but you’ll have to wait for that for a couple days. But anyway, country has never been something I was just drawn to listen to in a full time capacity. Give me fast bass drums, give me whaling electric guitar, give me growling singers who don’t wear wide rimmed hats.

Of course that doesn’t mean that there haven’t been a few artists or songs in the more twang ridden genre that haven’t resonated with me over the years. I love me some Reba and frankly every single time I hear Brad Paisley’s “Letter to Me” I actually get a little teary eyed regardless that I personally never went through any of the stuff he sings about in the song. There’s just something so lyrically melancholy about looking back over your own life in a way that if you could give yourself advice at age 17 from what you know now that tugs my heart strings.

But that’s not to say that on the way out here we weren’t slightly limited in our radio selection either and basically had no other choice. Oh we were limited alright. The entire drive across Arkansas and Oklahoma!, plus most if not all of Texas, was limited to either Christian music or country. So, like I said, when in the Midwest do as Midwesterners do.

And I fell in love with Justin Moore’s “If Heaven Wasn’t So Far Away”. In fact we heard it so many times that I gleaned it must be a new release for country radio and I got to know it by the lead in alone. Then I found myself turning it up. We heard it as we were approaching our hotel in Oklahoma! City and I of course got a little teary eyed.

The first couple times you hear a song (well this is true for me anyway) it’s the chorus you pick up on but you don’t really put the lyrics together. This was about my third listen and suddenly the lines “If heaven wasn’t so far away…Then tell him we'd be back in a couple of days. In the rear view mirror we'd all watch 'em wave. Yeah, and losing them wouldn't be so hard to take. If heaven wasn't so far away.” Hit me like a ton of bricks.

I’m not saying Boston is heaven, Lord knows if it was I probably wouldn’t have left , but damn if it isn’t so far away and being on the ultimate road trip heading west sure put all those people in my rearview mirror. I just couldn’t take it and turned off the radio.

So that’s the real reason I won’t preset a country station honestly, too many songs that make you cry damn it!

We pulled into our hotel in Oklahoma! City mere moments later and all that teary eyed blubbering was totally replaced by a slight twinge of fear of transients.

Matt found a good spot right near the front office where he’d be able to back up straight if need be but could pull right out if the guy in front of him left before we did in the morning and I went in to check in.

The front desk girl was pleasant and even gave us a room on the first floor so it would be easier to keep an eye on the truck if we wanted to. Red flag #1 which I glazed right over. She gave me keys and my grumbling tummy went to help Matt take all the crap out of the car we’d need to spend the night, though it looked like we were moving in.

Just like the girls on the top floor who spent a lot more time in rooms that weren’t theirs. Come to think of it, they stayed in those rooms for bursts of about 30 minutes. Welcome to the Hooker Hotel Oklahoma! South. We hope you enjoy your stay. Should you need service of any kind don’t call the front desk, just knock 4 times on room number 2222 and oh you’ll get serviced alright.

How do you spell the sound that comes out when you shudder physically at something so sketchy you wish there was time to go find a new place to stay?

My first instinct (as with every hotel) was to go through all the drawers, the Bible, and make sure there was toilet paper and towels. We ordered from a pizza delivery place close by and watched a little cable while I screamed at the computer for not allowing me to get online and post my witty ‘service you’ reference as a status update on Facebook.

Then I promptly crashed out on the bug free and surprisingly comfortable king sized bed, ready to get the heck out of Hookerville at the crack of first light.

Short(er) and Sweet (Tea)

Its funny but after those first two days on the road I honestly started to settle into the truck. It wasn’t exactly comfortable per se but by then I knew just where everything was, had some good music kickin and started to enjoy the journey. I knew that we were about to enter MS and see my MIL who we hadn’t seen for way too long and I was looking forward to spending some time together, even if only for one night.

From Cookeville to MS we just yakked at each other and I marveled at the sight known as kudzu. I guess I always thought Matt was just exaggerating when he said the stuff blanketed trees and grew up and over roadways in the span of one season. But oh no, he was not joking at all. In fact MIL said it can grow up to 18” per day.

Guess that’s why they say don’t lie out tanning in your backyard for too long, you might just be swallowed alive by heart shaped leaves attached to life choking vine. Interested to learn about why kudzu is even in this country and why it just won’t go away? Click here

After the Days Inn debacle we knew better than to try to get the truck down MIL’s street so a few blocks before her CR- (that’s Country Road FYI) we found the closest Walmart and crossed our fingers. At most Walmart’s across the country you’re allowed to park a vehicle overnight. It’s just that those vehicles usually come with the requirement of a different type of license – RV, tractor trailer, tour bus – and our 16’ box truck with a car hitch isn’t exactly what one might refer to as rock ‘n roll.

I started by having Matt drop me off at the door and told him just to circle around the lot. The nice lady at the front door said it should be fine but talk to customer service. The nice man in customer service said it should be fine but he’d talk to his assistant managers. One of them requested my name and phone number. The other said no more than 24 hours. We were good to go!

