This is the end, my friends, the end

The time with my Montana family was short, but sweet. I spent my time out here riding, roping, conversing, Scrabbling and, of course, eating. And snacking.

I'm about to board an airplane home to Seattle, so this will be the end of the travel blog. Thanks for following, dear readers. From now on, if you want to know what I'm up to, you'll have to call or email. I will even accept snailmail, once I have an address. Anyone who wants to visit me in Seattle is welcome. I can't guarantee a fancy guest room or anything, but if I have a roof over my head and food in my belly, you will, too.

It bears repeating...

Don't waste your time. We don't get that much. Make heaven here on earth. Grab life by the balls and wrench every last ounce of worth out of it that you can, whatever that may mean to you. Don't wait around for anyone else's permission or approval when you find something you want to do. (But, of course, DBAD.)

I'm still here

Wyoming and my family here are the best.  It's been a mellow time of hanging out, talking, reading, drinking beer, playing fetch with the relentless dog, cooking, playing scrabble... There's even been a bit of jacuzzi time, hiking, wakeboarding and hanging around a backyard fire.  I also got to drive two forklifts, one large and one small.

Tomorrow I'm going to my aunt's house in southern Montana, where, if my past experience is any indicator of future occurrences, I will have even worse cell reception than I have here.  Thanks, AT&T!

I'm planning to come home on the 26th, and am starting to stress a bit.  I've never before been in the situation where I haven't had a job or a place to live in a year and a half, so I'm a little worried about the logistics (and the reality!) of re-entering real life.  I really need to quit thinking about, you know, stuff...

I gotta get a bracelet

DBAD

Adorable puppy upstages sixteen performers

I went out on my last evening in Nashville. There were four bands playing, who were supposed to be pretty good, but I have no idea, since they were all trumped by the adorable cuddly puppy that some train-hopping, hitchhiking travelling kids had brought to the club. I ended up sitting outside all night, puppy-sitting while they watched the show. I couldn't help myself.

I'm now on my way to Sheridan, WY to visit my uncle. It's my first step toward home. I should be back before the weather turns nasty...

More nothing.

On Friday night, I had the urge to go out, so I went down to the club to see what was going on.  It was a sadly dead Friday night-- I think there was a lot of competition around town that night.  I ended up finding myself in the uncomfortable position of really liking all of the musicians who played that night as people, but not really being into any of them as artists.  Kinda weird.

I watched a fascinating documentary last week called "Iron City Blues," about this crazy town in southern Tennessee where there is no law.  None.  There used to be a single police officer, but after he quit, they never found a replacement.  A Nashville blues singer went down there to make this documentary and write a blues song about the town, which is, of course, included in the film.  If you have 53 spare minutes, this is a decent way to spend them.

Still more show reviews

Last week I caught Nashville's own Spinal Tap, Rowena of the Glen. She was so cute and sweet, I thought of her as the Dolly Parton of magickmetal. At the beginning of her show, she walked around the room with incense, blessing everyone. Even though it wasn't my kind of music, how could I leave the room? I stayed for the whole set.

On Saturday I got into the sweaty hot sold out Gogol Bordello show, which I've been looking forward to for at least a month and a half. Those guys did not disappoint. They brought all their energy and played two sets rather than have an opening band. Afterward, I went across the street to check out some fresh meat. They were pretty good for high school kids. Better than a lot of the twenty-somethings I've seen lately.

I swear, soon I'll move along and stop doing show reviews.

Hey...

Maybe some of you beer-loving scientists can tell me why any other beer consumed post Fat Tire tastes like bananas. I've noticed it particularly with Black Butte Porter and Yuengling Lager, but that observation has been limited by personal experience.

I've been too heavy on the show reviews, so all I'm gonna say about last Saturday's show was that I thoroughly enjoyed it. If you like experiprogpostrock, check out Gunslinger and Pushy Lips. I know, I know, I chose to attend based on the name alone...

Oh, and Seattle? Don't think I didn't notice that your weather has actually been nicer than Nashville's a couple of times recently. You're on my list, pal, so just watch your back.

I saw a saw!

On Monday night we went to a show in a super divey bar with terrible sound, but some friends were playing and a 22 ounce bottle of Fat Tire was only $4. The first band, who I think is split up and reformed and possibly changing their name, but here's the singer, was quiet and pretty, but I wasn't really picking up what they were putting down until the drummer traded in his sticks for a saw. A saw! I've never seen anyone play a saw before. It was amazing how he could get such precise pitch just from bending it. The sound was hauntingly lovely, and he played... at least three or four other instruments during the show, including a violin, a harmonica, and something that looked like a giant harmonica. I found out it was called a bass harmonica. Wacky. The third band, Bankrupt and the Borrowers-- whose myspace page doesn't really do them justice-- are some guys we met in Austin. Easily the best band of the night. Check them out if they make it to a town near you, although I think they might be (out of money) just about done touring for a while.

Tuesday night we went to see the Jesus Lizard, who are touring again after something like ten years of disbandedness. They were really good, but I am not a fanatic, and they weren't good enough for me to stay in the crowded hot sweaty smelly sold-out room, getting jostled by every sweaty loser in the room every two seconds (okay, maybe I woke up a little cranky that day), so I took off after three or four songs. But it was reportedly a great show, and those guys can rock pretty hard for their age, or any age.

So much for this week's show review...

I thought nothing was worse than those skinny hipster jeans

Then I was subjected to skinny hipster jean shorts. On guys. I didn't get any pictures, but I don't think you would thank me if I did.

So far, things have been fairly mellow in Nashville. I've seen a couple of local bands play. Sound and Shape stood out. I got some ethiopian food that wasn't as good as my fave places in Seattle, Chicago and Austin, but it's not the only game in town. On the Fourth of July, despite the apocalyptic combo of thunderstorms and a celebrity shooting, we managed to go out to catch the "last show" from The Pink Spiders, which was tight and energetic. Those guys know how to put on a show.

Even I am bored reading this blog post, but it has been a couple weeks, and I felt the need to reassert my presence on the planet, so sorry, and check out the cool bands...

Later, gators!

Did you know that Gainesville is the home of Gatorade?  Now the name finally makes sense.

We managed to ditch the kids during my last week in Gainesville, so we had some nice relaxed grown-up time of doing whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted.  I will spare you the details, but I assure you, there was shopping, swimming, tanning, beer drinking, grown-up food eating, beach going, and the assembling of many many puzzles.  So with a heavy heart I bid farewell to my Gainesville family, because tomorrow I am headed, once again, back to Nashville.  I just gotta try to get something out of my system...

My day, in two short acts

Auntie:  Who took a poop and didn't wipe or flush?!
Boys:  Not me!
Auntie and Me:  Uh-huuuhhh....
Me:  Well, you're both taking a bath tonight, and I'm not hearing anything about "But I'm not dirty!"

Later...

Me:  Alright, it's bathtime.  Be sure you both wash out your bums really well.
Seven-year-old:  What's a bum?!
Me:  What do you think I WANT you to wash?!
Seven-year-old:  Our butts...

And scene.

This trip continues to surprise me

I never ever ever ever never thought I would be lounging by a pool in Florida, COMPLETELY.  JEALOUS.  of the weather in Seattle.

I also never thought I would be a party to the perpetuation of the tooth fairy conspiracy.

Kanapaha

Last weekend my aunt, uncle and I went to the Kanapaha Botanical Garden. I've kinda been going to a lot of those over the last year, and they weren't all in season, but even if they had been in season, I don't think any would have been as good as this one. My first indication that it was a good place was the presence of a bottle of Off! insect repellent in the entrance building, available for everyone to use. Good idea! The place is huge-- 62 acres total-- and seems to have been carved out of a large forested area. There is a loop path that meanders through the forest, connecting the separate gardens, and is lined with those little signs describing the native flora. The herb garden is huge, with separate sides for edible herbs and scented herbs, and guests are invited to touch the scented herb plants to get all of the scentiness. I could go on and on, but it might get boring, and the gist of it all is that this place is really well designed, and if you are at all interested in botanical gardens, and find yourself near Gainesville, FL, you should most definitely check it out, giving yourself at the very least three hours.

The nannying continues to improve as the boys and I get more used to each other. If anyone reading this is considering getting work in the field of home childcare, I would suggest getting a job that pays in beer and has a pool. I dread the days in which bad behavior forces me to take away pool priveledges, because I suspect I value that time even more than they do, so that is always the last resort. It's so hot and humid down here, you can't just send the kids outside to play, because they can only tolerate about ten or twenty minutes before they turn bright red and sticky...

