While I was sitting at the Starbucks last night waiting for Rhonda to finish her meditation class, the shop closed. I had arrived at about 7:20 and the shop closed at 8pm. I had just assumed it closed at 9pm since that’s when they close in Texas. So, here I was with at least 30 minutes before Rhonda was done. She had the keys to the car and there wasn’t another coffee shop in sight. What to do, what to do? Most of the other businesses had closed up already and the street was semi-deserted. There were still cars whizzing by but not much foot traffic.
I decided to go lurk near the building where Rhonda’s class was being held. It’s one of those tiny little doors that leads upstairs to other rooms so the only place to sit was on the front stoop. One of the few places still open was the fitness center next door. I used to have a gym membership and I really enjoyed going. It was just too hot in Texas most of the time to do much of any exercise outside. So, it was nice to have somewhere air conditioned to get all sweaty. Now that I live in Seattle, though, I can’t imagine being cooped up in a small room, running on a small strip of rubber, constantly moving but going nowhere. It’s just so beautiful here and the weather! Oh, it’s heaven!
Anyway, while I sat in the little doorway, people would occasionally come out of the gym and head to their cars. There weren’t many but enough so I felt safe sitting there. I figured if anyone messed with me, surely someone in there had lifted a few weights and could help me out. After about ten minutes, I saw this man heading towards me. He was looking right at me which is unusual when someone is walking on the sidewalk. Usually, people don’t make eye contact. It seems too threatening. Well, this guy was looking at me and making a bee line for my stoop. The night air was cool but not enough for a coat. There was no breeze on the street and the temperature was around 60 degrees. This guy was wearing a quilted coat and a cap and he had a backpack slung over one shoulder. So, not only was he headed toward me, he looked suspicious doing it. I was going through the rudimentary karate moves I’ve learned when he stopped a respectful distance away and asked if I could spare any change. His dark hair was greasy and came to a point on the top of his head. The coat he wore had probably once been blue but now was covered with mysterious dark brown spots. His jeans were nice enough and he had on really nice shoes. They were black, possibly leather, and polished to a high sheen. I couldn’t have done better when I was still polishing my boots for my EMS dress uniform. His voice was very soft and I could barely hear him when he spoke. My immediate response to him was, “No, I don’t have anything.” I didn’t think I had any money on me although it turned out I had $2 in my wallet. After I told him no, he put down his backpack and rummaged through it. I felt my heart quicken as I was about to enter the flight or fight state. But then he pulled out two cans of Chunky soup and asked me if I wanted some.
I worked with and around homeless people and street people for a long time. One of my EMS stations was in downtown Austin a block from the homeless shelter and two blocks from the Salvation Army. I have seen them at their worst and at their best. But I have never been offered food by any of them. Now, I’m assuming he was a homeless guy. He may not have been but he had the look and his mannerisms while asking for money spoke volumes about the way he had probably been treated in the past. To say I was touched would be an understatement. He took my saying I didn’t have anything to heart and offered to share what I’m guessing was his breakfast, lunch, and dinner with me.
I have had some interesting street experiences. I lived in Baltimore for one excruciatingly long year back at the beginning of the 90s. I didn’t have a car so I took the bus most places. One of my haunts was the gay and lesbian center in downtown Baltimore. This part of town was actually considered to be a “good” part of town. Not much crime, clean streets, plenty of police cruising by. Well, one night as I was leaving some gather or other, I was waiting on the street corner for the bus. This guy comes up behind me, grabs my arm, and swings me around to face him. He gathered up the collar of my shirt in his meaty fist and asked for my money. I didn’t even think. I was carrying a backpack full of books. I swung the bag at his head and knocked him over. I then ran like a bat out of hell towards the bus across the street that wasn’t going anywhere near where I wanted to be. I couldn’t have cared less where that bus was headed. It was going away from him and that’s all that mattered.
I have had some interesting street experiences. I lived in Baltimore for one excruciatingly long year back at the beginning of the 90s. I didn’t have a car so I took the bus most places. One of my haunts was the gay and lesbian center in downtown Baltimore. This part of town was actually considered to be a “good” part of town. Not much crime, clean streets, plenty of police cruising by. Well, one night as I was leaving some gather or other, I was waiting on the street corner for the bus. This guy comes up behind me, grabs my arm, and swings me around to face him. He gathered up the collar of my shirt in his meaty fist and asked for my money. I didn’t even think. I was carrying a backpack full of books. I swung the bag at his head and knocked him over. I then ran like a bat out of hell towards the bus across the street that wasn’t going anywhere near where I wanted to be. I couldn’t have cared less where that bus was headed. It was going away from him and that’s all that mattered.