After his 8th circle (because all those calls and conversations took just a touch longer down south, Sugar) we met back at the front and with the info in hand of exactly where in the lot to go, we made our way to the front, pulled through and proceeded to drop the car off the trailer for the first time in over 48 hours.

As we shoved bags into the backseat on top of the bags already in the back seat and got in we both laughed at how tiny we felt now. The immediate thought that went through my mind was that as soon as we hit Arizona I’m so getting my huge black truck with tires as big as me and the step ladder I’ll need to get behind the wheel of the thing.

Don’t worry, I don’t hate the environment now or anything, it’ll mostly sit in the driveway anyway considering the current state of gas prices.

We got to MIL’s place and had a handful of hours to chill and chat in central air around the kitchen table. At one point (around 9:30) I started to actually drift off in the chair. My body, don’t forget, thought it was still 10:30 after two and a half straight days inside the very rigid backed bucket seat of a box truck.

I locked myself in the guest room for about 15 minutes and did a few sun salutations. I needed to wake up, stretch my very compressed stomach muscles (hello upward dog!) and detox a little of the road food. As a side note, we’re back on our workout routine starting next Monday yippie!

We had a Pizza Hut pizza which pained me to do because I wanted to arrive in AZ with the memory of Bianchi’s still on my taste buds but it was food and had about 2 peppers on it so at least I ate 1/20 of a serving of veggies. Upon the next drift-off I finally declared that regardless of what they did, I was heading for bed.

The next morning MIL had to work anyway so it worked out great. We crashed out and at about 8:30 AM hugged our goodbyes and headed back with fingers crossed that the truck would still be in the lot. A wave out the window at MIL who was heading up the road, a nod at the truck and trailer being right where we left them and a quick 15 minutes to get the car hooked back up and we were back on the road.

Move That Truck!

One might think the second day of driving would be easier.  But one would be just a teeny bit wrong. Not to say that there was as much traffic as the first day, not by a long shot, but we’d planned the trip to have drive times of 8 hours, 10 hours, 8, 10, 10, 8 so there could be a little breathing room.  So any extra traffic kind of shot a big pointy arrow through the heart of our best laid plans. Things worked out a little closer to 12, 12, 8, 11, 11, 10.

Road weary would be an extreme understatement.

The bright side though is that I pretty much could tell you the cleanest rest areas from Boston to Phoenix because with all the water I had to drink to avoid the swelling of extremities from sitting in a pleather bucket seat for a week, I pretty much had to pee every 10 minutes.

As opposed to usual when I only have to pee every 15 of course.

We rolled into the Days Inn Cookeville at about 10:00 PM and upon check in learned there was only one truck spot open. It was all the way at the back of the hotel which was fine because it was right outside our door pretty much. The thing was there was no pull through so no matter what we were going to have to figure out how to back up with the trailer attached to the truck. We both decided that would best happen in the morning after a good short night’s sleep and a big old cup of coffee.

That was one of the best decisions we’d made to date.

It was slightly raining the next morning and the raucous thunderstorm actually woke me up at about 5:00. The construction vehicles that were supposed to be gone to work were still firmly planted in their spots. So we walked out the measurements of the truck and parking lot to see how we could make the turn.

Matt walked the truck and got 44. I walked the lot and got 43. Oh.

With much debate we decided that since we had a lot of room at the end of the lot we could make it even if it was a 600 point turn. Of course a trailer does exactly opposite of what you want it to do. Or rather, a trailer does exactly opposite of what the truck does. With one foot to play with we held our breath and Matt started to make the turn.

You know how traumatic experiences can be blocked in one’s mind and sink deep into the subconscious? Yeah, well the next 30 minutes of my life after that moment are not like that. I remember every detail with such vivid clarity that even now that I’m sitting on my freshly shampooed Berber carpet in Arizona I start to physically shake a little even thinking about it.

There was one moment when I said, through the streaming tears on my cheeks, that clearly we’d be moving into the Cookeville, Tennessee Days Inn for the rest of our lives. On the tight turns the cross bars of the trailer were closer to the step up into the back of the truck than we really wanted but it never touched so we just kept going. And going, and going. Going until I was shaking with fear that the truck was going to get trapped crossways in the lot and then we’d really be stuck.

The 200 foot drop down into the hazardous water river (oh yes it was clearly marked with signs that said as much but I wasn’t exactly in my right mind to be taking photos of the type of stuff I usually would – stuff like that) wasn’t really what I had in mind when we said we could just drop the car off the trailer.

We both lit another cigarette. Until that exact moment we had both managed to get through the move without even a hint of pissing each other off. This was a step that I noted deep inside because every other move prior we’d have already been hating each other. See the thing is we’re both highly logical people its just that sometimes Matt’s logic is just wrong.

And I can say that all I want because this is my blog and there’s no one to tell me it isn’t true (go ahead and try to comment babe and watch as I hit the delete button before anyone gets to read just how very wrong I am).