Hot and lazy...

Being a nanny is just about as easy as I thought it would be, which is to say not really at all.  But we're learning who lays down the law (what has two thumbs and is the boss?  This girl!) and it goes more smoothly every day.  Other than that, Florida is awesome.  We go swimming almost daily, and my aunt and I philosophize the evening away out on the patio, listening to the chorus of birds, frogs and gators.  The gators make a gentle piggy grunting noise quite often, and it is a lot less worrisome than the bellowing.

I have also been back in the kitchen, and you may notice I've added a new recipe blog to my links, as making another blog seemed to me to be the simplest (laziest?) way to share.  So if I've cooked for any of you, and you are missing the food, the recipe will probably show up there eventually, and of course there will be new things as I discover them.  If you are looking for a particular recipe, drop me a line.

Brr. I'm heading back to Florida.

The Minnesota trip was a whirlwind of driving (1538 miles total!), family time and very little sleep, except for the day I got to nap twice at my aunt's house near Bemidji.  I very nearly accomplished everything I had hoped to, so it was a good trip.  It was nice to get back and see people I just saw last July, and didn't think I would see again so soon.  It would have been nice to spend a little longer, but circumstances made that difficult.

So now I'm back in Gainesville, fully ready to chill with my aunt and nanny my cousins.  Wish me luck with the humidity and the, you know, children...

Taciturn Update of Nothingness

Unexpected family business has brought me back to Minnesota for a week, then I'm headed back to Gainesville, FL, because one week wasn't enough.

Tucson was Tucson.  It's still not my favorite city, but I like it more than I did before.  I wish I had gotten more of a chance to check out the city and scene, but maybe next time.  I spent the majority of my time split between hanging out in the retirement park with my grandparents, and relaxing at my cousin's house out in the desert outside the city.  The stars were out in full force there.

It was around 100F every day, so outdoor time was limited to early morning walks and pool time.  Toward the end, my aunt and uncle came down from their place in Bullhead City.  The plan was to return to their place with them, but the aforementioned family business threw a monkeywrench in that plan.  It's okay, I'm going to try to get back there in the winter when it's cooler, since it's in the Mojave desert and all...

I went out!

To celebrate my road-iversary, I went downtown to the Solar Culture Gallery, to check out the Joe Lally (who is a tiny little man!) show. I took the bus (sadly, Tucson is no Austin), so I got there a bit early, but it was okay, because the venue is also an art gallery. I spent a bunch of time checking out the paintings and listening to the trains go by the back door while I waited and waited for other people to trickle in. Not only was it Cinco de Mayo, but it was apparently also finals week, and they were competing with another show.

The audience ended up being me and a dozen or so other music dorks. The opening guy had to cancel, so Joe and crew played two sets, which was fine by me. Their style was... I dunno... I suck at describing music... Jazz, punk and blues influenced mellowish trippy hard rock? In the same basic vein as Fugazi, but differently interesting. If anyone knows some kind of music geek terminology to describe this, please share, because I always just want to sum up this type of music as "adult punk." It has the same sensibility as punk, but with a greater range of style and talent. Joe Lally was solid on bass, and although I don't feel he's the strongest vocalist, I was digging the lyrics. The drummer, Ricardo Lagomasino, was heavily jazz influenced, and proved that it's not the size of the kit, but how you use it. He had his eyes closed for most of the time, and when they were open he was kinda staring blankly into space. I wondered where he went, but it must have been somewhere good. The guitarist, Elisa Abela, was tight, ranging from bluesy to controlled noise with plenty of stops in between. The crowd was subdued and respectful. I wished, and thought others were with me on this, that we could have been more people for them. We stood up close and clapped a lot, but it still felt kinda sad. Maybe it was just my mood and extreme lack of energy, due to me being on the retiree schedule, and the show starting after my bedtime. Also, this is an art gallery, not a bar. A beer or two might have upped my energy levels a tidge.

Between sets I chatted with Elisa about tattoos and travel, and she told me about some women she had met on the Isle of Lesbos. She also said it didn't bother them that it was such a small crowd, that they just loved to play. It showed.

Sorry about the super detailed show review. After five or six days as a retiree, all of the stimulation kinda got to me...

365 days of loafing like a bum

Yup.  Today is my one year road-iversary.

I wanted to write something all contemplative and meaningful to mark the occasion, but I got nothing.  I've just been chillin' here in Tucson with my grandparents, enjoying two more members of my family with whom I have not spent enough time.  It's interesting how this trip started out with a desire to travel and see the parts of the country that I had never seen, and talk to people from all over, but every time I stopped at a relative's house, it became more about that.  When people ask me what the best thing has been about this trip, sometimes I say something about having time alone to think and discovering my mental and physical limits, but I always end up talking about how great it has been to have extended one on one time with family members.  In families as scattered as both sides of mine are, it can be difficult enough just to get at least half of us together for a family reunion, and when that happens, most of the focus is on large group activities, so there's not a lot of time to have real conversations with people.  I don't know how everyone else feels, but I feel like I grew up so far away from my family, and then spent so much time depressed and lazy, not even trying to form relationships with them, that in a group setting I feel like a bit of an outsider.  This year has been good for my soul in that it has brought me a lot closer to people I probably should never have felt so far from.  It is only natural that even though I am burnt out on the other aspects of travel, I still have a list of people I want to spend time with.  And cook for.

I'm excited about the coming months.

Oh, Biden!

What will he say next?

I woke up this morning and checked the headlines on MSN before packing up and heading to the airport for my trip to Tucson. The first headline I saw was about Joe Biden saying he recommends avoiding all crowded places like planes and buses. Sadly, avoiding crowded areas won't help him, since he is already infected with a terminal case of foot-in-mouth disease. Within an hour or two, his office was already backpedaling, trying to soften his words and placate the already flagging travel industry.

That guy. I'm going to risk it and fly anyway.

People aren't kidding about Austin

This town is great! It has moved up to the top of my list of places I would live if Seattle was no longer an option. The public transit is pretty comprehensive, and bus passes are only $18 a month!

After a few mellow days hanging with my friend's mom in San Marcos, during which time we ate, drank, chatted, drove over to Devil's Backbone, saw glassblowers make a lampshade, and I got my hair cut and colored, I headed in to Austin to meet my friend.

We kicked off a really great trip by going to see The Kills. The show was fantastic, and I don't think it was just the secondhand smoke talking. The crowd had incredible energy, even showing much love to the opening band, The Magic Wands, which was a couple originally from Nashville whose smooth sexy style made some of the songs seem a bit like foreplay. I doubt anyone in the audience had heard of them, but they were totally into the show. My friend happened to know them (small world!), so we got in for free, but the show was good enough that it would have been worth the money to pay for it. We weren't so into the second band, The Horrors, which was some tragic 80s sounding stuff, but they were good at what they did. It seemed like all of the bands were really feeding into the crowd's energy and responding in kind.

The next night we did a bit of random barhopping, to take in the Saturday night in downtown Austin scene. There was a ridiculous amount of blatant public drunkenness, as well as a huge police presence, but the police were just standing around watching out for violence and leaving the drunks alone, so that was cool. Most of the music venues here have outdoor stages, since the weather is generally so nice, although the actual stage and at least a small area in front of it is always covered, which came in handy during the frequent storms and showers that were happening for most of the week.

Sunday night we saw a local band from San Marcos, Zlam Dunk, six college boys with a ton of energy, decent talent, some creative songwriting, and just the right amount of cowbell. Afterwards we hung out with some friends of friends who worked at the club, which was pretty chill, since most of the bar patrons left after the music ended.

Monday was stormy and we were partied out, so we stayed in and discovered the best public access show ever, Cookin' Good, starring the Cola sisters, Arcie and Shasta. This show should be on real TV, and these girls should get big money for their awesomeness. Seriously. We were just channel surfing, and paused a bit on this show that looked like a white trash cooking show, wondering what it was. When we heard the stuff coming out of their mouths, our jaws dropped, and we were sold. If you like the TV I like (and you know who you are!), check it out.

Tuesday I dropped off my bike and gear at a bike shop to be shipped home, and that night we checked out more local music at a different venue, but none of it was really worth writing home about. It was fun, though, and the last band, Snatch Racket, was loud, fast, and funny, which always makes for a decent show.

There is a really yummy Ethiopian restaurant (Aster's) right next to the hotel, and they have a lunch buffet. We got addicted and ended up eating there three times, so if you're ever in Austin, that is the place I can recommend the most. We enjoyed the street vendors downtown, too, and I heartily recommend "The Cuban" with slaw, from Beelzebun's. But only if you are a really really bad vegetarian, like me...