As I stood there trying to decided what to do, I saw a figure turn the corner and head down my street. I reached into my bag in search of something sharp. The only thing I could come up with was a Star Trek lapel pin someone had recently given me. That wouldn’t cause anymore damage than a paper cut. My feet were glued to the pavement as he made his way ever closer. At about ten feet, he stopped and stared at me. He was in his early 20s with short black hair and cocoa skin. He was nicely dressed and had a kind face. He looked at me like one would look at a lost dog. He put his hands up to show they were empty and spoke softly as if not to scare me away. He was treating me like the skittish animal I seemed to be. He asked if I was okay and if he could help. Something told me I could trust him so I told him what had happened. Halfway through my tale, I burst into tears and had to pause several times to regain enough composure to continue speaking. He listened patiently as I blubbered my way through my story and then asked if he could help. He asked where I was going then proceeded to walk me to the proper bus stop so I could catch the right bus. He stayed with me, telling me about his life in Baltimore, until my bus arrived. He made sure I got on the bus and then watched me pull away. I made it back to my house about 30 minutes later. I have never forgotten that kind man. His name was Calvin. Where ever you are Calvin, thank you so much for helping a terrified girl find her way home.
I seem to always find danger in the “good” part of town, literally and figuratively, and then find help in the “bad” areas. The most generous people I’ve ever met didn’t have much at all to share but they gladly shared it. By contrast, I have known some extremely wealthy people who wouldn’t give a dime to a blind old nun begging on the street. Some man stops to help me more than fifteen years ago and I remember everything about him to this day. A homeless man begging for change on the street offers to share his food with me because he thinks I don’t have any. There’s a bible verse that I’ve always liked but never can fully remember. It’s something to the effect of a miserly man having as much success getting to heaven as pulling a camel through the eye of a needle. I’m sure I’m mangling it but that’s the gist. We’re all in this thing called life together. None of us can make it alone. I don’t remember hardly any of the strangers I’ve come across in my life but I will forever remember Calvin. And I suspect I’ll always remember the homeless man who offered to share his food. Who will remember you today?
It seems really cliche these days to hang out in a coffee shop in Seattle. I mean, everyone does it right? After all, Seattle was the birthplace of a $4 cup of coffee. Seattle is famous for its coffee. Well, coffee and rain. The interesting thing, though, is that while there really is a coffee shop on every corner, it doesn’t rain that much here. I read somewhere, or heard from the proverbial “they,” that it rains more per year in Arizona than in Seattle. Now I’ve not lived here for a whole four seasons yet. I’ve been here for three seasons though and it doesn’t rain nearly as much as everyone thinks. Take today for example. It was sunny and 65 degrees. It’s supposed to be sunny and 60ish for the next seven days. In fact, it’s not supposed to rain until the first part of November. The best thing I can say is that it’s NOT HOT!! I can’t even tell you how happy I am about that.
Yesterday was my first full day here. I slept until I woke up and then didn’t have to load up the critters. Rhonda and I went to Lincoln Park so she could show me the ferry. Luckily, we had gone to Target the night before to get me a hoodie because the wind coming off the sound was chilly. The park was beautiful. All the trees are aflame with reds, golds, and yellows. In Texas, the leaves don’t change colors. They just fall off the tree and then you have trees with no leaves. Here the colors are just amazing. We walked down this little footpath lined with leaves and slick from the light drizzle that had been falling. Looking out over the sound with the smell of fall blowing in my face, I had this sudden sense of belonging. For years now, I knew that Texas wasn’t where I was supposed to be but I didn’t know where I should be. The feeling that I had at long last found it, THE place, was indescribable. I’m not sure why I’m here but I’m supposed to be here.
After walking around the park a while, we decided to go to this little fish place on Alki Beach. It’s called Spuds and it’s the oldest fast food place in Seattle. Its been there since 1935. They don’t serve any tofu there so I had french fries and cole slaw. Mmm, nutritious, lol. But Rhonda had been wanting to go there for a while so I was happy to oblige.
I wanted to go to Pike Place Market to buy some new t-shirts. There is a woman named Sara with a booth down there. She makes these beautiful mandala designs. I’ve been buying shirts from her for at least six years. Now that I live somewhere that will actually get cold, I bought a couple of long sleeve shirts. I just love the market. The energy of the crowds, the smell of flowers and fruit, the guys at the fish stand throwing seafood at each other. It’s exhilarating. There are lots more shops in the lower levels that sometimes people miss. One of my favorites is this dark little shop that just reeks of nag champa. It sells lots of “new age” type stuff. There’s also lots of stuff from India. What really intrigues me, however, are the jars along one wall full of mysterious herbs and who knows what else. Names like Chrysalis and Hempjaw adorn the jars. Some of the substances are obviously powders but some look like dried cartilage or bone fragments. I’m sure it’s all perfectly harmless but to me it just feels forbidden, like the voodoo shops in New Orleans. It seems as if there’s a whole other world of potions and mixtures of which I have no knowledge. Such mysteries to unravel!