With my own logic and a caffeine/nicotine/adrenaline induced panic attack firmly under way I paced the parking lot sobbing while Matt got out of the truck for the 800th time to put his hand on his chin in that ‘I just stare at the trailer, but it looks like I’m thinking’ squinty-eyed look on his face.

We both talked out what to do. Okay in all fairness, we both warbled exactly what to do because nothing coherent was coming out of either of our mouths. I think at one point I actually considered suggesting that we could probably pick up and turn the trailer with the car still on it just from the sheer adrenaline coursing through our veins. Luckily in a moment of clarity I did not utter this suggestion out loud.

He got back behind the wheel and said ‘tell me if that trailer cross bar gets any closer to the back of the truck, I have a plan’. Cringing at the thought of all bad things starting with the phrase ‘here, hold my beer for a second and check this out…’ I was just happy we were drinking coffee. I kept my mouth shut and continued to flag him on because that bar couldn’t really have gotten any closer than it already was.

Matt kept putting it in reverse. Then drive. Then reverse. Then drive until he finally got back out and surveyed the front of the truck. Somewhere neither of us had been in about 3 hours since we’d started this catastrophe of a turn around. We both walked up there and looked.

I knew in an instant he had enough room to make the turn. I knew it wouldn’t put the bar any closer. I knew the trailer was going to turn, nothing was going to snap and we were going to actually leave Cookeville, Tennessee.

He got back behind the wheel and I used the finger motion of ‘yup, just keep ‘er commin’ until he had cleared the concrete barrier at the end of the parking spaces. I know it was by some miracle of fate (as if the gods were somehow shining down on us and moved the concrete block at the end of the parking spot) that Matt managed to make the turn.

We were free!

Faster than you could say ‘ see ya’ll later’ we were out and on the road to Mississippi!

Traffic and Pot Holes and Tolls, Oh My!

So we leave Massachusetts at about 11:00 in the morning. It’s a Sunday so we really didn’t think too much of it for the drive down to D.C. Our plan was to spend the night at our friend’s place and do dinner with him, etc. Matt decided that 95 south would be a better choice than trying to go I-84 through Hartford with the car trailer. Because every time we hit a bump the two of us looked in the side mirrors to make sure the trailer was still attached and that Little Car was still on top of it.

Remember the play “The Princess and the Pea” and how even on top of like 100 mattresses she could feel the teeny pea beneath her as she tried to sleep? Yeah, well the smallest pebble was paid attention to underneath those trailer wheels let me tell ya.

Luckily we didn’t have to worry about high speed bumps for very long because as soon as we got outside of Massachusetts we hit traffic. And then we sat in traffic through all of Rhode Island. All of Connecticut. All of New York. New Jersey. Maryland. Pretty much the only place we sailed through was Delaware but seriously, DE would have been the one state in the northeast I wouldn’t have minded to sit in traffic to get through seeing as though at its widest point it’s about 200 feet.

And to get through those 200 feet, the fabulous state of Delaware charged us about $6000 in tolls. That bridge is about 100 feet of the 200 feet of the state and they don’t just charge you to get on the thing, they charge you to get off it too. No wonder there’s so many signs for calling the Samaritans instead of jumping off, after paying the $5500 to get on the bridge you’re cleaned out and have no way to pay the next toll. If only the Samaritans would show up with a fist full of cash, that might help out more than the vocal support.

Somehow we managed to scrape enough change together to get into Virginia’s traffic and after many text messages we pulled onto our friend’s street at about 11:15 PM. Twelve hours on day one was not at all what I had hoped for but we were there and our bellies filled at Roy Rogers meant we were ready to crash.

Our friend and his girlfriend were such troopers and both hung out until we arrived. Not only did we only get to meet her for fourteen seconds but she baked us a whole bag of chocolate chip cookies for the road. How awesome is she?!

And those cookies were gone in a flash and were awesome to accompany the bag full of yummy road treats my mom tossed at us on the way out the door.

We crashed out and the next morning had breakfast with our friend before he had to head out to work and we headed out to make the long journey on to Cookeville, Tennessee.

Luckily there was no traffic to speak of after we got to the other side of the District and we were on the road. But man, let me tell you, getting to Knoxville from Virginia in a 16’ box truck with a car on a trailer is no fun task. At least for the temperature gauge. Those mountains were a challenge to traverse but we somehow made it up and over. And then the road just went on and on…

When Will I Stop Calling it Home?

And by “it” I mean Boston of course. This was a question I posed to Matt when we had reached some point in Oklahoma, or Arkansas, or Texas, or New Mexico. I can’t be sure. The dates and times are a bit fuzzy. We were driving along and looking out over the incredibly flat, desolate landscape and talking about traffic or some other thing about highways in New England that we won’t miss and I said ‘Back home you’d never see that…I mean, back in Boston.’

My statement was immediately followed up by the question in the title of this blog and his response was ‘It’ll probably take years. Then you’ll call it back east. Then you’ll call it where I came from. But by then you’ll probably be about 75.’