Tomorrow I'm headed for Tucson, to visit my Grandparents and some cousins for an undefined length of time, before I move on to an unspecified location.

It's the end of this trip as we know it

And I feel fine.

I was never really excited about returning to my bike, but I did it anyway, because I thought maybe once I was back on the road, I would dig it again, and I wanted to get into and out of Arizona before it got too hot. There was a brief period of excitement, but it didn't last long, and the dog bite killed any hope I had of regaining my love of biking. I became increasing paranoid and negative-- even getting out of Louisiana didn't help enough. The only thing that gave me any happiness was looking forward to meeting my friend in Austin, and that day just couldn't come fast enough. Over the last few days, I had reached the decision that I would probably ship my bike home from Austin, and if that proved to be too expensive, I would sell the blasted contraption. Yup, that's how much I hate my precious Surly LHT right now.

Today, after another hilly, windy ride, I reached a really nice clean trailer park in La Grange, TX. I set up my tent, had a lovely shower, then returned to my tent to fetch my laundry. The tent zipper exploded. I tried in vain to put it back together. I ended up taping the thing shut-- no easy task. There is a lot of tension in that system, and stuff doesn't stick to mosquito netting so well. I noticed that my friend's mom, who lives not too far away in San Marcos, had called, so I returned her call in a sorry state. We laughed that my equipment had failed right around the same time as my fortitude, and she offered to come pick me up in the next day or two. Sweet! I love moms...

So anywho, the biking portion of this trip is done, and the blogging will be fairly infrequent from now on, since I don't have much to say to the public when I'm just hanging with my family and friends. I won't subject you to any more Trivial Pursuit reports. My flickr will probably get more action than this blog. I'm still planning to travel for a few more months, but at this point am primarily interested in spending time with my peeps, not seeing the sites. If anyone would like to petition me to come to their town, or meet them somewhere random, have at it, I'm footloose and fancy free. Have credit card, will travel.

Ho hum.

More riding, more sun, more hills, more wind. I didn't meet any other cyclists today, but when I stopped at the store in Independence, they gave me a book to sign, and the last ten people I met were in there. I guess we all get hungry going through those hills.

I'm camped at a Corps of Engineers campground on Somerville Lake just north of Gay Hill, Texas. Yup, Gay Hill (tee hee!) I'll never grow up. I was excited to check the place out, because my past experience with these places has been that they are nice and/or super cheap. This place is meh, and priced a little high for what I'm getting, in my opinion. And the water tastes funky. But I've already paid for two days, so I'll attempt to quit whining.

I am titleless today

Today started out lame: I packed up my soggy dew-moistened tent and rode off into the wind. Sigh. At least it was sunny. I chatted with six other cyclists today, all headed east. I envied them, but they all claimed to always have a headwind, too, so I guess things are tough all over. Other cyclists always ask how your trip is going, and I found myself today complaining to complete strangers. This is normally something I avoid, but that's what was on my mind, and I've discovered my conversations are much more interesting (to me anyway) and constructive if I just start talking about whatever I'm thinking rather than bothering with social niceties. I can see why people get into that whole radical honesty thing.

The third cyclist I met was this wacky kid (http://twitter.com/xcryanpfeiffer) from Chicago who is riding for Lance Armstrong's cancer charity. (livestrong.org/grassroots2009/xctour) We got to babbling away, for I don't even know how long-- at least an hour-- beside the road until three other kids showed up. There we were, all five of us standing over our bikes with our assorted Ortlieb panniers (every single one), chatting away on the roadside. That was a nice break. After that my route turned a bit so that I actually had some tailwind, and I rode into Navasota, which has grocery stores and a park just outside of town where you can camp for free. It even has a shower. Nothing fancy, but it's better than that pit I stayed at in Louisiana... So my day ended much better than it started.

Sorry, I'm too lazy to make my links work today, so you'll have to copy and paste if you're interested. And while I'm linking to unselfish touring cyclists I have met, some guys from Toronto are riding for this charity: http://athletesforafrica.com/

There are people more obnoxious than rednecks?!

The overflow campground mostly cleared out yesterday, and around the time I was crawling into my sleeping bag last night, there was just the one most obnoxious group of rednecks remaining, who had proven themselves to be not so bad. Then the Mexicans pulled in. They set up camp and blasted their own brand of obnoxious, terrible music until-- I'm not exaggerating-- dawn. The rednecks, who seemed pretty feisty when surrounded by other rednecks, were uncharacteristically silent on this one. They actually packed up and left around 4:30AM.

Then the rain came, and the storm. It was so bad some rain snuck into my tent, and several regions were flooded. Actually, pretty much the entire field I was in was flooded. I stayed afloat on my thermarest life raft until it stopped, and the sun came out, and the birds started talking. By this time, I had the whole place to myself, and was able to empty my tent and dry out a bit, as well as get some much-needed sun power to my phone. This place is really pleasant when not overrun by noisy litterbugs...

Excuses, excuses...

The rednecks quieted down shortly after ten last night, so I managed to sleep pretty well, but on waking, was still not feeling so hot. I figured since I really have nowhere to be, it's cheap here, I have a bit of cell reception, and it might be a challenge to find another campsite during Easter weekend, I may as well sit tight. Tomorrow is supposed to be stormy, so I'll probably just sit that one out, too.

I'm finding myself in that weird place of zero urgency again. The only real reason to ever leave this spot is the lack of grocery stores...

My redneck neighbors are having some sort of obnoxiousness contest

They are all going to win.

Riding went fine today. I met several other cyclists headed in the opposite direction, so I warned them about the pit bull specifically, and about Louisiana in general. They are all riding much faster than me, though, so they'll be in and out in no time.

Toward the afternoon I started to feel lousy, and was entertaining thoughts of taking another day off, since I have some time to kill anyway, but now I'm not so sure. I was headed for a campground in the Sam Houston national forest, but then I realized it was Easter weekend and everyone would be there. I stopped at the ranger station to see if it was full up, and the nice lady there told me I could stay in the overflow camping area, which was free, and I would just have to pay a five dollar day use fee for the facilities, which were very close. That sounded like just the price I wanted to pay, so I went for it. It turns out the showers are a bit further away than I was led to believe, (I call it the journey of a thousand steps) and the overflow area contains many people who seem lame. And "redneck" is what they were shouting about themselves, not just something I chose to label them, so I'm not being snooty. Anyway, I'll have to see how annoyed I am when I get up in the morning... Country music never sounds worse than when it's blasting from someone's crappy car speakers.

Yawn. Stretch.

It was time for a rest day and this place is cheap and has laundry facilities and a decently stocked little store, so I stayed put, and pretty much did nothing all day, except that load of laundry.

I smell so clean!

The wind was still pretty strong today, but I think it's supposed to be better tomorrow, when I'll start inching along toward Austin. I've arranged to meet a friend there, but that doesn't happen until the 23rd, and it really won't take me that long to get there, so I plan to take a lot of days off and explore the pretty wooded part of east Texas.

I might as well continue to review campgrounds, because I don't see enough of that on the internets. Other cyclists tend to talk mostly about the riding, unless the campground is exceptional in some way. This one is not. I am at Browder's Marina and Campground on Lake Livingston Reservoir. It has the necessities, like toilet paper and showers, but the facilities in general are not well kept up, and the shower was kinda luke. It's cheap, and the employees are friendly. Many of the tenants seem to be long term RVers, so they are a quiet, friendly bunch. I was stretching on the grass in a position where I look all crumpled up, and one of them drove his golf cart over to ask if I was ok. Cute!

I really *am* out west again!

I spent most of the day on decent roads. There were a few miles of exceptions, but the bad roads in Texas are still better than most of the roads in... Ahem... Other places. The wind was only slightly less awful than yesterday, but I stuck to my guns and made it to my destination. Once, when I stopped for a roadside snack, someone stopped to ask if I was okay. When I got to the campground, it wasn't the nicest place ever, but I got the half-price cyclist rate. It's been so long...

I'm still in the puppy love phase, for sure. I really missed riding in the west, and to have this sudden transition from deep backwoods rural south to something that really does feel like it wants to be Montana (thanks, Steinbeck) is just glorious.

Also, most dogowners here have fences.

Texas = smooth roads

Many with actual shoulders! I feel like I'm back out west. I'm so happy! This morning I returned the Uhaul truck less than a mile from my route, then hit the road.