Another favorite store is not actually in Pike Market but on Western Avenue right across the street. It’s called World Spice Merchants. As I round the corner, the smell draws me in. There are so many types of spice in here, it’s impossible to tell which one your smelling at any given time. Right inside the front door are shelves containing little one ounce samples of everything they offer. If it’s a spice, they probably have it. What we were in search of this day, however, was something specific. Rhonda had discovered this little gem and was eager to share it with me. It’s called Mayan Cocoa. It’s a mix of cocoa, chile, allspice, cinnamon, and who knows what else. Rhonda has been putting some in with her coffee and said it was divine. I was looking forward to having some but it wasn’t to be this day. They were out! I sniffed at the little sample bottle though and it does smell heavenly. They told us they would have some more made it in a day or two. So, bummer of bummers, we have to go back down to the market area so we can get some. What a hardship for me to have to go there twice. :P
Oh, one other thing I noticed down there. They have installed one of those self-contained tubular shaped public toilets. I’m not exactly sure how it works but apparently, you enter and the door slides shut behind you. There’s a shower and a toilet in there which you can then use. The door automatically opens after ten minutes and spits you out whether you’re ready to leave or not. It then goes through this cleaning cycle and, voila, is ready for the next person. I’m not sure how it cleans itself. And what happens to the toilet paper during this process. Seems to me, it would get wet. But, hey, I guess you’d have to go look for yourself and I wasn’t willing to wait in the long line to find out.
I just love living in the city. There’s so much to see and I am easily amused.
Alright, I know this is a day late but I was just too tired to blog last night.
Day six started off pretty well. I’d had some sleep. R.J. digging in the litter box woke me up and I had to go move him out. But other than that, I slept. Pachelbel woke me up earlier than I planned but hey, it was my last day on the road so getting an earlier start couldn’t hurt.
The first thing I had to do before I could leave town was get gas. Luckily someone in California had told me that you aren’t allowed to pump your own gas in Oregon. I find this really odd in our self-serve society but hey, what ever keeps me warm and dry in my car is a good thing. Turns out, there’s a $500 fine for everyone involved if someone is caught pumping their own gas. In Texas, it’s just a given that people do everything themselves. We’d get a might pissy if told we couldn’t do something ourselves, lol. So, anyway, this really nice young man pumped my gas. I feel so old calling him a nice young man but he couldn’t have been more than 16 or 17. What the hell, maybe I am getting old, lol.
I took her outside so she could pee and it was still cold and rainy. Now, I was in a weird state when I packed for this part of my journey. I had already packed all my clothes except for some t-shirts and shorts when it dawned on me it wasn’t going to be 80 degrees the whole time. So, I opened up a box and pulled out some pants and a pair of sweats. Why grabbing a sweater or a jacket didn’t occur to me, I have no idea but it didn’t. So, yesterday morning when I went out to walk Pachelbel I was in a short sleeve t-shirt and sweat pants. I was quickly damp from the drizzle and very cold by the time Pachelbel had done her business. Getting everybody out to the car was easier than before because I had finally had the bright idea of putting them in the same carrier instead of carrying around two big carriers. Why this didn’t occur to me before the last day of my trip is probably the same reason I was freezing my ass off. My brain was pretty much mush.
It rained pretty much the entire day. Sometimes, it was coming down in sheets so thick, I could barely see the road in front of me. Once or twice, I COULDN’T see the road. I found myself sitting up close to the windshield hoping that would help me see the road better. Yeah, that extra foot made everything just so much clearer, lol. Most of the time, though, it was just a drizzle. The truly astounding part was the rainbows. I saw more rainbows in one day than I think I’ve seen in 10 years. There were rainbows on the mountains and rainbows between my car and the one in front. I felt like I could just reach out and touch them, they were so close. It was amazing. I took it as a sign that I was headed down the right path.
When I hit the Washington state line, I still had 150 or so miles to go. That was probably the longest 150 miles of my life. It just seemed to go on and on and on. Finally, the real countdown began. 40 miles, 30, 20, 10. I was so close, I could taste it. It was at this point that I missed my exit off I5. I totally flaked. Yep, I watched it go by on my right with no hope of making it. Luckily, I was able to make a u-turn at the next exit but still it added 10 minutes to my journey which honestly at that moment felt like an hour, lol. After getting turned around, I was 10 minutes from my house. As I pulled onto the street, I started whooping and Pachelbel whooped with me. I pulled into the driveway and Rhonda ran out to meet us. It was wonderful! I couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. I bet I hugged her five times in as many minutes. I knew I had missed her but damn, I hadn’t realized how much until I saw her again. We both agreed that doing that again was a bad idea.
The book continues but a page has turned and this chapter of my journey has ended. What began six weeks ago, for me, has come to an end. I never realized how long and how short six weeks could be. It seemed to take forever before I saw Rhonda again and then again, it seems like only last week I still had two weeks left at work. I learned a lot about myself during that time. I really can get everything done that needs doing. I may wait to the last minute, but I get it done. I can drive 2600 miles with three cats and a dog and not go crazy. Podcasts are the most wonderful things on Earth! I am stubborn as the day is long and I will not be defeated by anything. Rhonda is the most amazing woman I have ever known and I don’t ever want to be apart from her for that long again. And most importantly: It’s not hot in Seattle!!!!!