I’m sure he’s right, but for now, as I look around our totally empty apartment in Phoenix with the half falling apart cabinetry and chips out of the bathroom countertops, I can’t help but feel like it isn’t quite ours; it’s like checking into a really expensive hotel for a long term stay.

And that’s okay, I never planned to stay in this apartment forever, we’ll buy a house in a year or two and then I’ll feel more like Phoenix is my home. But for now there are other more important things to discuss. Like how totally “us” this whole entire trip has really been.

So let’s step away from the melancholy for a few minutes shall we?

The journey of course began by saying goodbye to our little elf, George. Those of you who don’t know the story of the bowling elf that lived upstairs from us, he was quite elusive. We never actually caught sight of him but he sure liked to roll for strikes and spares every night. Most days. And even some mornings. Saying goodbye to him wasn’t really going to be all that sad.

On Saturday we picked up the truck at 8:00 AM on the dot. In a deluge. And no, this isn’t an exaggeration of a little light rain where we could maybe still load the truck. I mean rivaling monsoons kind of downpour. So the guy at Anderson Auto showed Matt how to do the hitch for the trailer and I was just glad the seats in the truck were vinyl because Matt was one soggy mess. We dropped the trailer overnight in front of my dad’s house & by the time we got home the neighbors upstairs had moved their cars out of the driveway. Thanks neighbors!

The truck fit like a dream in our driveway and by some miraculous chance there was no issue with getting the thing into it either (normally there would be a car parked 2 feet over the edge of the curb so that turn would have been just a wee bit of an issue). The rain stopped, I finished packing up the kitchen with help from Mum and my WSM and between Matt and Dad, the truck was loaded with everything but our toothbrushes, clothes suitcases and our bed long before anyone was even due to arrive for the party.

Yes, I said party. In some stroke of ‘genius’ I thought it might be a good idea, on the same day we were loading the truck, to have a goodbye party. I headed out to pick up the cold cut and veggie platters and on Saturday afternoon we had a big old bash to say goodbye to everyone and, of course, to celebrate my birthday. Oh right…my birthday!

At about one in the morning on Friday night, as we went to bed in our huge echo chamber of an almost empty apartment, Matt had said ‘Happy birthday!’ and I had literally forgotten. Being wrapped up in my head with this move sure made me forget just about everything else. But seriously, forget my own birthday? Um, so not like me.

(So as a side note, sorry that I very likely missed your birthday, anniversary, bat mitzvah, dog’s christening, anything that didn’t involve Mrs. Egotistical Me for the past couple weeks, and here’s hoping they were all marvelous celebrations!)

The party was a great time and it was awesome to be able to get everyone in the same place at the same time. First time we’ve managed to do that since our wedding, I think. All the super cool people showed up, and the other cool people who couldn’t make it got in touch in their own way. So I must say thank you. Quite sincerely. Just having your energy around us on the way out of town made the journey so much easier.

Sunday morning it was up at 6:30 again and with us not usually crashing until one o’clock most nights, I was starting to get a little loopy. My mom showed up again by about 7:00 or so and with plastic around the mattress, we all got the last of the truck loaded. Mom took Goodwill stuff and dad’s plastic chairs in her car and I followed Matt over to dad’s to put the car onto the trailer so we could hit the road.

Of course we wanted to hit the pavement at 9:00 but there’s a reason we call it the FitzPatrick Goodbye. Dad had a golf tournament but WSM was there, and mum of course. When all was said and done we had the truck pulling away from the curb by about 11:00.

I started crying at approximately 11:00:03.

It’s not that I’m not happy about this new adventure. It’s not that I’m not excited for the opportunities that moving to this part of the country provides us. It’s not that I’m not really, really excited to see the people on the west side of the country that we love and had less chance to spend time with while living in Massachusetts.

It’s just that leaving a place, the only one really, that you know so well can actually cause you to well up when seeing the city of Boston on a map of the country in the New Mexico welcome center. Yeah.

But that’s five days after we left and we sure had our fair share of excitement before getting to that point.

My Life Would Suck Without You

Today I’m supposed to post ‘a picture of someone you could never imagine your life without’. There is no question that person is Matt. We’ve known each other for twelve years now, (almost to the day in fact!) and it feels like five minutes ago that we met out on that smoking patio at Flagstar.

My life has been forever changed because you’re in it, I really couldn’t imagine slipping on a banana peel and roller-blading into a Sasquatch with anyone but you.

I’ve dedicated a whole lot of time and stories galore to my husband on this blog over the years, so today I’m going to leave you with a link to the post I wrote on our anniversary in September of 2008.

Easier

*****************************************************************

Catch up on anything you missed  30 Photos, 30 Days
*****************************************************************

Lets Get Pissed!

A picture of the person you do the most screwed up things with. That’s today’s little photographic snack. I can’t believe it took me this many days before featuring Matt but he just didn’t fit the bill before. Today’s however, although it was kind of a tough decision overall, is really just perfectly suited to get him some air time.