But the wind! Yeesh! Will it ever be beneficial? Today was a struggle, and I knew there was no chance of making it to the far away campground that I harbored vague fantasies of reaching. I was planning to push on for a few more miles, but had been on the lookout for stealth camping for most of the day. When I saw a dirt road heading into the woods, with a sign that said "Hardin County Park" and commemorated the eight mile logging road through the Big Thicket, I decided that meant it was public property and I could camp here. I found a spot off a 4x4 trail off the dirt road that is hidden from the casual authority driving through, but quite visible from the 4x4 trail, so I don't think I'll get shot by hunters. But if I'm never heard from again, start looking here: N 30°24.368' W 094°33.629'

I don't really have any cell service out here, just barely enough to slowly, painfully post this. Not enough to look up what kind of wildlife is in the area... But I'll tie my food up and everything will be crescent fresh.

Dear Louisiana,

When we first met everything seemed so right-- you were so attractive, and a great cook. But over time, I began to see your uglier side. I would make excuses: oh, you're just having a bad day, or I shouldn't have done that thing to upset you like that. But as I was lying awake in bed last night-- yes, you managed to wake me up again, for the third night in a row-- listening to the howling tent-shaking wind, I thought about us. I mean, really thought. I considered my options: I could either spend another night at the gross campground that I hated, or I could struggle all the next day against the very strong wind, trying to go the fifty miles I needed to go to get to the next camping place, but likely failing and having to stay in a hotel. Or possibly even further injuring myself. Both of these options were so unpalatable that serious consideration of either one made my stomach turn and I wanted to cry.

We couldn't go on like this, Louis! What I'm trying to say is that it's better for both of us if I just leave, as quickly as possible. I packed up my things this morning and backtracked sixteen miles to rent a fourteen foot U-haul truck to take me away from you, straight into the open arms of Texas, who may not be perfect, but hopefully will treat me better than you did.

Don't try to find me, or I will take out a restraining order.

Goodbye,
Cheri

I came up with this plan around 3AM, all frustrated and sleep deprived. It wasn't cheap, but I estimate I would have spent about two thirds as much on food and lodging riding all of the miles I drove through instead, and I'm quite happy about it, so it was money well spent. The wind was so crazy strong, it was difficult to drive. Riding would have been really unpleasant. I got to drive on the twenty mile bridge across a big swamp, which I would have skirted on my bike. Halfway across the bridge I stopped at a lovely rest stop and called my dad to tell him where I was, since we had just been discussing Louisiana the day before. He told me I was in the only nice rest stop in the whole state. I will have to take his world for it, since I never saw any other rest stops. He also joked that I was escaping from prison. It kind of felt that way. Once in Texas I stopped to camp at a campground run by an adorable old couple, and the woman knocked a couple bucks off the price since I got in so late in the evening-- around seven. I don't think that has ever happened before. I'm sure the euphoria will pass, but tonight I'm stoked to be in Texas.

I'm medicated and healing

More from yesterday-- Cletus, who is actually named Billy, and some of his friends were out here yesterday fixing something. They were drunk. When it was fixed, Billy came over to talk to me about it, because that ole boy wants a reason to talk to all of this. Just then, the thirteen-year-old boy member of my camp neighbor family yelled that there was a big snake. Billy's bud took off running, shovel in one hand and giant can of Busch beer in the other. He took quite a few poorly aimed whacks at the snake. It got angry and curled up, shaking its rattler, according to Billy's bud. I was not close enough at this point to see or hear any rattling. He finally hit it enough to damage it, then attempted to remove its head with a shovel, which was unsuccessful, but he claimed it was done on purpose because he wanted to keep it intact. We all looked at it for a while, and there was some debate about what type of snake it was. They eventually decided it was a rattlesnake because it had a few rattles, but later got back to us that it was a kingsnake. I looked it up. It was a speckled kingsnake. Anyway, Billy's bud wanted to keep the thing, so he got a grocery bag out of the car and picked it up by the tail. Blood was dripping out, the snake was long, and he was beery, so he had a bit of difficulty getting the head in the bag. By this point, the camp neighbor and I were giggling and making quiet jokes about bringing home some groceries. Billy's bud had some sort of plan that involved scaring his neighbors back at the trailer park, or perhaps making boots, and Billy was telling him that if he brought that thing anywhere near his wife, she would shoot him with her pistol.

Those guys are weird to hang around, but they are capable of putting on quite a show.

I forgot to mention that they measured the distance between the two deepest puncture wounds (the canines) at the hospital yesterday, and it was five centimeters, so if anyone needed a bit of size perspective on that picture, there you go.

Today the dogowners came back to drive me a long ways to a pharmacy that is open on Sunday, so I could get my antibiotics. Those twenty pills were $75, after tax. Yikes. It was so nice just to look at the total, shrug, and look at someone else. They definitely had sticker shock.

This evening, just as I finished eating dinner, Billy drove up and offered me a big bowl of seafood gumbo and some crackers for dinner. I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad I missed out on that... I'm better off, though, because dinner was a heavy can of beans I didn't want to carry, and I was positive there were no roofies in it. He brought his bud with him, and the whole time they were here, the ole boy was yammering away on his cell phone about something he hit with his car last night. I sure hope it was a critter of some sort.

Thank you to all of my friends out there who worry about my safety, share my pain, and celebrate my triumphs. This trip could have easily been a very lonely experience, but instead I'm making new friends all over the country, and maintaining the friends I have back home. I always know there's someone out there to talk to, that someone knows someone who is close enough to help me out if I need it, and that people are wishing and praying for my safety. I want to give a special shout out to Susan, who early on really influenced this facet of my trip. The world needs more like you, lady!

Doctoring's done

Can't say as much about my civic duty, though...

On the advice of... Oh, just about everyone I know, I called the dogowners and made them take me to the hospital. They begged and pleaded with me to say it was a stray dog and not get their precious taken away from them. I laid out my moral dilemma and told them I was a terrible liar, but went along with it because they were paying and they promised to keep Cujo chained up. The doctors gave me a scrip for antibiotics, then called around to find rabies shots and told me to go down to Baton Rouge tonight and begin the ten day, six shot course. The dog is healthy, and I'm not willing to deal with all of that, especially since the last known case of rabies in Louisiana was in 1979, and was from a squirrel. I like those odds! The doctor told me to take it easy tomorrow, so I'm taking one more day off, which is fine, since it may storm tomorrow anyway, and there's a headwind.

I came back to the camp, and my new camp neighbors are nice, and we're hanging around a fire. They have a dog, which freaked me out a little at first, but we made friends and I am on the road to recovery. I have a good story about Cletus and a rattlesnake, but I guess I'll save that for tomorrow.

But at least my tattoo still looks good...

***SAFETY ALERT! For anyone cycling the Southern Tier through eastern Louisiana: a bit east of the junction of 440 and 1061, you may be chased by two pitbulls, a smaller white one and a larger brown one. These are not dogs who want you to leave their territory. They want you off your bike. STOP. GET OFF THE BIKE.***

I'm never sure what to do in these situations. Usually, the dog just wants me to leave, so I keep riding. This dog, the larger brown one, did not like that. He bit my rear pannier. Twice. There are two lovely sets of puncture marks in my formerly waterproof saddlebag. Then he bit my leg. I stopped, reaching for my weapon, but once I stopped, so did he. His owner was home, so she brought me inside for peroxide and bandages. When I rinsed the wound, I saw chunks of flesh on my leg, and managed not to hurl. She insisted that he was such a nice sweet good dog, who just went crazy around bikes. And motorcycles. And four wheelers. And lawnmowers... She insisted that he had had all of his shots. She said that he had only bitten one other person-- just a nip, really-- but he had been wearing jeans. (So he was lucky.) She gave me her number, and I rode on, just wanting to get to the campground and relax and take tomorrow off.

A few miles later, it became apparent the bandage wasn't cutting it, so I rigged something up with a maxipad and athletic tape. This is when I noticed the chunks of flesh on my pants, and the holes.

I got to the campground, which was just reopening after being flooded. The owner was there to attempt to restart the pump and get the water running. He hadn't mentioned this when I called to be sure he was open...

I called Anna crying, and she made me laugh by telling me about the April Fool's snow in Seattle. Then the owner and his good ole maintenance man, who will heretofore be referred to as Cletus, came to tell me the water was on. I played the pity card, and Cletus gave me a ride to the nearby store to pick up some food for my day off. It's less than a mile away, but I'm done riding for now, especially on this busy street where no one slows down, and there is no shoulder. Most of the roads in LA have been decent, and the drivers largely courteous, but this one is evil. (38 from Kentwood to Chipola, if anyone cares.) Anywho, Cletus was real nice and I picked up some delicious crawdad pies and whatnot. I considered asking him why people choose to live in godforsaken swamps that flood every year, but I only understand about half the words he says, and there are a couple of bottles of booze on the rider's side floor of his car, and I didn't want to be rude. He also offered to drive me to the hospital if I needed it.

