Whoa! I tripped...again!

Soooo, I was supposed to go to Peru this summer and see the ruins with my best friend in the whole world. Whelp, my bestie decided to be difficult and reached right into her leg, gripped her tendons like a bull on it's way out the gate and ripped them right out of her leg. She always was difficult. In any case, there's no best friend trip without the best friend. She decided to heal the ACL and I decided to wallow in self pity and extra energy....

....

...yeah right.

Like I could sit still that long.

My hands started to shake right from the first day of summer vacation. I can't stay in pa! I recruited a friend of mine, rob, and we went to beautiful New Hampshire. Rumney, NH has a name for itself in the climbing world. Longest approaches to the climbs I've experienced on the east coast. Oy! But it helped keep the wanderlust at bay....for about a week. Then my guy, let's call him AWL. My family will appreciate that. Anyways, AWL and I saw there was a hurricane on it's way and thought the best possible thing to do would be to meet it at the jersey shore. That was a pretty good litmus test to his ability to deal with me for an extended period of time. I have already whipped out the sass and the sideways toe tap even WITH the arms crossed! AAANNNDDDD he didn't run away! I'm in shock!

Even a long weekend at the shore couldn't satiate the need to travel. I thought I could handle this!

Weeeellllll...

 I decided to test how much my guy and I could tolerate each other in an enclosed space for real. Naturally the obvious choice was to drag him out west to the home I wish I had. God save him. This is the big test...

We're still in PA. The land of my birth that I have rarely ventured from. Before we leave the place entirely, I was informed that I had to come to beautiful Morris, pa.  Family visits are a must. Along with a visit to see AWL's family, I got to see the ultimate man cave:

I mean, the "huntin cabin." There's no "g" I'm told. This was meant to shock the teacher in me I'm sure. But if you're going to visit bumbleflick nowhere you have to play by the rules of the great white hick :-)

  I loved it, of course. All bazillion spiders and beetles and god knows what unheard of man diseases there could be out there. Right next to a creek with the possibility of bears knocking on the door. No running water. Parking the car in knee high grass. I definitely found a guy that speaks my language.

Next morning, AWL and his dad set me on the back of a Harley and weaver me through the mountains to the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania. Angela, I know, don't chuckle at them. They don't know how awesome we are either. Or how massive the actual Grand Canyon is in reality. But this spot is gorgeous, even in the pouring rain.

We'll be crossing in to Ohio and maybe even Indiana by tonight. And do you know the best part of the whole drive?! I get to be in the passenger seat writing this time!

Here's hoping we both make it to California alive!

Cheers!

Drinking with your moral compass

So we were in the hotel of curiosity...

As it happens, in the coldest, Siberian-like state of winter, there is a blues bar....RIGHT IN THE HOTEL. Very curious, indeed. Nothing says Winter Olympics quite like the blues.

 I have come to love drinking with Daddy. He is perfect for this place, as he is a curiosity himself. I didn't realize how strange it was to have such a good relationship with your dad until college. College can expand your mind without ever stepping foot in the classrooms. I recommend college for that simple reason. Where else can you go to find a collection of people from all over the world (or at least the country) and LIVE with them and really learn about such a vast collection of philosophies and cultures and PEOPLE? The only time I experienced it to that level was my college life. I would give anything to have it back again. I imagine that is what it is like to live in Washington DC, except people have things to do. College is the casual Friday of life. People are friendlier, happier, and apparently have very little to do. (This coming from the Elementary Ed. major. I can just imagine the uproar I just solicited from the science departments, particularly PREmed. But then, those people are so busy, they probably never participate in casual Friday anyways. :-)

In any case, you may find the theme is quite obvious in this series of blog articles. My Daddy is amazing. He has tried to write his "musings" to his children every year the past few years and it has only inspired me more than his actions have. It is an extremely special thing to be privy to the thoughts of your moral compass. I have been validated in so many things that I thought MIGHT be true to his philosophies and I have become aware of so many other things I had not considered. Daddy is what everyone should have, a true example. He is not infallible. There is always something to be desired when it comes to a human and the life of that human. As examples go, however, he is far superior to anything I have seen or heard. Especially when it comes to sitting on a bar stool. You should definitely have a drink with your moral compass.

You'll come to find little nuances to drinking. It's not really drinking after all, it's socializing and relaxing... with liquid. At a bar, everyone is your friend (and a celebrity). Just because you came in with your Dad and his best friend, doesn't mean you can't turn to the person next to you when there is a lull in the conversation or someone goes to the bathroom! I love walking into a bar with three friends and walking away with a handful more. There have been more than one incident that I have gained phone numbers and networked a friendship at a bar. It's not weird, it's real. Angela and I promised a lady in Boston we were going on a cruise with her this summer. I still have her phone number. I promised a friend at a bar that I'd go to the New River Rendezvous to climb and it was the best experience I had last year.

Don't forget all the celebrities at bars. I think it's the dim lighting. All those gorgeous people...
We found the guy from the Green Mile. You know, that big guy who saves everyone by spitting out weird bugs out of his mouth?! This guy:



I swear. The bartender was Michael Clarke Duncan. His drink of choice was Jameson. We were best friends. He also owned the bar.

And then there's that moment when you are giggling incessantly because the bassist in the band is grabbing your hand and making you strum his strings.  Then you turn to look to your left and look as your moral compasss, the man who is supposed to set your standards in life and show you the way through this mucky world...he's cracking up! The bassist is flirting with you right next to your daddy, and he is beet red...laughing to the point you think he may have a heart attack at any moment. Your daddy is drunk Jax. He's drunk and now he wants a pizza. You're reliving your college days.