I really, honestly grappled whether I should pick him for this category as I started thinking my friend D is a fairly appropriate choice. She and I have done stuff over the years so far beyond the level of ‘screwed up’, that it’s probably illegal in some states.

Actually, okay, it’s probably only legal in some states.

Now get your mind out of the gutter, that’s not what I mean.

But I also can’t really tell you what I mean. If I talk about all the occasions when we did all we did, I’d potentially get her fired. Ah the beauty of the internet, it’s a breeding ground for lies and deceptions so as to elude the boss’ roving eye. And really, what the hell is your boss doing online anyway? Shouldn’t he/she be working too? Yeah, that’s what I thought. But I digress…

As far back as I can remember Matt and I have been doing all kinds of effed up stuff together. And I guess every person is really going to have a wildly different definition of what constitutes doing screwed up stuff. For me its all about randomness, acting like dorks, getting into trouble without being in trouble, leaping without looking kind of stuff, taking chances and all around just doing what feels right at the time even if it isn’t what society would deem the smartest or most adult thing to do. And nine times out of ten it will involve a road trip or travel in some way.

He’s the one I ran around gas pumps with, singing at the top of our lungs, at 1:00 in the morning, in the middle of BFE Pennsylvania the Saturday of the weekend we drove his car to Ohio.

He’s the one who drove us home from Manhattan the night we all walked around the Upper East Side screaming with laughter, and then later he cleaned the upchucked red wine out of his front door pocket and speaker (yeah that would’ve been me).

He’s the only one who could really understand why the “ice machine” is one of the most important features of a Motel 6 in the middle of Ohio.

He’s the only one I could ever imagine being with when we wake up at 9:00 on a Saturday morning and say ‘Hey, let’s go to Quebec for the afternoon.” And then we do.

He’s the one who piggy backed me out of a club in downtown Boston totally sober and reminded me that there are still good people out there in the world over coffee that lasted until who knows what hour.

He’s the only person I could ever imagine understanding why it’s just so much easier to drive to Toronto to pick up our wedding bands than to have them shipped to us.

He’s the one who makes my friends laugh because he’s the only guy I’ve ever met whose wit can actually keep up with mine.

He’s the only person who could ever enjoy getting his ass kicked in Scrabble 9.9 out of 10 times but still gets excited to bring the travel version with us to an outdoor music festival where we play a couple games over a couple beers and he gets his ass kicked yet again.

He’s there when I spend countless dollars in the machine to get stickers that end up plastered all over both of our bumpers.

He’s the one who points at the fire engine red hair dye and says ‘just do that again.’

He’s the only person I know that would agree to drive down to Maryland with me, when I’m leaving to go do a paint job in less than an hour, then have me drop him at the airport in Baltimore on the way to the jobsite so he can fly back the exact same day.

He’s the only one I’d ever want to pick on the Bra Genie infomercial with.

He’s the one whose hand I’m holding when we decide to crash a townie bar -- in Ireland, on the Jersey Shore, wherever -- and end up making friends with everyone in the place before the night is over.

He’s the only one who understands why pulling over in Connecticut, while on a random road trip, is absolutely necessary sometimes.

He’s the guy that just last week asked me ‘Should we just move to California instead?’

He’s the guy who will find a chili cheese dog with onions, even if it takes 4 hours of driving around to locate somewhere to buy one, and then discovering on the way back from that place that there was a Dairy Queen 15 minutes away from our house.

He’s just as likely as I am to point at something from the road and say ‘get me to that’, regardless if we have to drive through paint scratching, brambling branches or entire farms worth of deer to see it.

He’s the one I’ve been with when staying in the top five sketchiest motels of all time -- Grand Prix in Florida, Motel 6 in Springfield, That one on the way to Atlanta when we heard gunfire out the window, the motel in Ohio where people like to see their cars, and of course who could ever forget Pottsville, Pennsylvania where I couldn’t even begin to list all the ways that place was a crime scene.

*****************************************************************
Catch up on anything you missed  30 Photos, 30 Days
*****************************************************************

All You Need Is a Light Jacket

Some of you will recognize the reference in the title, and those who do will understand that although I’m not specifically picking April 25th as my day four selection, I am trying to think outside the confines of how it reads. Because, like I thought when reading the list initially and Bridgete said yesterday, how on earth could I pick just one?

Today’s photographic selection is:
A picture of your favorite night

So am I really supposed to look back over time and pick a night, just one, that was the most amazing and significant night of my life? If so how could I honestly rate one above the other?