So here I am, at a newly unflooded campground, with gross bathrooms (freshly mopped by Cletus, cuz of the flood and all) that would have been gross even without the flooding, but there's toilet paper and one of the most striking sunsets I have ever seen. The campground, outside the bathroom, is lovely, and I have it to myself, although apparently another coupla touring cyclists will be in later, headed the other direction. I will be sure to warn them about Cujo.

On the bright side: My leg still functions, it's doubtful I have rabies, and my precious tattoo is untouched. And I've stopped bleeding. And flesh washes out of pants.

But it's more electrical tape for the old pannier. I'm sure glad I bought them in black.

Louisiana, baby!

I have to enjoy this feeling of cruising through the states quickly, before I hit Texas.

I fully ignored the warnings about "possible" severe storms that "may" produce large hailstones, and got a nice early start. It was quite a lovely day, until the storm clouds gathered while I was navigating through Bogalusa, LA. I considered taking shelter at one of the many churches I passed, or maybe the library, but I opted for getting as far away from that armpit as possible before the giant hail hit. That place gave me the heebie jeebies. Everyone was looking at my bike and gear like it was a shrimp po'boy, and they were starving.

I managed to get a few miles out of town before it started raining. It started gently, and the thunder and lightning seemed to be moving away from me, so for a while I entertained the fantasy that I was skirting the storm. Then it started pouring for reals, right about the same time that I saw an open garage/storage shed thing right by the road that had just enough room for me to pull my bike in and stop for lunch. There was no giant hail, nor any tornadoes that I saw, despite the tornado watch, and the rain passed shortly. The sun came back, and I got back out there.

I was moving through some kind of camping dead zone, headed for Franklinton. The sole hotel in town was a little more than I wanted to pay, so I kept an eye out for stealth camping, but that didn't pan out. Following the lead of someone from crazyguyonabike.com, I called the Franklinton sheriff's office to inquire about camping, because that guy had been allowed to set up his tent in a fenced area behind the police station. Either he is more charismatic than I, or he just got lucky with who he spoke to, but when I tried it, the guy just suggested I go to a campground about ten miles further than I wanted to go, a few miles off my route, that "might" be open. Well, at least I tried. I had enough daylight to get there, but wasn't sure I had the fortitude. I decided to call them for info, since a lot of campgrounds are flooded right now, and a place with "bayou" in the name didn't seem too promising. I didn't reach an actual human, but their machine only mentioned RV sites, so I gave up and went to the hotel. It's a decent place. I got excited when I realized it was Thursday, and I could watch must see TV, but sadly, it has been taken over by ER, so it's a Comedy Central kind of night.

I managed to save a few bucks picking up supplies at the Dollar General and the scavenger grocery store or whatever it's called that are right by the hotel, so I can feel a little better about the money I spent.

Maybe I should write a guide to cheap camping

I'm sure that's never been done before. Maybe I should buy a guide to cheap camping.

I forgot to mention it earlier, but the historic section of Mobile, AL is really beautiful. The streets are lined with these majestic old trees that I didn't have the opportunity to photograph, but I'm sure that's been done to death. There are also some pretty buildings downtown.

I got a late start today and didn't go too far because I'm working with campsite availability. The ride was uneventful-- I didn't run over a single one of the dogs who chased me. I am staying tonight at the lovely Haas-Cienda Ranch in Poplarville, MS. It's a really peaceful place run by a very sweet family who live here all year around. I suspect it's about to get less peaceful, as the waterslide opens Friday, and the summer season will get into full swing. Their tent camping rates are quite nice, and there is toilet paper in the bathroom. It seems like it's way out in the country, but is actually just on the outskirts of a decent sized town, so I'm close to all of the amenities like grocery stores and cell phone reception. If you come through here looking to camp, I would recommend it, but be warned: they don't take credit cards.

I passed by my first Southern Tier touring cyclist today. He started in Houston, and is headed for Mobile, where he will meet up with some other people and ride up the Underground Railroad route. It seems like it would be a nice trip.

There's no cozier sound...

Than rain falling on your tent-- as long as your tent isn't leaking.

It rained for most of the day, and I truly enjoyed it from my snug little nest. The thunder was vociferous and non-threatening. The mugginess was muggy. I spent much of the day reading from John Steinbeck's travelogue "Travels with Charley in Search of America," which my stepmom gave me, and I have been attempting to read for the last three months or so. It's not that large of a book, and I should have been through it quite quickly, but as a general rule, I am not a travelogue reader, so despite his apt descriptions and skill with metaphor, it hadn't really gripped me yet. Today, it is finally working for me. I think the laziness of a day off on the road lends itself well to his writing style. It's odd, but his general attitude makes reading the book feel a bit like I am talking to a more literary version of myself.

I found my new favorite sentence: "Montana seems to me to be what a small boy would think Texas is like from hearing Texans."

What's that smoky, burny smell?

Is that an ash in my food?

Last night the toilet paper in the crusty ladies room ran out after the office closed, and it hadn't been replaced by the time I left. I vented my spleen at the poor guy working the desk, which didn't get me any money back, but at least my complaint was heard. And probably ignored.

I rode off into another beautiful sunny windy day, which was fortunately a crosswind most of the day. Not the tailwind I had hoped for, but better than a headwind. Around mid-afternoon I reached the lovely Airey Lake Camp, which is free of charge, courtesy of the USFS. Thank you! It's nice to see my tax dollars come back to me. I have realized that, with a few outliers, my love of a campsite is inversely proportional to the price I pay to stay in it. Anywho, this place has everything I need: a dry little flat-topped hill on which to set my tent without fear of flooding, a pump with nice clean water, and a sturdy little brick toilethouse where I may end up weathering tomorrow's storms. The prediction is not good, so I figured I may as well hole up in the free campground and take a day off. No reason to push myself too hard too soon (in yucky weather!), since I'm kinda starting off cold again.

I got here early enough in the day to clean some stuff and make a nice dinner. For a little while I was smelling smoke, but a call to the fire people informed me that there is a prescribed burn a ways downwind of me, so everything is cool. The call also informed me that my meager cell reception here may be just barely good enough for slow internet, but talking is pretty much right out.

I... love it?

On Saturday my uthah muthah had a book signing in Mobile, AL, so I hitched a ride in order to avoid a week of navigating Alabama. I've decided I'm no longer in any mood for route planning; I just want to ride. I've purchased the Adventure Cycling Southern Tier maps-- yes, the ones I poo-pooed back in Montana, where there was only one road and no navigation required-- and the route happens to run right through Mobile. Sadly, I didn't get a chance to meet Chris's brother in Birmingham or Beth's mom in the panhandle, but happily, I didn't have to ride my bike anywhere near Birmingham.

We spent the night in a hotel in Mobile (a little send off gift to myself), and this morning I took off riding west. It was a beautiful sunny day, with not a cloud in the sky, which is a relief after the stormy weather that has been happening. The only fly in my ointment was the brutal headwind. Welcome back to the road, Cheri. A kindly gentleman stopped me just before I reached the Mississippi border to warn me that the road was flooded ahead with water about a foot deep. After consulting a map, I decided that fording a river four times barefoot carrying everything I owned would be easier than a detour, so I went on. Besides, every other vehicle that passed was a pickup, and people love a damsel in distress, so I figured I wouldn't get wet.

When I reached the flooded spot, it was every bit as bad as the man had said. I assessed the situation, then began removing my shoes and socks. Just then, a kindly couple in a big shiny pickup stopped and offered me a ride. Yay!

Everyone else I talked to all day was very friendly, and when I stopped to phone a friend, I found myself babbling about how great it was to be on the road again, and how most people are inherently good, and how you get back what you put out there, and how people are so nice to touring cyclists, and how the karmic gratification when I'm on the road is pretty much instantaneous.

In my final mile of the day, a chihuahua and a... I dunno, let's say a terrier chased me. I had my eye on the chihuahua, and I felt my back tire run over something. It wasn't enough of a bump to be the whole dog, so it must have been his foot or something. He stopped chasing me. Maybe that'll teach him. This time, I didn't even stop. It's so much easier when you don't actually see their head go under you tire.