The critters were pretty good last night. Pachelbel barked at some noisy neighbors once, Sparky didn’t meow at all, and R.J. behaved himself. The phone rang at 7am. The number was 999-999-9999. This is like the third or fourth time I’ve gotten a call from that number and it’s always really early. I answered it and it was a voice mail recording: “You’ve reached (number I can’t remember), leave a message after the beep.” There was no beep or I would definitely have left a message. Then my friend Mary, who was at dinner last night, called and I was pretty rude to her. Sorry, Mary!
When I got back in the car after checking out, my mom had called. My great aunt Kathleen died this morning. She had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer a while back and was given six months to a year to live. She was doing fairly well until a few weeks ago when it finally became necessary to put her in the nursing home. After that, she started failing fast. So, this morning she passed on. She was 85 years old and had a good life. Her husband, my uncle Fred, died back in 1981. I was sad that she has gone but I’m glad she didn’t linger in pain and miserable for a long time. Most likely her funeral will be in a few days. I wish I could go but I’m just not going to be able to. After all this traveling, I just can’t get on a plane and do some more. I have reached my limit. My mom understands. We’ll all miss Aunt Kathleen but she’s in a better place now and no longer in pain.
After talking to mom, I hit the road. I had considered just driving straight through to Seattle. It’s about 12 hours or so. After just a few hours of driving, though, I knew I wouldn’t be doing that. I was just too tired and restless to go that far. Plus, it wouldn’t be fair to the critters, making them go through that just for my own sake.
Oregon is a beautiful state! The mountains were huge and some were covered in snow. All the leaves are changing so I had a feast of color for my eyes the whole way here. The road was pretty hilly and I saw more of those runaway truck ramps. The funny thing with these though is that they don’t ramp up so the truck can slow down with gravity. It’s just a big shoulder that ends in a big pile of earth. I’m not sure where the benefit to the driver is in that. He may not hurt the rest of us but he’s gonna damage the hell out of himself. See, we just don’t have that problem in Texas. None of our mountains are big enough for that. Something else that just tickled me were the signs for snow chains. I was advised several times that the right shoulder was for putting on your chains only. There were also signs along the road that were turned so you couldn’t read them until you were past them but they said: “Snow chains required.” Yet another thing that is totally new to me. I don’t even know what snow chains look like. I have an idea but I’ve never seen them in real life. The thought that I’m going to be living near a place like that just floors me. How different from everything I’ve known this will be.
About 30 minutes outside Sacramento, I hit some bad weather and it followed me the whole way. It poured down rain so hard I could hardly see for a while then it was just a steady rain. At some point along the way, the clouds cleared and the sun came out. A giant rainbow splashed across the mountains right in front of me. It was breathtakingly beautiful. As if that were the eye of the storm, the clouds moved back in and it continued to rain the rest of the way. I made it to Grants Pass and realized how much the temperature difference was when I got out of my car. I am so not used to cold weather. In fact, I started to only bring shorts and t-shirts on this trip. I finally got a clue and realized it wouldn’t be 85 degrees the whole way and packed some pants. I still have no coat though, or even a sweat shirt. Our stuff isn’t supposed to be in Seattle until sometime between the 22nd and 27th. I’m gonna have to make a Goodwill run just to find something to stay warm.
I’m happy this is the last night. Tomorrow I’ll be sleeping in my own, albeit new, bed with my wife in my own house. It’s been six weeks since I’ve seen her. I miss her like crazy. Plus I’m ready to start my new life. And I’m sure the critters will be happy to be out of the car for good. Although they’ve been real troopers. I didn’t expect traveling with them would be as relatively easy as it has been.
The nights are becoming progressively better. Last night, Sparky didn’t meow at all. But R.J. was doing his best to dig to China in the litter box. Now that in itself isn’t so bad but he would take 20 minutes to do it. I was really sleepy but it took forever to fall asleep. Then, R.J. woke me up at 8:30 and I couldn’t get back to sleep. So, I took Pachelbel for a walk and got some coffee. I was packed up and pulling out by 11am.
Today was a short day, only about four and a half hours. I have to say, California drivers are some of the rudest drivers I have ever seen. If I hadn’t had my critters, I’d have slammed on my brakes and let the assholes buy me a new car. I mean, come on, is it really necessary to shove the front of your car up the ass end of mine? I’ll move over as soon as I can.