My wedding was pretty fracking awesome.
• But was it really better than the night I got to celebrate (miraculously) graduating from high school?
• The first night I spent, born, on this planet?
• The first time I had sex?
• A random Sunday on a road trip while laughing hysterically?
• That night I got the ‘all clear’ call from my BFF about the C word?
• The time when I was fortunate enough to be invited on a free trip to Disney and got to go on some of the park’s most awesome rides after dark, with just our group and no one else, then ate a catered and served fancy dinner inside the ride?
• The party at my very first apartment?
• The one and only time I made alternate for the gymnastics League Meet?
• When I saw Jason Mraz with no more than 100 people in NYC, he was still a “nobody”, and I was about 20 feet from the stage when someone yelled at him “have my Asian baby” and despite his obvious end of tour exhaustion he laughed out loud?
• Any of the 3rd of July’s in Humarock?
• The one and only time I ever bet on sports and won $1000?
• The first time I was ever put 'on the list' at the door of a club?
• The night I let my friend’s now ex do up my bleach blonde hair in the most insanely freaky style ever then went out to dance in Raleigh (stone cold sober because I was the DD) and took home an Army brat that I didn’t sleep with?
• The time I saw Joey McIntyre at the Hatch Shell, wrote about the show, pitched it to a local radio station and was subsequently published for the first time?
• Every single night because Matt and I cuddle up and snuggle before falling asleep?
• When I won tickets on the radio to go see Bryan Adams back in the 80’s and my sister and I had my dad take us to Worcester where just the two of us got to see the show from like the second row of the first balcony?
• My grampa Ed’s funeral after party? (No judgment people, we’re Irish so the funeral party is almost as big a celebration of life as a birth, wedding, random Tuesday…)
• The night we were the only Americans in a semi-secret club in Amsterdam because I happened to tip the girl serving me coffee and simply asked where was cool to go dance?
• The first time Matt asked me out (and then I made him wait approximately 1000 more nights before saying yes) when he carried me on his back out of the club (sober) and we realized we had way too much in common as we stayed up almost all night talking over coffee at Bickford’s in Woburn?
• Every single night of my almost 38 years on this planet?

Whew, that’s a tall order!

So I’m not going to pick a night from my past, I’m not going to pick a night of the week either. Instead I’m just going to pick my favorite Night -- "Starry Night" by my all time favorite painter Vincent van Gogh.

*****************************************************************
Catch up on anything you missed  30 Photos, 30 Days
*****************************************************************

Thanks, for the Everything

I’ve been spotty reading blogs lately as well as commenting back to people’s posts but yesterday a photo and post over at Freshness Factor Five Thousand had me thinking about all the things I’m grateful for, thanks-full for and inspired to acknowledge. It’s been quite a while since I’ve put one of these lists together so it seemed like the right time to do it.

A lot has been going on here and many changes are afoot this year and I really love how every year, month, week, day, hour brings a new reason to be grateful or inspired. Sometimes it’s just nice to take stock of what we have, what we’ve had and where we hope to be so of course this list is far from all inclusive but off the top this is my own personal accounting of the awesomeness as I see it in the world. As always, in no particular order.

Heat
Hot water
Cups of tea, coffee and clean drinking water
Bacon & blue burgers
An open mind
Family
Friends
Fun times with both of the above
Music that gets me through the hard times
Music that inspires me to acknowledge the happy times
Playing the drums and the man who is teaching me to do so
Winning the lottery
Having a little extra to donate to charity because of the above
Fruits and vegetables
P90X
Facebook
Ability to ingest information as I start my journey toward an MA in English
Inspiration
My sewing machine
My paint brushes
Muscles to work hard and work out
Yoga
A healthy dose of cynicism
Showers and toothbrushes
Creativity
The library
Snuggling
Lost
Gas in my car’s tank
Agents who have rejected me & my novel
Football
My bloggy friends, some of whom I consider to be my closest friends in the world
Writer’s license
Cannoli
Enough money to pay the bills
A little extra left over to save for our upcoming move
Strength I’ve gained through adversity
Books
Hair dye
The end of eras, relationships and experiences
All six senses
Silence
Crackers
eBay and the people who buy what I sell
Fabric
A roof over my head
Poetry
Wool socks & winter boots
Flip flops and bathing suits
Sunshine
The power to change
The knowledge to know when to do just that
The sense to know when not to
A voice to speak how I really feel
The couth to know that some stories should be kept private forever
Basil
Road trips
Victoria’s Secret
Rainbows and sunsets
Hugs
Stars
Art in every form
Love in every form and sense of the word
My terrycloth bathrobe that I’ve had for 15 years and still love like it was brand new
Laughter
Intention
Acceptance
And of course, the unrelenting, unwavering, love and support of my husband; without it I would have been committed years ago. ♥

Boredom Is…

Being sick. Okay, in all fairness it’s not really being sick that defines boredom but rather the lack of options when one is. I guess it was my body’s way of saying ‘oh no, I think you had plenty of excitement last weekend down at the Jersey Shore to suffice for an entire week of laying around.’ So lay around I do.

This week we got back from our long weekend in New Jersey and all I brought back was some awesome arcade booty and a killer cold. Thanks for that New Jersey. I was already on the fence about you, so this just pushed me right over the edge.

Tuesday morning I woke up and just knew something was off. I could feel the first rumblings of a cough in the upper area of my chest and my head had a slight tinge of an ache way in the back recesses. But since I never stop, I plunked myself in front of my computer instead of on the sofa. Mistake number one.