Finally, I reached the campground that had a sign out front that said "RVs and primitive camping." The guy had the nerve to charge me an arm and a leg, and explained that all of the sites were the same, with power hook-ups and whatnot, so it was all the same price. I asked about the primitive camping and he just shook his head. I suspect he saw a rich cycling yankee coming and decided to screw me. I didn't have any other option, as everything is far too flooded to even consider stealth camping, and I was too tired of fighting the headwind to ride further. This place is such a friggin' pit. It is full of trashy trailer people who largely seem to be living here on a near permanent basis. The bathroom is a dank hole, and the cleaner shower stall was in that condition because it was missing a door lock. The water was hot, but somehow... Slimy? I couldn't seem to rinse off the soap well enough. During my entire shower I was treated to the sounds of some harpy yelling at her worthless brats. I couldn't even bring myself to sit outside of my tent for long enough to make a decent dinner, so it was lunch all over again. I would recommend against a visit to the Bluff River Campground in Vancleave, MS. The day didn't exactly end well, and I'm a bit grumpy right now.

But I'm still glad to be back on the road. And tomorrow I should have a tailwind.

Blowing my own horn

I'm back in Huntsville, where phones and internets work. I don't have much else to say, so I'm just going to give you this: Yann Black updated his website, and I made the cut!

And some people love pain.

Airports are my fave.

After a fun, relaxing week in Gainesville, I am now headed back to Huntsville, just as the weather is turning in northern Florida. Heck yeah! Upon my return, I will be headed out to the farm for a couple of days, and it is a bit remote, so I will be out of contact until some time on Wednesday.

Later...

What is better than classic Trivial Pursuit?

The Nineties edition of Trivial Pursuit.

We played the crap out of that game.

We have also done a bunch of lounging around, talking and eating. We went for a swim in the cold cold pool, and found some craigslist furniture for my aunt. Today we went out to St. Augustine, oldest city in America, intending to go to the beach, but it was cold and windy. We settled for viewing the fort and the town, then headed back to Gainesville, where it is warmer than on the coast right now.

I wish I was staying longer, but I'm out on Monday.

Welcome to Florida...

After a terrific weekend in Nashville, I flew down to Florida to visit my aunt and cousins. The weather is fantastic here. On Tuesday we hung out at the beach a little, and played in the clear water on the pretty, clean-looking, soft sand. In the evening, we sat outside in the mild night air, listening to the chirping of the crickets and the bellowing of the alligators.

That's right.

Bellowing of the alligators.

If you are ever in gator country, and hear a low growling sound, it is most likely an alligator defining his territory, so he probably won't bother you if you don't go any closer to him. Probably.

Nashville has some sort of hold on me

I spent a relaxing week in Huntsville, hanging out and going to the Space and Rocket Museum. It was all right, if you like that sort of thing, but it had this big open warehousy kind of feel that bugged me, because there was no real route through the place, so I felt like I was wandering back and forth, trying not to miss anything, and nitpicking the grammar and spelling on the signs. Before we left, we rode on the Mars Rover simulator (I won't give away what is actually located on Mars) and the Spaceshot, which sent us straight up in the air and then dropped, simulating weightlessness for a few milliseconds. Good times! Don't miss those two things if you ever go to the museum.

I was planning on returning to the road, I swear, but a combination of bad weather, last minute plan changes, and the presence of my new favorite band, DD/MM/YYYY, in Nashville on Saturday night caused me to once again board a Greyhound bus and head back up there for the weekend. Fortunately, it was a short, daytime ride, so I wasn't too cranky when I arrived.

DD/MM/YYYY's set was a little wacky because they were on a very small stage, and there are five guys in the band, who switch instruments, so things looked a bit tight. This led to antics that included singing while hanging upside down over a railing beside the stage, and an (intentional) fall from the stage at the end of the show. The first time they switched places, the girl next to me said "musical chairs!" Heh. Nice.

The show was the most random line-up I have ever seen. The first band was some Lillith Fair sounding girly rock. Then DD/MM/YYYY did their ridiculously talented thing, followed by a basic rock'n'roll kind of band that did a few covers of stuff like The Cars. There was a fourth act who cancelled at the last minute, who was apparently kinda bluesy, according to the cranky people who asked for their money back. The good thing about this line-up was that it gave us time to hang with some of the DD/MM/YYYY guys after their sweet sweet set, since we weren't missing anything inside the club. We bought them beers and thanked them profusely, and they gave us t-shirts.

Nashville report

I'm pretty sure Greyhound's practices violate the terms of the Geneva Conventions. I knew the overnight bus wouldn't be a hoot, but I thought if I picked the bus route with no transfers, it wouldn't be too bad. How wrong I was. Every couple of hours, when we stopped in a major city, they MADE everyone get off the bus for about an hour, and sit inside the uncomfortable, well-lit station while they cleaned the bus. Seriously, how clean does this thing have to be? I don't need to pee or smoke! Can't I sit out here in the dark? Blurg. And the Louisville station, though it had larger, cleaner bathrooms than the Indianapolis station, had barely any seating. What's that all about?

After a nap, some tea with the woman who works at Music City Hostel, and a shower, I felt much better. The place has a homey feel, like you're just hanging out in someone's dining room or living room, chatting with whoever happens by. I sat outside in the sun for a while, and one of the guests played his guitar and sang. In the evening, I got tired of hanging around, and left way too early for the show I wanted to see, so I had to kill some time and beers in a random sports bar. Meh. When I finally went to the show, I was the ONLY person there. It turns out the show I had planned to see was cancelled, and there was some lame free show happening that no one went to. Darn. I tried to chat up the oddball proprietor, but he made it a chore, so I spent a while outside chatting with the bouncer. Nothing else was happening in town that night drew my interest, so I ended up giving up and going back to the hostel early. I was tired, but I ended up staying up super late anyway, talking to a couple of hostel folk.

I spent all day Saturday urban hiking with another girl from the hostel. We went to the Frist Center for Visual Arts, where we saw a really fantastic collection of oil paintings of people. The styles were all over the place, so it was quite intriguing. After that we wandered around the city looking at apartments, because my companion is in the process of moving to the city, and I had nothing better to do than wander around seeing different neighborhoods and getting a bit of a sunburn. After a shower and food, we went to the same place I had attempted to go the night before, but this time the scheduled show was actually happening. The nice bouncer let us in for free, and we ended up passing much of the night chatting with him and whoever else passed through the door. The music was okay, but not really holding my interest like the people show that was happening in the outside smoking area. It was a really varied crowd, from hippies to everyday normal guys to frat guys to tattooed freaks to some guy in super tight clothes and a fantastic gold jacket. It was an 18+ show, so there were all kinds of shenanigans involving underage drinking and girls passing out on the men's room floor.

The first act was a "DJ" who was just up there with a laptop, pushing buttons and dancing. It was confusing. Was he actually doing anything? He could have just popped in a CD. The other acts had multiple members and instruments, but, as previously stated, seemed more like background music for the real show that was happening all around. At least it was worth the money I paid to get in. I would have still been happy if I had paid the five dollar cover.

On Sunday, a kindly local squired me about town to see the view from Love Circle, a park on a hill that overlooks the city. The view was so good I forgot to take a picture. We checked out the Cheekwood Botanical garden and sculpture park, and saw a dragon in a park.

On Monday my stepmum and her friend (the one with all of the animals) came up to Nashville to get me and her friend's son. We had some wacky adventures involving crossing the tracks to a squatter camp, copper wiring, and Mexican food, then we headed back to Huntsville.

That ain't science! Screw this, I'm outta here.

Saturday night we attended a fun architect party. Perhaps they were discussing their craft amongst themselves, but my cousin and I managed to get ourselves into many varied and interesting non- architecture conversations.

Sunday we got food from Ethiopian Diamond. Yum! It was as good as my favorite place back home, Enat, in North Seattle.

We've basically been playing Trivial Pursuit for three weeks straight, and I've become so cranky with the quality of the "Science and Nature" questions, I started taking pictures and decided I needed a cathartic online kvetch. I was fed up with the astrology questions, and then a question about a superstition nearly caused a fit. I really got vocal when I got a question that is actually not true, though widely believed by many. I didn't photograph this one, but it claimed Thomas Crapper invented the flush toilet. It is almost forgivable, since he did actually exist, and was a plumber who improved upon the flush toilet and marketed indoor plumbing fixtures. This question is when I completely lost it. Come on! I thought that was as bad as it could get, but Trivial Pursuit managed to outdo themselves with this joke.