The real kicker came when an 18 wheeler either didn’t see me or didn’t care and almost rammed me into the divider. He just came right over into my lane even though I was occupying it at the time. I slammed on my brakes. The harness I bought for Pachelbel proved its worth. The poor kitties got smushed up against the door of their carriers. I was able to avoid the tail end of the trailer but not by much. The really funny part of this is that it was a truck hauling chickens. I can see the headlines now: Texas Vegetarian Plucked by Chicken Truck. Well, luckily that bullet was dodged.
So, my friends began showing up at the hotel shortly after I arrived. Some of them drove up to three hours just to see me. I was so excited to get together with them. Some I haven’t seen in over a year and a half. It’s amazing how easy it is to just pick up where we left off. We had a great time over dinner and I got to meet some people I hadn’t met in person before. It was a lot of fun. The critters got lots of loving so they were happy.
Tomorrow is day five, off to Grants Pass, OR. I’m almost there. Just one more night after tonight and then I’ll be in Seattle. I can’t wait!!
Alright, off to bed. Maybe R.J. will avoid China tonight.
After my last post, I turned off my computer and climbed into bed. Let me preface this by saying I love true crime shows. My favorite is Cold Case Files. Just before I left Texas, I watched an episode about a man who killed women staying in the hotel in which he worked. Really not a good idea to watch something like that just before I left on a long trip. So, I woke up at least three times in the night and had to make sure the door was locked. Between that and Sparky meowing off and on for hours, I didn’t get much sleep.
In the morning, I loaded up the critters and headed off to Mesa. The trip was uneventful. I continue to be surprised at how well the pets are doing. The cats just hang out in their carriers. Shadow meows a bit but not much. Mostly, they just hang out and sleep.
I listened to 60 Minutes podcasts and got to Mesa around 5ish. I’ve been looking forward to this leg of the journey for a long time because I finally got to meet Elsieaustin. We’ve been emailing and IMing and talking on the phone for months. We’ve had these intense discussions about, well, everything. So we finally got to meet in person. She was just as wonderful as I thought she’d be. After spending a long time hauling my two very large cat carriers, complete with cats, my dog, and all my stuff into her apartment, we settled into a conversation that felt like we were just picking up where we left off from our last one. We talked about Xena, the XOC, writing, stories, and a bunch more stuff. Before I knew it, it was 11pm and time to get ready for bed.
I was pleasantly surprised that Sparky only meowed a little bit in the night and I slept really good. We sat and talked some more over coffee since she was going into work late. It was really nice just getting to visit. She suggested we carry the cats down in our arms this time instead of the carriers and that made it so much easier. The very last animal was R.J. the cat. We looked everywhere for him but just couldn’t find him. Finally, there he was under the bathroom sink all nestled in amongst the rolls of toilet paper and cotton balls. He’s so funny. Back at the car, me and Elsie said our goodbyes. It was a really awesome evening/morning and I’m really glad we got to spend some time together. Hmmm, the Carol Burnett song just burst into my head.
I’m so glad we had this time together
Just to have a laugh and sing a song
Seems we just get started and before you know it
Comes the time we have to say so long
I’m really, really sleepy. Can you tell? :D
After leaving Elsie’s house, I just drove and drove and then drove some more. I was on I10 for over a 1000 miles and the vast majority of it was a rollicking gallop through nothing, nothing, and more nothing. I think I was in that drive trance when I realized I was about to miss my exit for I5. I sped across three lanes of traffic but I made it. I was so glad I hadn’t missed it because I probably would have hit Malibu before I realized something wasn’t right.
I expected to get caught in LA traffic but surprisingly, I didn’t. In fact, there was very little traffic at all. Not once did I hit the bumper to bumper I was expecting. The landscape FINALLY started to change too! I was very excited about that. I had mountains to look at and a city to see. Well, I think it was mountains and a city. The haze that squatted over the entire region made it hard to tell. At some point along the way, I hit some major wind action and had to white knuckle the steering wheel. I’ve gotten too many speeding tickets and honestly my days of speeding are over so everybody and their grandma on her moped were whizzing by me at dizzying speeds. But they were all real friendly and gave me a little wave as they zipped around me. At least, that’s what I choose to believe they were doing.
I saw something today I’ve never seen before. Not in 39 years of living. Runaway truck ramps. These are ramps that go up so that if a truck loses its brakes while going down the hill, it can stop. I had no idea that trucks were that prone to running away. Makes you a little afraid to get in front of them. And there were lots of trucks. It seemed that they were limited to the right two lanes so I stayed in one of the left two lanes. Of course, since I wasn’t speeding, that gave everybody plenty of opportunities to wave at me as they blew by.
After what seemed like 20 years, I finally pulled into the La Quinta parking lot. Today was a nine hour day. Day one was also a nine hour day. It’s amazing how much longer nine hours can seem on day three of a six day trip as opposed to day one. My room’s on the second floor but luckily it’s right near the elevator so getting everyone up to my room was a piece of cake. The IHOP is conveniently located right next door so I had breakfast for dinner. It was fantastically good. It’s not easy eating on a road trip when you’re vegetarian. I can’t just pull into Dairy Queen and order a veggie burger. I am in California but even this granola state isn’t that granola yet. Although come to think of it, it may be. I didn’t actually stop anywhere to look. My friend Bri tells me between here and Sacramento is a great place to get fruit and nuts.