Hey, I finished 9 chapters and got all the pictures from our trip edited so I was feeling pretty good. But as the day progressed my eyelids started getting heavier and so did my cough. I made myself tea and repeated the ‘I’m healthy’ mantra over and over but by dinner time I had to admit it -- I was sick.

So I should back up here and say that being sick just isn’t in my vocabulary. I have a pretty healthy immune system and because I generally try to eat well and get decent sleep every night I’m able to fight off whatever germs come my way, even if Matt caught it first. Sick baffles me and I start to consider just how I could have picked up this nasty viral bitch.

Perhaps it was the hotel room door swinging back and forth in the breeze even with the deadbolt on (in the most ghetto part of town mind you) that kept me up at night, causing lack of sleep so I wasn’t well rested. Maybe it was the 5 beers I drank in four hours at the local townie bar while watching the Patriots lose to the Jets (its $2 pints every day and all day at Riggers woo hoo!). Or maybe, just maybe, it was the very drunk, and very sad, birthday girl crying on my shoulder in the ladies room that brought on the germs.

Then again it could have been from playing skee ball for 2 hours in the arcade with all of those under ten germ machines (high score 340,000 in one game…I rule!). It wasn’t like I was carrying around a bottle of hand sanitizer that I used every time after I threw a ball. Mistake number two.

Regardless of where the little bugger found its way into my system, by Wednesday morning I was toast.

And because I don’t get sick often I’m really no good at it. Like, really no good. I set up my laptop table and a cup of chai tea and decided that if I couldn’t be at the computer, there was at least going to be a little work done on my book that day. I was on a roll from Tuesday and wanted to finish everything this week.

Insert hysterical laughter here.

I barely made it through one chapter. One chapter I’ll have to go back and re-edit again that is. I thought it was just my body that rebelled against me but my brain wasn’t functioning either. I couldn’t get clear enough to wrap my head around my characters so every word I wrote sounded stiff and forced, and that was exactly what I was trying to get rid of in the first place.

Between flushing out the fluids, downing cough medicine like it was the latest drink craze and stirring chicken soup, I was spent. With a sigh I closed my laptop and admitted defeat.

But my next move was unthinkable. Even I couldn’t believe I was doing it but I went to the free movies list in my cable provider’s ‘On Demand’ menu and started cherry picking the best of the best.

Insert sarcasm here.

I let myself watch such classics as Single White Female, Sister Act, and Jury Duty (that’s right, the one with Pauly Shore). And just when things looked like they couldn’t get any lower I thought ‘huh, I’ve never actually seen The Blue Lagoon…’

Oh yes, I definitely went there. And it was everything I knew it would be. Luckily Matt came home shortly after that and distracted me or who knows where my viewing lows might have gone. Not that I could talk to him or anything, every time I opened my mouth to say anything I went into a coughing fit.

Insert Matt’s glee that I shut up for five seconds, and he got an entire night of peace for once, here.

With all of the best bad movies already watched on Wednesday, on Thursday I decided to go with the House marathon. I was hopeful that maybe some patient would get a rare case of the common cold so I could heal myself and stop watching television all day.

No such luck. But it was nice to see that Mackenzie Astin and D.B. Sweeney are still working. The Facts of Life and The Cutting Edge were a long time ago after all.

Today is better, I’m not as snuffly or heavy-chested but even just the hour it’s taken to type this up has caused me to wear out a little (okay, a lot but I’m still in denial). So look, I gave you two good long days body, now its your turn to give back because if I don’t get out of this house and to my drum lesson today or Town(ie) Night fireworks in Arlington tonight I’m sure to go mad.

Seriously. Don’t make me pull out Encino Man, because I will.

Broken Thoughts, Am I Early? Do I Care?

The picture is from our foliage viewing trip last weekend. It was a really nice day, we always do so much talking about all things life when we have hours of time in the car. Road trips are some of my favorite memories with Matt over the years. Even when we weren’t seeing things like Mt. Monadnock, but just the same old boring and dark roads from LINY to Springfield every Friday night for two plus years. For some reason the car is so us. Maybe that is fate telling us to buy an RV and hit the road or something. Or maybe not.

Now that I have a food processor and finally walked through the door of the unbelievably cool spice store Penzeys in Arlington (I am happy to report there are 42 across the country including one in Grand Central Terminal of all places!) it was high time for me to finally try my hand at making chocomole. That stuff is the shit!! I am not sure I can bring myself to ever make regular pudding again. Even Matt said he could not tell, and he was trying to.

I modified it from the original recipe because I didn’t have enough avocado so I ended up thinning it out a bit with the left over water from soaking the dates and I forgot completely about the coconut oil. Next time I’m thinking of using dried cherries instead of the dates, or maybe in addition to. All I know is I couldn’t even finish a whole bowl it was so rich and that is definitely not like me when it comes to chocolate. So thanks Jason, this will go into regular rotation in this house!

