Are We There Yet?

Today, we’re in Wisconsin. It’s a balmy 60 degrees, and there’s green everywhere I look. Yesterday, we were in New Orleans.

Friday was Joshua’s last day of school. Once he came home, he and Tim (his dad) ceremoniously replaced the spark plugs and wires on our little red Hyundai. Despite its anti-climactic beginnings, the rest of the day turned out to be very pleasant. After auto-repairs, we piled into the truck and headed for Sarah’s. There, we ate barbeque, watermelon, and pastries with strong margaritas. Tim and Joette had flown in the day before, and a small group of New Orleans friends and family gathered to meet, greet, and say good-bye. We drove home sleepy and full.

Saturday began early with Joshua loading up the truck. By the time he was done, the bed was a solid mass of boxes filled with art supplies and books. Tim and Joette showed up with the UHAUL just before noon, and we stopped to have a quick lunch. Refueled, Joshua and Tim began packing the trailer while Joette and I cleared out the last of the upstairs. Once the rooms were empty, we swept, mopped, dusted, and polished until the house was shiny and clean.

Once we finished, we bathed and went to Mona Lisa’s little Italian restaurant for a last meal with Sarah. That night, Joshua and I slept on the floor of our empty room in our empty house.

Yesterday morning, we packed our last bags, picked up Tim and Joette, and left the city.

A few Op-Eds from the past few days…

Road Trips

In theory, the open road is romantic. In practice, 24 hours through the Mississippi Watershed bores me to tears. First up, we have the bayou; while this may seem novel to some, I assure you: after hours of poorly segmented roads and no air conditioning, the novelty quickly wears off.

By the time we arrive in Jackson, Mississippi, we’ve effectively recreated our very own swampy micro-climate within the two doors of our little hatchback. The fine hairs lining my face look as though they’ve been electrified by the wind and humidity, and my skin has a layer of oil, sweat, and tiny bug wings. Stopping for gas provides relief from the howling wind, but it’s a tossup when it comes to the heat: which is preferable? Being buffeted at 60 miles per hour by a hot wind heavy with recently evaporated swamp water, or standing in your own stink under the sun’s prickly rays?

It’s back in the car, and the seats are damp. Oscar sticks his head in over the stick shift and breathes heavily on our shoulders. It’s too loud to listen to music. It’s too loud to talk. Reading is out of the question. Both Joshua and I experience violent nausea when we combine forward motion and looking at a stationary surface for longer than two minutes. This includes finding the next song on the iPod.

The scenery? After ten miles of flat interstate lined by trees on either side, you’ve gotten a pretty good idea of what it’s going to be like for the next thousand miles. Memphis and St. Louis pass by without event, and by the time we cross the border into Illinois, I’m singing loudly to CDs I purchased in high school – Faith Hill, Natalie Merchant, Ani DiFranco, Dixie Chicks, and Christian pop (eclectic, I know… Clearly, I developed discerning tastes early.) – to stay awake. That, and slapping my own cheeks, prying my eyes open with my fingers, and pinching my arm flesh.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to confess that I’m a terrible driver. I’m easily distracted, and I could never be accused of being overly meticulous. On long trips like this, it also becomes apparent that I lack endurance. After an hour and a half, I’m toast. Joshua is truly my knight in shining armor. He’s got a lead foot and longevity to match.

Which raises another complaint in my litany: sleeping in the car. First, let me just say that I have an uncanny talent for sleeping anywhere on any surface. It’s a gift. While this is undeniably true, and really, I can’t complain too much when I’m able to catch six hours of shut eye in an upright seat, with 60 mile an hour winds in my face and ears, and unbearable heat, but hey, that doesn’t mean that I’m immune to car-nap-cottonmouth-and-creaky-back-syndrome.

The border crossing into Wisconsin is deceptive. You may think that we’ve arrived in the Midwest, but no. There are 300 more miles.

Ok. I know what you’re thinking. Why am I complaining when I’ve been waiting for this moment for pretty much two years? You’re right. Moving on.

Refrigerators, Toilets, and Ovens (Weak of Stomach Need Not Read)

I am unclean. After I saw what hid beneath my refrigerator, toilet, and oven, I know that claiming otherwise would be dishonest. The debris - a collection of dead skin, pet hair, old food, cockroaches, toy cars, old mail, and mystery sticky - could have supported its very own little ecosystem.

Kind souls may excuse me for the hidden messes beneath my kitchen appliances, but I think everyone can agree that the not-so-hidden messes within are clear signs of poor housekeeping. After clearing out sauces and leftovers months past their expiration dates, what remained in the refrigerator was truly heinous: red sticky, wilted veggies, and the smell of rotten kidney beans. The oven was no better.

On the up and up, I used a bunch of highly toxic cleaners, and they worked fantastically. I even developed a sort of morbid fascination with oven cleaner. This time, I read the directions, and it worked fantastically (last time, it did a really fantastic job of eating through my skin): after ten minutes the noxious suds turned the charred remains of food into a gloopy sludge. Yum.

Packrats Part II

Two years ago, we packed everything we owned into our little red Hyundai Accent. I may have mentioned this. I mention it again, because in just two years, we’ve accumulated enough baggage to fill the cab a quarter ton truck, the Hyundai, and a 6 X 12 UHAUL trailer. We very nearly ran out of room.

VISAS Part II

From where I left off last, I believe we were taking a detour into Chicago. Thankfully, the paperwork for my driver’s license arrived last Monday. That night, Joshua and I went to Walgreens and took our passport photos. At home, we printed out our birth certificates, filled out the TraVisa applications on-line, and created a TraVisa ticket. The next morning, I brought my filled out driver’s license paperwork to a Notary Public and retrieved a fax from the Minnesota DMV that said I had been in their system since 2002.

At FedEx, I made copies of everything, crossed my fingers, and sent everything overnight delivery. With regular service and overnight return delivery, I’m happy to say that our Visas arrived at Tim and Joette’s today, just as they were arriving home from our cross-country trip. Despite my hodge-podge paperwork, everything worked out, and now we can go to India! The only slight hiccup is that our Visa expires on December 9, a few days before we had intended to leave. Luckily, we hadn’t already purchased tickets, so we’re fine. We just have a few more days to spend in England before we leave again for home on December 24.

Shout Out!

After two years of canned gratitude, you might think I would have moved on, but old habits die hard J I’d like to revamp this tired tradition and create my own: Blog Brag. In my Blog Brag today, I would like to give my most sincere gratitude to Tim and Joette. These two Superhero Superparents flew down to New Orleans to help us pack, clean, and move. They bore through grime (Sarah says that she’s seen cleaner bathrooms in bars.), heat (It was above 90 the whole time.), sweat (We looked like we had been swimming in our clothes a number of times.), oven cleaner (Tim actually is Superman. He didn’t even wear gloves, and somehow, the oven cleaner didn’t eat him. I think this might be because he has developed cleaning solution resistance. Clearly, I have a way to go before I develop the same thick skin.), uneven tongue weight, and 1,000 miles (see Road Trip) just to help us. They rock, and we couldn’t have done it without them. We love you, Tim and Joette!

In addition, I’d like to Blog Brag Yvonne and Dave. These two generous souls are not only adopting our pets for six months, but also donating the better portion of their basement and guest room to store all of our crap. If that weren’t enough, they also helped us unload the truck, car, and trailer in the pouring rain. You’re amazing! We love you!