Tomorrow is a short day, only about five hours. I’m hooking up with a bunch of my recovery friends in Sacramento. We’re gonna meet for dinner and hang out. I haven’t seen them in at least nine months, some of them it’s been over a year, so I’m really excited. A couple are even driving three hours just to see me. I feel special. :D
I’m truly exhausted now but I still need to walk Pachelbel before I turn in. R.J. is eating the dog’s food, Sparky is sitting on the table looking terrified, and Shadow is eating and threatening to snot all over the wall. I was hoping her allergies would be better here but apparently they won’t be. Ah well, what’s a bit of snot amongst loved ones?
Well, day one is coming to a close. It was actually easier than I expected. Except the leaving my mom this morning. That wasn’t easier. It’s been a really long time, over 15 years, since I moved from the state. Back then I was too fucked up to feel anything about it. Today, I know what I’ll be missing. I love my parents very much and I’m gonna miss them like crazy. But, I’ll be back to visit and there’s always the Internet and phone calls. Hell, we might even be talking more. So, after the painful goodbyes I was ready to go.
Actually first, I had to load up the cats. I got my car set up with two big carriers that take up the whole back seat. I got the two black kitties, Shadow and Sparky, in one and R.J. in the other. Pachelbel was sitting in the front seat with me. I had taken the whole brood to the vet on Thursday and he told me to give them Benadryl for motion sickness or if they needed some sedation. Shadow, the old lady, tends to get motion sick so I gave her some Benadryl. Well, I tried to give her some. She foamed at the mouth for a while and then threw it up. So much for the Benadryl. Oh well. I got them all loaded up, I got Pachelbel hooked up with her seat belt harness and off I went.
All went well until I took a wrong turn and ended up in Menard instead of Junction. It was a thirty mile mistake. But, I took a shortcut and only got about 45 minutes behind. Once I hit I10 in Junction, I had 444 miles of absolutely nothing. And when I say nothing, I mean nothing. No towns, no houses, no gas stations. Nothing. Well, there was the occasional gas station. There’d have to be. But those were usually about 60-70 miles apart. What was really interesting though was watching the land shift from the familiar hill country that I grew up with to the stark, barren mountains of west Texas.
I stopped about every hour and a half or so to let Pachelbel pee and stretch my legs. I also got gas every chance I got in case the next gas station was too far away, lol. The only scary one was in Kent. It was nothing but a falling down building with truly questionable restrooms. But when you gotta go, you gotta go. Pachelbel likes to smell everything she can reach before she pees so we did a lot of walking around.
I got to El Paso about 7pm or so. I gained an hour along the way so it was actually 8pm my time. I left home at 10am so it was a 10 hour trip. It would have probably taken 9 if I hadn’t taken that wrong turn. Oh well. It was a pretty drive at least.
So, now I’m kicked back at the La Quinta. They are a pet friendly hotel that doesn’t charge extra for the pets. A big winner in my book. I’m stuffed full of pizza and now I think it’s time to go to bed.
Tomorrow I’m headed to Mesa where I’ll be hooking up with Elsieaustin! Yay!!! I just hope she’s ready for me and the brood to stay the night.
Speaking of the brood, here they are. RJ is at the head of the bed, Shadow is in the middle, Sparky is at the foot, and Pachelbel is on the floor:
The movers are at my house right now taking away all the boxes and various things that I’ve busted my butt to get ready. My last day at work was September 28 and it’s been nonstop work since then. It is just amazing the amount of stuff you accumulate. I went through everything that first week after quitting my job to decide what to sell. We had already decided to get rid of a lot of stuff. Moving to a new city, new state, may as well start over with new stuff.
So, I started going through the house room by room. I felt like I was back at Kmart having a blue light sale. “Everything must go!!!” Rhonda had used the back bedroom as her office/studio and it was filled with the products of 10 years worth of hobbies. She went down a lot of creative paths before she found her current passion, knitting, so there was a multitude of various items in that room. She had gone through there before we left for Seattle back at the beginning of September. Since she wasn’t coming back, I wanted her to tell me how much everything should cost. Our crafty friends came out the weekend before the sale and bought everything they wanted. We gave them a really good deal.
Part of the process of going through everything was also hauling it up to my parents house where we were having the sale. They have the most amazing house. It’s a giant barn with the house built inside. They spent an entire year during nights and weekends and assorted days off building it mostly themselves. My brother was a huge help too. Rhonda and I just showed up occasionally to ooh and ahh. Anyway, they have an enormous front porch that turned out to be perfect for the sale. My dad has this giant trailer that he brought down to my front door so I could begin loading stuff up. It was a family effort getting it all up there. My mom and dad helped so much and my brother showed up just in time to help move the heavy couch and the bulky armoire.