This afternoon my mom and I are going to visit her friend Bill, have lunch together and then just the two of us are hitting the Garment District and/or Goodwill to see if we can find some good Halloween costume supplies. Matt and I both need wigs and I was also hoping to try my hand at stitching up a little something for my costume. Pictures and/or success/disaster stories to follow!

Bill fell victim to a fairly massive stroke a couple years ago and he is now a resident of an assisted living facility in the heart of the city. He and my mom have been friends since I can remember and as a super active guy (traveling once a year to places like Paris or Africa, a stellar photographer, night shift worker, foodie, movie aficionado) the stroke was quite a life changing blow. Bill was like a second dad to me growing up, except you know, gay. I try to see him once a year, which is about all I used to see him after growing up & getting out on my own but this time of year is odd, we usually get together just after the New Year. Regardless, it should be a nice day. I anticipate we will be going for sushi but who knows.

So my neighbors upstairs are slowly pushing the both of us toward paranoia. Every time Matt or I go into the bathroom or kitchen one of them seems to follow. It wouldn’t be so bad except by some chance both of them tend to be home all day everyday like me. I wish I knew what they did for a living that they only have to leave the house once every three weeks or so; maybe they are writers too? I never hear them on a phone or talking during the day (believe me I should be able to in this place) so I don’t think they are sales people, although I know they both allegedly work in the financial industry. The only thing I hear is them walking around, but only when we do. It is now getting a little creepy. I am thinking maybe we should both become screamers.

I wonder how many books are published every year?

So has everyone seen the freaky UFO cloud in Moscow yet? No? Well it was quite a phenomenal sight apparently and one that Russian meteorologists are brushing off as a weather related, “optical” thing. Um, OK. I mean really, I saw Men In Black. Hell I own Independence Day. Where is Will Smith when you need him? Wait, did Michael Bay or Jerry Bruckheimer make either of those movies?

Speaking of Jerry Bruckheimer, last night we decided to throw on the television for the first time in weeks to watch something prime time and after a couple killer episodes of NCIS and the new (but actually really good despite the absence of Tony & Abby) NCIS: Los Angeles we clicked over to another network for the show forgotten. All hail Christian Slater! I was probably one of the only people on Earth who kind of enjoyed My Own Worst Enemy when it was on and I was sad to see it yanked so soon because I thought Slater could have done a lot more with the role. So when I discovered this show last night I was intrigued.

Not too bad, a twist on the typical crime drama where the people investigating the crime are not cops, just average citizens who concern themselves with solving Jane/John Doe crimes. I don’t think I would stay home to watch it but that isn’t saying much, there is really only one show I would stay home to watch (yes, Lost) but some other random Tuesday when we decided to throw on NCIS I hope this is still on the air.

Since taking the semi break from blogging I have been doing a ton of journal writing. Seems to be doing the trick; my brain constipation is apparently getting its recommended dose of fiber because I have a bunch of new prose for the book. Thank goodness, it was starting to feel like my creative stuff might never come back.

Tomorrow I work on the character book. This is an area where I have previously failed. I start something and then want it to be “perfect” so I never finish it but constantly go back to just the content already written and edit over and over again. Well no more. This character is dying to come to a conclusion.

Since the over edit thing has never seemed to work to get me to finish a book before I figure the best solution is to do something completely different, so this time I am just going to write the whole thing in one shot, no edits at all. After that I will re-read and edit 100 times before I shop it but at least I will be able to breathe knowing she has been purged out of me.

The Farmer’s Market is ending in a couple weeks and I am not going to be able to get there today with all the other stuff going on. Kind of a bummer but its so freaking cold out I’m not sure that is a bad thing. Besides, I shouldn’t have to grocery shop for at least three more days and I don’t want to go early, this planning meals thing is working out awesome!

Since starting to eat less meat and more protein/veggie filled meals I am actually noticing that I have dropped a couple pounds of fat off my tummy. This is impressive because I haven’t yet upped my exercise quotient. That is starting this week. Quitting smoking was the best thing ever. My whole body feels healthier and ready to get back in shape. It’s about time.

Thinking of learning Spanish, must look into local college courses. Huh, if I go back to school I can stop paying my student loans for a while too. Definitely worth looking into I think. Maybe for January. I have a few years to get it together.

Still haven’t found an artist to draw my tattoo. That might be something I have to just do myself. I am so seriously sick of putting this off, waiting for the perfect thing.

What I am really finding is there is no such thing as the perfect thing/time/situation. That thing/time/situation is right now. Procrastination went out of fashion with smoking. It is time for action.

It is going to take me at least ten extra minutes to pull the box of gloves out of the closet and put them all on. Sadly, I just put them away about two weeks ago when spring ended; welcome to the second season in New England -- winter! The voice in the basement eerily whispering “GET OUT!” is creeping back with the colder temperatures. But the spirit of “action” has me getting all my ducks in a row.

In light of that, read these awesome blogs while I go get ready to hit pavement. Later! KC, Ginger, Kate, Bridgete and Bree