Girassol

2007 in places

I've seen this meme on a couple of blogs I read and because I am a fan of traveling, I decided to think back over this past year and the places I spent at least one night.

• Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
• Blue Ridge Summit, Pennsylvania
• Seven Valleys, Pennsylvania
• the parking lot of a Rutter's along US-30
• the parking lot of a Sheetz along US-15
  
• Baltimore, Maryland
• Rochester, New York
• Corolla, North Carolina
• Orem, Utah
• San José, Costa Rica
• Monteverde, Costa Rica
• Rincón de la Vieja National Park, Costa Rica
• Playa Panamá, Costa Rica

Overall 2007 was a pretty decent traveling year, but I hope to visit a few more exciting places in 2008.  Now that I have no summer classes to take and no thesis to write, I hope to get some hardcore roadtripping in, and perhaps even a new international adventure.  I'm thinking Mexico.  It is sad that I teach Spanish, for several years lived mere hours away from Mexico, and yet am the only member of my family to have never set foot South of the Border.  I hope to remedy this in 2008.

The Paris Hilton of the motorcycle world

Every summer, my town hosts a Bike Week, which is when something like 15,000 Harley-Davidsons meet here, cruise around on their choppers and participate in tattoo contests.  When I first moved in, I was nervous that it would be rough and scary, but it's actually a very community-friendly event, and the bikers are some of the nicest, friendliest people I've seen come through here.  Yet, they've still got that tough exterior thing going on.

So last night I'm driving downtown, and as I stop at a stoplight, I hear a dog yipping at me. I turn my head left to see what's going on, and there's a dude on a Harley (totally tricked out, with a trailer and custom everything), with his sleeves rolled up and his boots and his American flag doo-rag and stubble and everything.  And he's holding a tiny, fluffy bichon frise ON HIS LAP. And the dog is wearing a doo-rag and motorcycle goggles.

Awesome!

I'm back.

So. 

1.  I defended and passed my thesis prospectus, which now means I am officially allowed to start actually writing it.

2.  I took my comprehensive exams, which came out to a total of TEN SINGLE-SPACED TYPED PAGES.  My fingers were bloody stumps by the time the ordeal was over, so forgive my absence from here and any other place that would require me to type.  But I passed them with no revisions.  Found out at about 1 am the night before I was scheduled to move across the country, so it's a darn good thing I passed.

3.  Oh, yeah, I moved across the country.  My mom flew out to Utah to help me pack most of my things into an ABF trailer and the rest into my car.  We spent four days driving from Utah to Pennsylvania.  Here's how it went down:

3a.  Day one:  We were delayed fifteen minutes into the trip because UT Hwy. 6 was closed due to a truck carrying explosives that, well, exploded in Spanish Fork Canyon and blew a hole in the highway 35 feet deep.  We took Hwy. 89 south through some gorgeous country full of aspen groves and reservoirs, and of course we could only go about 35 mph so we arrived in Moab that night at 7:00 instead of 4:00 as planned.  We went to Arches National Park and saw the sunset against the rocks and arches, which my mother called  "Un-be-[really bad swear word-ing]-lievable" although she now claims to have no recollection of this moment.

3b.  Day two:  Had a nice little breakfast in Moab and then took off for the Rockies.  Driving up those mountains is pretty breathtaking, except that there was painting and construction nearly the whole way up them, which again slowed us down quite a bit.  We also discovered that we hate Copper Mountain, Colorado.

Dear people who planned Copper Mountain, Colorado:  When you put a sign in a roundabout that says "Exit," kindly refrain from putting "Do Not Enter" signs at every possible exit from the roundabout.  Also, when you put up signs that say "Restaurants this way," please refrain from lying to me about the location of these alleged restaurants.  Also, when you put up a sign containing the gas pump icon at your exit, please actually HAVE a gas pump somewhere in your town.  Love, Audrey

We drove until we were really, really tired, which happened to be in Colby, Kansas.  Evidently a lot of other people got really, really tired in Colby, Kansas because there were no hotel rooms there, except one last room at the Country Club Drive Motel.  This motel features an adorable décor that I christened "101 Ways You Can Decorate With a Jesus Fish."  It also features rooms with front doors that don't close the whole way.  Your stay does not include a continental breakfast, but it does come with a complimentary bare-chested, pot-smoking biker who will grin lecherously at you from atop his Harley-Davidson while you unpack your things, and ask you if you've ever been to Sturgis, South Dakota and would you like to play him a song on your guitar.  Then, he will cough up half his lung at your feet.