I am now on my way to Nashville, via overnight Greyhound bus (you gotta try everything once!) to spend a few days in a hostel taking in shows before heading back to Huntsville. Wish me luck, and if anyone has any recommendations that don't include country music, please comment!

What's that? I can't hear you!

I've gone temporarily deaf.

On Sunday we went to see "Slumdog Millionaire," which we quite enjoyed. We got home in time to see it win pretty much every Oscar.

I split the weekdays between convalescing with my about-to-be-a cold, and cooking more delicious food. Sweet red pepper soup with risotto dumplings! Olive lentil casserole! Quinoa, broccoli and cheese casserole! Barley chickpea pilaf! Mmm.

On Thursday I discovered that one of my favorite bands, Don Caballero, would be playing on Friday! What, what, what?! I would have bought a ticket even if I was bleeding out my eyes! Fortunately, the threatening cold did not fully materialize, so I was free to enjoy the show.

I could not convince my country music lovin' cousin to accompany me to the math/prog rock show, so I went alone. The place was a sausagefest-- a fresh sausagefest, it being a seventeen and up show. I kinda figured this band would draw more dudes than chicks, but dang! I managed to befriend a woman who I think may have been the only other woman who was there sans man. I believe the two of us were in the top five percent, age-wise, and sadly, she didn't make it past the third band to the real treat, Don Cab. The first band, White Devil, was tight three-piece prog rock with no vocals. The boys were quite skilled, and I enjoyed the set. The second band, Cougars, was... well... let's just say I composed the better parts of this blog entry in my head while they played. Like half of the audience went out for a smoke during their set. The very theatrical lead made a joke about it, and they handled it well. I felt a little bad for them, but not a lot bad, because they weren't that good. The third band, a five-man group out of Canada named DD/MM/YYYY (pronounced Day Month Year) friggin rocked my socks off. They were ridiculously talented and interesting, and the kids SWITCHED INSTRUMENTS several times during the set. Who does that?! At all times, they had a guitar, drums, bass, keyboards, and a front man who kinda switched off between singing, extra percussion, some keyboards, and a horn of some sort. Good times! But then... Then...

Don Cab. Kicked it hard. So awesome. The prima donna drummer is the only original member, and he knows he is the show. He wore a stripy shirt and red gym shorts, while the two other dudes wore all black and were a bit self-effacing. I felt a bit sad for them, but not too sad, since they are touring musicians who are probably making a living off of their music, so they're basically living the dream. I tried to pay attention to the guys in black, but it was next to impossible to take my eyes off of the drummer. He seemed like he might have OCD or Asperger Syndrome. You can't be normal and drum like that.

Many of the younger, skinny jeans wearing hipster kids left after DD/MM/YYYY, so the Don Cab crowd was a bit older and less interested in how pretty and trendy everyone thought they were. Someone yelled out a song request, and Don Cab said that this wasn't a democracy, and if we had paid to come in, we should just trust them. Heh.

Fortunately the show was just a single train ride away from my cousin's place. A really long train ride, but no transfers or anything, so it was all brainless. I heart the train. That is one thing Seattle is lacking. I mean, we're working on it, but...

Derby Mayhem!

For V-Day, my cousin and I were joined by a friend of hers for a chick flick ("He's Not That Into You"-- I was not that into it...) and more "Shekels and Swords." On Sunday I went to church with my cousin (well don't look so surprised, I'm capable of behaving for an hour at a time!) and then we shopped and chilled and what not.

The weekdays were a blur of five-bean chili, banana chocolate chip muffins, curried sweet potato soup, our grandma's baked beans, oatmeal peanut butter cookies, and of course, the new workout video we picked up at Target on Sunday. It is the Dancing With the Stars Latin Cardio Workout. I approve. The difficulty of the steps occupies your mind and distracts you from the sweating and burning.

On Friday night we went to see the Windy City Rollers. One of the matches was almost painful to watch, because the winning team quadrupled the losing team's score. They had really good Jammers. As it wasn't too exciting, and the Budweiser was $6.50, and there were only a few injuries, we used this time to come up with our rollernames: Andi Capper and Cher the Pain. (My cousin also suggested Turner Over, which is an extremely close second.) The other match up was much more exciting, with the teams rolling close for the entire bout. They took the lead from each other every few minutes, and had the best ending ever: during the last few minutes the song "Final Countdown" started playing, and the lagging team scored a series of dramatic points to finish as winners. It was a really fantastic finale.

Shekels and Soup

After a couple of sunny days off in Huntsville, we got back in the truck and headed north just as the weather in the eastern part of the country began to turn. We drove through some on again, off again rain that somehow managed to pour buckets every time I stepped out of the truck. Seriously, as soon as I had to pee, and had an opportunity to do so, the heavens opened, and I was soaked within seconds. Then it would literally stop raining right after I returned to the truck.

We were lucky enough to get an opportunity to stay at the Whitehaven rest stop near Paducah, KY. It is an old house that was preserved and converted into a really neat rest stop. Apparently they give free tours in the afternoon, but we couldn't stick around for that long. I couldn't even get a decent picture, first because of darkness, and then because of rain. Maybe next time...

It's interesting to see how connected the weather is out here, how the larger systems move through such large areas. When it was thirteen degrees in Chicago a couple of weeks ago, it was extra cold in the south. When it started to warm up in Florida and Alabama, it also got really nice in DC and Chicago. When it cooled down and got rainy, it happened all over. I suppose I pay more attention to the weather now than I did before, but I never really felt connected to the rest of the country in this way when living in Seattle. So much of our weather moves in from the water, and systems are blocked or changed by the mountains. It's tempting to extrapolate this disconnectedness to other areas of life.

When we got near Chicago, my dad dropped me off at a train station, and I rode a commuter train into the city, where my cousin picked me up. Before long, we fell back into our breadwinner/housewife routine, and I spent much of Friday cooking lentil soup and baking banana crumb muffins. Yum. We also played a game straight out of her childhood, a Christian children's game called "Shekels & Sword Game." One part of the game involves choosing a character from the bible, and there are fun little things that each character has to do. We discovered that the male characters are more likely to get financial rewards for their tasks than the female characters. Hmm. So if any of you ever run across this game, and decide to play it, it's best to be a male character. If you really must be a female, choose Martha.

More notes on the trucking life

You know how fires are like camping tv? Watching people park is truck stop tv. Of course, if that gets old, you can always head inside to the bar attached to the chain restaurant attached to the truck stop, and take in the cover band.

After dropping off our load in Connecticut, we headed to New York to pick up some PVC pipe bound for West Virginia. Then we went to Ohio to get a couple of trucks headed for Florida. Southern Florida. Just outside Miami. Just when I thought I might lose a coupla toes to frostbite, and my single pair of long johns had become too funky to wear, we got a reprieve! I also got my first truck stop shower while in Ohio, which, after five days, was most definitely overdue.

Dad has mentioned a few times how difficult it is to get a load out of Florida, so I crossed my fingers and hoped we would get stuck there over the weekend. Sadly, we immediately got another load, headed for Illinois (brr!), so we had to turn around and head right back out. At least I got to take off my gloves and coat for one day. We will get a chance to return to Huntsville on the way back, and I'm as yet undecided about my future plans.

Trucking is an ugly way to see the country. It's all billboards and concrete and truck stops. The rest stops are generally the nicest places I see. Thursday morning we stopped at a sunny Georgia rest stop, and I heard birds talking in the trees. I don't think I've heard any nature sounds since boarding the truck.

It's a hard knock life.

Trucking ain't easy, baby.

At first, I found myself making note of every sign I saw for a campground, and checking the terrain along the way for stealth campsites. I don't think I've been doing that much during regular driving experiences. Perhaps it's that being on the move again put me back into bike travel mode. It's starting to fade a bit now, though.

Our first stop was near Chicago, where we unloaded three vans for auction, then picked up some scaffolding that was bound for Connecticut. Since it wasn't due until Monday morning, we stayed the night at an enormous trucker heaven south of the city, and my cousin came down to meet us for a delicious truckstop dinner. Okay, delicious might be pushing it, but the hot food was hot and the salad was cold. We had a great time reminiscing and gossiping for five hours or so, then it was back out into the bone-chilling cold night to sleep in the truck. It was so cold, we left the truck running all night, partly so we wouldn't freeze, and partly because if the engine gets too cold, the truck won't start again. Dieselicious! But I was toasty in my wonderful sleeping bag.

I realized that not only have I lived in Seattle my whole life, but I have never traveled anywhere during the winter where the temperature was consistently below 20F. I really liked Chicago in the summer, but the thirteen degree weather was brutal for me. My cousin was just happy that it wasn't below zero. I'm not sure I could become accustomed to that sort of lifestyle...