The area that took the most work was our shed. This was our junk drawer only on a much larger scale. If we didn’t know what else to do with it, we put it in the shed. Now most of this stuff, we had no desire to keep. We just didn’t know what else to do with it. After pulling it all out onto the yard, I soon realized that our keep pile was gonna be tiny. Sure enough. Out of the entire shed, we kept four boxes full of Rhonda’s papers, one set of shelves, a stand for my drum, and two wooden boxes my grandpa had made. Everything else went onto the trailer. It doesn't rain all the much here during the summer but sure enough, as soon as I had everything piled out on the lawn, the storm clouds began to gather. I raced around throwing things onto the trailer desperately hoping to beat the rain because we don’t just have a bit of rain. We have downpours that completely soak everything. Some of the stuff I had painstakingly pulled out of tool shed would ruin if it got wet. I’m sure I was funny to watch, heaving boxes and various items over the side of the trailer. As I got the last thing tossed on, I could see the rain coming. It poured in sheets from the big black clouds bearing down on me.
I hopped into the pickup, hoping I could get the trailer in my parents’ garage before the rain hit. My dad’s farm truck is this old Ford manual transmission. The driver’s door has to be opened a certain way or it gets stuck. I momentarily forgot that in my haste and was left jerking on the useless door handle, cussing a blue streak. And then I remembered, pushed the handle in the right way, and voila it opened easy peasy. Once in the truck, I stalled it three times before I got the right mixture of gas and clutch to make the beast move. The rain was coming up the field behind me as I drove the 500 feet to my parents’ house. Luckily they have a drive through garage so I was able to just pull it straight on in. Not two seconds after the back of the trailer cleared the door, the downpour caught up and within moments, the ground was soaking wet. I had made it!
We started the sale on Friday morning with three and a half trailer loads of stuff. To say the sale was a success would be an understatement. By the time it was all said and done, we had made almost a $1000 and only had about 2/3 of a trailer left. My dad hauled it up to the Crisis Center and we gave it to them. It had been a lot of effort but it had certainly been worth it.
The other really good thing about the sale was that now only stuff I was keeping was still in my house. Well, that turned out to not be entirely true. By the time I’m done today, I’ll have another load to take to the Crisis Center. Another hazard I discovered of living in the house as you’re packing it up was that I kept packing up things I actually needed to use. I packed up all the dishes and then dang if I didn’t leave me anything to eat off of. So, there are a few boxes I have packed and repacked a couple of times. I also had trouble with the things I may need on my trip. I packed up all my clothes and then realized it was colder where I was going than it is here, so I had to unpack and pull out some pants. I also had to realize this stuff won’t be at our house in Seattle for 10-15 days. So what I pack is what I’ll have to wear until the end of October. Hopefully, it’ll be enough. I only have so much room in the car.
Adventure #2 (or whatever) took place yesterday. I took all four critters to the vet. I figured it’d be a trial run for when I take them with me to Seattle. I put Shadow and Sparky in one carrier and R.J. by himself in the other one. Since R.J. and Sparky don’t get along, I figured it was the best way to go. Pachelbel sat up in the front seat. They were surprisingly easy to handle. The only glitch was Shadow throwing up on the way home. Now they all have their shots, Sparky got treated for ear mites, and Pachelbel came up clean for heart worms. They’re all ready to go. The vet told me to give them Benadryl if they got car sick so that definitely goes on the grocery list.
Once the movers get done, I’m going to finish up here in the house and move on to the next task. Pachelbel is in bad need of some grooming if she’s gonna hang out in my car for a week so we’re taking her to Petsmart to get all dolled up. I had wanted to go see my uncle but it’s just not gonna happen. Since I’m leaving on Monday, I’d like to have one day to rest before I go.
I can’t believe it’s this close. It seemed like it would be forever when we first decided to do this. Now I’m only three days away from leaving Texas and starting a new life in Seattle. I miss Rhonda so much and I can’t wait to see her. I think that has been the hardest part. Being away from her for so long. In just a week, I’ll get to see her again. And when the movers arrive, I get to do all this again in reverse. But Rhonda will be helping on that end! I also told her she can’t give me a hard time about not having a job for at least two months. I need a break!
My grandparents were very important to me. I was an only grandchild and they doted on me. They both died last year. Since I’m leaving Texas to move to Seattle next week, I wanted to take a little part of them with me. When I was a kid, they had a CB radio. Our handles were Mama Rat, Papa Rat, and Baby Rat. The Rat Pack. My buddy Bart did this tattoo for me in honor of them. The little cowboy outfit was my favorite one and Grandpa was always doing crossword puzzles. It turned out bigger than I thought but I love it. It covers half the outside of my left leg.