3c.  Day three:  Kansas is very flat.  So is Missouri.  And sometimes it rains torrentially there, so much so that you have no choice but to get off the highway and pull into a Sonic and have corn dogs and milkshakes until it stops raining.  And then sometimes it will trick you into thinking it's done raining just until you get back on the highway, when it will start raining torrentially again, until you decide to pull off and stop for the night at a really expensive Days Inn with a lake view and a pool directly outside your door, at which point it will stop raining for good since you have already paid the $87 for the room.  Naturally, then, you are left with no choice but to go swimming with your clothes on, order in pizza, and eat it in bed while watching Ray on the free HBO.

3d.  Day four:  We got up early and drove downtown to see the big arch in St. Louis.  Then we drove until we got to Fishers, Indiana, a suburb of Indianapolis and the town where my dad grew up.  We drove past his old house and there happened to be people in the yard so we asked if they would mind if we took some pictures, and it turns out that they've been living in my dad's old house since 1967 when his family left.  They were the nicest people and talked to us for over an hour and told us all about the town and how it has grown since then.  On our way out of Indiana, we had to stop at While Castle and get a bag of ten little hamburgers so we could see what my dad has been talking about since 1967.  I think they must have tasted better in 1967.

We made it to Pennsylvania right around dusk and then had to negotiate the PA Turnpike in the dark, which was incredibly scary because that road is curvy and fast and full of very large tractor-trailers and we were really tired by that time, but determined to get home.  Thankfully, we made it, and now I have joined the ranks of twenty-somethings who finish shool and move home to live with their parents because, something.

4.  Being back in Pennsylvania is good but stressful because I'm twenty-something and done with school and again live at home with my parents.

5.  I started my new teaching job this week.  I have insurance, people!  I also have a week of inservice meetings that allow very little time to set up a classroom and get a system and plans in place.  School actually starts next Tuesday the 30th.  Don't be surprised if I disappear again for a while until I've got the new job all figured out.

6.  I'm sure there's a babe out there for all of us.  Peace out.               

My Own Private Idaho

Last weekend I drove up to Pocatello, Idaho to visit some friends and attend the blessing of their new baby.  The drive up there is very scenic and because there is pretty much nothing in southern Idaho you can drive 90 mph and not even worry about getting pulled over.  The bad part of there being pretty much nothing in southern Idaho is that about 2 and a half hours into the trip, my CD player overheated and I had to find something on the radio.  For my listening pleasure, southern Idaho offered me A) static at multiple frequencies, B) three or four stations of beer-drinkin', dog-howlin' country, or C) "Baby Got Back" featuring the posterior-obsessed Sir Mix-a-Lot. 

Surely you can guess what I chose, and people, let me tell you that is one dirty song.  The last time I heard it I was probably in ninth grade in a gymnasium full of squealing pubescents and even if I had been able to hear dear Sir's lyrics, I wouldn't have quite gotten the drift when he said, "Well I'm long, and I'm strong, and I'm down to get the friction on."

I soon realized I was going to have to amuse myself in some other way, so I started watching for interesting license plates again.  This being the Book of Mormon belt, I was not surprised to see a car with Utah plates that said, "JERICHO" or a minivan with Idaho plates spelling out "PRAYERS."  I tried really hard to get a picture, but that's not so advisable at 90 mph when there is the possibility that an elk will jump out onto the Interstate and mangle you at any second. 

I like to play this little game with myself where I try to guess what kind of person will be driving each car and if their face will match up with their bumper stickers or license plates or whatever.  When I saw the "PRAYERS" minivan I was imagining a middle-aged, sweet-looking lady with puffy hair, or perhaps a cute little balding grandpa.  Well, I am probably going to Hell for the thought I had when I saw the driver, which was "Honey, you're gonna need a lot more than prayers if you're going to go driving around with a femullet like that."

(NOTE: For a thoroughly enlightening education on femullets, click here.)

Home, Sweet Home

On Wednesday night, I arrived in Pennsylvania for a visit to the house I grew up in.  From the moment the plane landed at BWI, I have breathed easier, been calmer, and felt happier.

I have also been more patient.  Case in point: Yesterday morning, after sleeping for TWELVE LONG AND GLORIOUS HOURS, I opened up my bedroom door and stepped squarely into a pile of what I can only assume was cat vomit, as it was full of spittle and gooey things and I know I certainly didn't leave it there.  I cleaned it up and headed downstairs to the kitchen for some breakfast, which was delayed because I had to take care of the little present my parents' cocker spaniels left for me -- a veritable Lake Superior of pee and a charming little trail of turds leading to the back door.

Thankfully the rest of the visit has been just lovely.  When we got home from the airport, my dad fixed me a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled-cheese sandwich made with Gruyere, henceforth known as The Best Grilled-Cheese Sandwich I Have Ever Eaten In My Whole Life, Ever.  Then when I went upstairs to bed, I saw that my mom had left me a vase of fresh daffodils on my nightstand, with a little note that said, "We're SO glad you're home!"

So am I.  The lack of sphincter control in my parents' menagerie notwithstanding, there really is no place like home.