We drove all day today, and although we didn't take the same route that I took on my bike, we were close to it, so about every hour or so I would point at a sign and say, "I slept in that city!" It's odd how having ridden my bike through an area, and camping or eating there, makes me feel... proprietary. It's like everywhere is my hood. Dad and I talked about this, and he said that, as a long haul trucker, he feels connected to the whole country, because he's always driving through everywhere.

Driving through Ohio was especially fun for me, because I was thinking so heavily about all of the great people I met there. So here's a shout out to all of my OH hosts: Katie, Austin and Josh, Alan and Pennie, Rona and Gary, and Danny and Danielle. And also big gratitude to all of the other kind people I encountered: Sheri, Jen and the gang at the Lazy River Campground, that woman who gave me peaches from her tree, those random cyclists who gave me cash on the bike trails in Northeastern OH, and, of course, Allan from Connecticut who I met in Ohio. And that's just the one state. So many people along the way, in every state, have been so wonderfully kind and generous. I want to believe karma exists, and you all will get what you should.

Okay, enough of the final thought stuff. I guess being on the move again has made me contemplative, but this is starting to read like my trip is over for good! Rest assured, I am just getting warmed up. Again. (In my sleeping bag.)

Time to keep on truckin'

Not much has happened here in the last five days outside of a couple bike rides, a day spent cooking indian food (I made my own paneer!) and a bunch of tv watching. There's really no reason to blog at all, except to report the possibility of things to blog about in the near future. I'm about to venture out with my dad in his big rig, to experience the life of a long-haul trucker for a non-predetermined amount of time, on a non-predetermined route. All we know is that our first stop will be Chicago. I may or may not have something interesting to say in the near future, that I may or may not want to share with the world at large, so... What was the point of this post again?

I'm still on wheels, I swear!

On Tuesday I went out to the farm, where the puppies live, and got some more pictures and videos, like a giant spaz. Eventually, this whole puppy fixation should wear off. Probably when they are bigger. I just feel a bit proprietary toward them, since I was there when we found them, and I got to puppysit early on. And didn't kill any! And I'm extra fixated because Paige kept my favorite puppy, and she gives me ridiculous puppy hugs and kisses whenever she sees me.

We went for a walk in the freezing cold, and it actually snowed a bit. Just a flurry, not even enough to be visible on the ground, but it sure was pretty in the air. Wednesday morning we went for a nice horseback ride, which is something I love to do, but haven't done for years and years, so it was great to get back in the saddle.

On Thursday I rode my bike to Tennessee and back. It was fun on the way there, but when I turned around I realized the wind was stronger than I had thought, but I made it back before dark, so it was all good. While I was in the town of Ardmore, TN, I was chased by every freakin' dog in town, including a pack of Chihuahuas. Again. This time, I didn't run over any of them, although I certainly threatened them.

Cruise report

After an uneventful flight to Miami, a night of talking, and a couple of hours of sleep, my friend Anna and I made our way over to the Port of Miami, where we met up with my mom, step-dad, brother, and sis-in-law and got on the boat. We acquainted ourselves with the boat and had some food. When we returned to our rooms after dinner, we were pleased to discover a snake in the bed, left by our wonderful room steward, Florin.

Our first afternoon and night at sea were pretty mellow, as we were still in fairly shallow water. The morning of the second day, we docked in Nassau, Bahamas, and went ashore for... well, people seemed to mostly be into the shopping, but the young'uns in our group opted to rent scooters and cruise around the island for a while. When we returned to the ship, we noticed this sign, but figured Carnival probably just couldn't get a cut of the scooter rental, so they were discouraging participation. That evening, we returned to our room to find a playful puppy.

The third day was spent entirely at sea, and we had gotten out into deeper waters by that time, so the seas were a bit rougher. No one in our group actually vomited, but some of us were looking a bit green around the gills after having a glass of wine with dinner. There was a frog infestation in our quarters.

Day four was another shore day, this time in St. Thomas, USVI. They drive on the left, as a remnant of their original colonization, but they have to use standard US cars, so the drivers are all way out on the edges. It's a bit wacky. Our group split up for our own activities. Anna and I went to "Blackbeard's Castle," which was a tower atop a hill, surrounded by several historical houses and a rum factory. Their pineapple rum was delicious, as was the rum punch. We then went to a beautiful beach, Secret Cove, recommended by the information lady. It had great sand and fantastic snorkeling opportunities. (We saw a turtle!) After some swimming and lounging, we had a beer and watched the sun set. We picked a beer called "Virgin Islands Summer Ale," assuming it would be local, but it was actually brewed in Maine. Sigh. At least it was tasty... When we got back to our room, we discovered a chilled out bunny watching the Simpsons. He let us join him.

Day five was another shore day, this time in St. Maarten, NA. We hopped into a taxi, completely bypassed the shopping area, and went to the french side of the island, where we caught a "ferry"-- really just a largish motorboat-- out to Pinel Island. It was a nature reserve area with beaches, snorkeling, and a couple of open air restaurants. We considered staying there forever, but our iPods were on the boat, so after a nice loungy day, we came back to a stampede.

Day six we were at sea all day, but had become more accustomed to the movement of the boat, so only the elephant got sick. He had a cold, though; it wasn't the seasickness. He was whisked off to the infirmary, and a kooky monkey moved in. Anna and I treated ourselves to full body massages, with complimentary mini-facials, for exorbitant prices, but we figured we had done really well with money on the trip, so we might as well treat ourselves. There was an UTTERLY FANTASTIC 80s tribute show in the main theater that we enjoyed more than anyone on the boat. Anna and I were so into it, we went to both showings. In between the shows, Florin treated us to a towel folding lesson, and showed us his own creation, which he had used when working out of Galveston, TX.

Day seven of the cruise was also at sea, and the weather turned cool, so everyone was kinda trapped inside the ship, and we were not feeling too sad about our impending disembarkation. We will miss the nightly towel animals, though.

We got off the boat in Miami pretty early, then went on an airboat ride in the Everglades, and looked at free and caged alligators and crocodiles. Then it was off to the freezing cold Miami airport to wait around for our flight. We all happened to be on the same first leg of the flight, but were not able to sit near each other. We did, however, get to play trivia on the fancy little touchscreens on the seatbacks, and we could see how the others were doing and what they had answered, so it was almost like hanging out. That flight left a little late, so it was a bit hairy making my connecting flight, but I just barely scraped by, and now I am back in Huntsville, swaying with landsickness.

This morning on our walk, we saw a bovine couple in the beginning stages of sweet lovemaking, but they stopped as soon as I started clapping and pulled out the camera. Next time I'll be stealthier. Who knew they were so shy?

Later, suckers!

The new year has been all about lounging around. We made some apple fruit leather and visited the two remaining puppies, who are no longer roly-poly babies, but skinny leggy little things. They are still very cuddly and sweet, and seem to have a good life on the farm, chasing the chickens and cats around. I also got a chance to go to the Huntsville Botanical Garden. It seemed like a pretty cool place, but nothing was in bloom and most things didn't even have leaves, so I'm guessing it's a much better outing from May to September. But I got a few decent pics of both the garden and the puppies, as well as a short puppy video, so check those out if you are so inclined.

I am currently en route to Miami, to go on a week long cruise in the eastern Caribbean with family and a friend. I will be out of contact until December 18, at which point I will return with many pictures.

Happy New Year!

Things have been fairly mellow since my return to Alabama. The weather has been sunny, but chilly, so there have been plenty of opportunities for walking, running and biking outdoors. For about forty-five minutes at a time. Then it's back inside for a hot shower. Holiday television programming has offered many opportunities for tv bulimia-- binge on a marathon of NCIS or Mythbusters, purge by turning off the tv and turning toward the kitchen.

The kitchen has been a fun place lately. We made our own mayonnaise for the first time which turned out to be quite tasty. We used it to whip up that southern classic: pimento cheese sandwiches (pronounced "pimenna-cheese"), using Miz Childers' (of the raw milk farm) recipe, as well as her homemade raw milk Colby cheese. But don't worry. We... fed it to some animals... or something...

My latest experiment in the kitchen was to make eggnog from scratch. It turned out to be completely awesome. The only bad part was that we took it to a New Year's party, and the other partygoers drank it. I mean, I guess it's good that they liked it, but we feel like we should have had more for us, so I may need to make more soon. It being made almost entirely of eggs, whole milk and cream, it may become a meal replacement drink for us at some point.