I have moved several times in my life. Each time, I’ve had varying degrees of stuff. When I first left my parents home, everything I owned fit in my little Ford Pinto station wagon. Over the years, I accumulated more things but it seems that every time I moved, I got rid of a lot. By the time I got married, the two of us had a bunch of stuff. We have furniture, dishes, linens, cookware, pictures, knick knacks. All manner of things. Now since my granny died, I also have a set of china and some crystalware. We plan on getting rid of lots of this stuff but I think we’re still going to end up with more than we think we will.
One thing that never ceases to amaze me is that one box we all seem to carry from place to place. Everyone has it. The box (or whatever you use to store it in) that contains those things we don’t really need anymore but just can’t seem to get rid of. Every once in a while, usually when moving, we open up that box and take a walk through memory lane. That’s the real purpose for that box, after all. It’s not that we want to keep these things per se. It’s that we don’t want to forget the times these items represent.
I have decided to get rid of my box. I’m moving to Seattle. Opening a new chapter in my life. Making the biggest move of my life. Now is a good time to leave that box behind. It is an odd assortment of random items collected over the past 39 years.
There’s the Budman. He was the superhero that Budweiser came up with in the late 60s/early 70s. He’s a funny looking man with a jaw bigger than Jay Leno and menacing dark eyes. His Nerf-material body wears painted on red, white, and blue clothes. Around his neck is a stiff plastic red cape. Chunks have been gouged out of his arms and nose from the many years spent bouncing around in this box with the other paraphernalia of my youth. He smells like burnt insulation and crackles when you press too hard. Why have I kept him? When I was born, my father delivered beer for Budweiser. His occupation listed on my birth certificate is Keg Man. So, Budman represents that part of my childhood when my father still brought me gifts. The time before he turned away and found himself a new family.
There’s a brown intricately carved jewelry box. I think it belonged to my great-grandmother but then again we may have gotten it at a garage sale when I was a kid. I don’t remember. It once had a lock but I lost the key and had to twist it off. Inside are notes passed from the hands of my friends while I was in high school. The majority of them are just “Mrs. Laird is sooo boring” and “Billy is soo cute” type notes. A few of them deal with darker, heavier issues. “My dad got drunk and hit Mom again last night. Can I stay at your house?” “I think I might be pregnant. Will you go to the doctor with me?” There’s also notes from a boy I thought I liked. We were discussing going to some dance. That was when I was trying to fit in and pretend I liked boys instead of admitting the truth: I liked my friends a whole lot more. Why have I kept these notes? Maybe because they represent an innocence I have since lost. They are the musings of children who no longer exist. I’m not the same girl who read those notes secretively under the desk, trying to keep the teacher from seeing. That girl has since been lost or perhaps sloughed off by the emerging adult I became. Maybe that is why I keep the notes. To remind myself of who I once was.
Down at the bottom of the box is a sticker. It’s red with white and blue lettering. Inside the shape of Texas are the words “Emergency Medical Technician.” I bought this sticker at the cop shop in Austin. The store had a locked security door with a camera mounted at the top. I hit the red call button then held up my ID to the camera. A low buzz indicated I had been chosen to enter. Once inside, the aroma of gun oil was almost over powering. A glass enclosed room contained more rifles and handguns than I had ever seen in one place. Off to the left were racks of clothes, boots, and bullet proof vests. Over to the right were shelves full of leather or vinyl accessories for the well dressed cop. Amongst all these bristling symbols of authority, I found the two sets of shelves I came looking for. Here was the medic gear. Scissors, little flashlights, trauma shears, and Spanish to English translation books filled the shelves. A plastic bin contained the sticker I had coveted for over a year. I pulled out my prize and took three of them to the counter. “I just got my EMT yesterday,” I proudly proclaimed to the heavyset, sweaty man behind the counter. “Well good for you, little lady,” he told me in a big, booming voice. Back outside, I cleaned off the upper right corner of my back windshield and placed my sticker there for all to see. I was so proud, it’s a wonder I didn’t burst. That was 1990. I went on to become a paramedic and work for Austin EMS. It was my dream. Now, the dream having ended in disillusionment and resentment, I’ve decided to get rid of that sticker. It’s a symbol of a world I once believed in but now see doesn’t really exist. Or maybe it’s that my idea of that world wasn’t realistic in the first place. Either way, the sticker has no place in my life anymore.
Do any of us really need to keep that box? Is it useful to have these reminders of days long gone or is it a weight that keeps us mired in the past? I’d have to say, at least for myself, it’s a little of both. Sometimes I like to be reminded that I once thought who was going to be chosen homecoming queen was important. That I had such small cares at one time. Another part of me wants to cut all that adrift. Let it become one of those amorphous images that occasionally flutters into my conscious.
I love metaphors and this box is one of the greatest metaphors of my life. This is all the stuff I’ve been carrying around. All the joy and happiness but also all the heartache, longing, hardship, and pain. I think it’s time to empty the box. Everything I need is held inside my heart. Everything else is just excess baggage.