WITH

YOUR

DAD


Point proven Daddy: Never grow up all the way. Got it.

The hotel of curiosity

So we settled into our hotel at Lake Placid and I was quite pleased, but it really doesn't take much after being folded and packed into the backseat of a pickup. They handed me a key, which on its own is amazing. What hotel still uses keys? I guess the kind that don't "get a lot of our kind 'round these parts." BUT best of all it was on a carabiner. Its that natural. In the same way I always know where my car keys are, and how that comforts me because it's locked on, this carabiner said "welcome home."

(So much so, I had to take a picture)

Then we started investigating our rooms. I've moved around quite a bit in my short life and from experience and habit, I tell you this is one of the greatest joys! Going into prospective shelters and picking out "your room." Trying to beat your little sister to the best room in the house. Opening up every door to see what magical worlds might exist on the other side. And DRAWERS! Open the drawers! Who knows what you might find! A severed hand! A diamond ring! Dust bunnies! It could be anything! I'm still not sure why we were doing this. There were four children above us in line for the throne and there were definitely never 7 separate rooms for all of us. Obviously the little ankle biter was going to be in MY room, and I wasn't going to have a choice in where we were setting up shop.

BUT this is a vacation. One where I paid, therefore I get my own room! WOOOOOHOOOOOO! Finally! So much room for activities! It's like a surprise behind that door. It could be the magical door in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Mr. Tumnus could be in there! And with a key on a carabiner, anything is possible!

At first look, you think to yourself, "Ah, what a quaint little mountain town, this Lake Placid is. Just the essentials."

And then you realized you paid over 100 dollars for this one night...

in the downtown RESORT of a former Olympics town...and the remote doesn't work.

...and you may or may not be missing furniture...


...or at least a picture or mirror...

However curious it seemed at first, it was not initially noticed by me. After my experiences sleeping in my car, at truck stops, or in a hammock out in the woods all summer, this seemed pretty posh. Until Debbie Downer (I mean my dad) walked in and started giggling. "What is this place?!"

"I dunno, there's enough room for my snowboard to sit. That's good."

Interior designer Dad came to scope out my room and was just in absolute awe. "Take a picture of the end tables!" he said. "Do you believe this! They don't match! None of it does! It's like this hotel went to a yard sale at a beach town and picked up what they could!"

It truly was all scrapped together. I hadn't noticed...

I did notice that the intention for this room was to get extensive reading done in our one or two night stay, but not the usual Bible, or on rare occasion, the Book of Latter Day Saints. "No no, we foresake religion for...Stephen King!"

I bet they have a 13th floor in this hotel too...

Of course, beyond the unique yard sale room of curiosity, where thankfully there was no mirror, I was cold to my bones. Adjusting the temperature is such a treat in a hotel, because its not your electric bill buddy! Heat it up until it's a sauna!

....BUT wait...

Two heaters? No wait, I think that one is broken...

...and wait, this one...

How do you turn it on?
Which way is hot?
What temperature is it at right now?
Is it working?

This here is the real curiosity...the Russian Roulette of keeping yourself warm. You may be freezing yourself out after dinner, or you may be cooking yourself like a turkey...who knows if it's even on. Good luck and Godspeed!

Time for a drink!

Spaving

In my rush I forgot to explain SPAVING. This is a word that my dad has created to describe my mothers shopping habits. She SPends tons of money on good deals in order to sAVE money. Somehow, however, the bill remains over my dad's allotted shopping expenditure goal....which is to say $0. SPAVING ladies and gentleman.

Trips with Dad

I am a blend of both of my parents for certain. And both of my parents have very STRONG personalities. You'd be certain about that if you knew my Daddy. Perhaps you're questioning that about my Momma, but they don't know what they started when they combined their own stubborn personalities together. She may be quieter, but she IS. Momma is uniquely and quietly STRONG in personality.

I am already digressing...

The point here is that it's a competition to have a relationship with your parents when there are six of you looking for some kind of attention and some kind of unique bond. After all, the genetics are limited. We all came from the same two people. There is only so much rearranging of the code you can do. We certainly can't all be the favorite. That's Matt. Matt is the favorite, he's always been the favorite. My mom can try to hide it all she wants, but ask her what Matt was like as a child and she'll just say "he was my HAPPY baby. Always smiling."

 Do you know what she called me?

 Plate head.

I was 10lbs 4oz. of pure birth canal joy. I ruined my chances of being the favorite before taking my first breath. She doesn't have that glint in her eye when she talks about me when I was a baby. I can't imagine why not, between the fact that I made her lactose intolerant, had ridiculous ear infections and cried constantly. Still have the scar tissue on my ear drums to prove I had tubes in my ears. I was a pudgy big-headed gem. She passed me off to my older sister who needed a doll to play with.

 (Mom, it's all dramatic effect, I knew you loved me the moment you stuffed me in the pile of kids to get chicken pox so I could get it over with :)

And Daddy loves his Mattie too. Sure he had to give him three cars to total in two years and track him down when he sneaked out to Marsh Creek to do God Knows What, but seriously Matt is carrying on the fish tank dream. They go to the fish store twice a month to check out all the exotic fish that Matt will eventually kill. They're keeping the word "**spaving" in existence. They play ball with their respective dogs in the yard. Its cute. 

I mean Mattie Matt is hard to not love. He's really a great guy. He's always looking out for you and forgives you really easily when you're being a brat. He makes everyone feel special like when he calls you Jacks Sprat. AND MAN he gives great hugs. I'm just saying, I understand.

I am, by no means, the bottom of the six. Mainly, because the rest of us are pretty tied up with all of the antics we've put our parents through. (Except Dan.  I'm pretty sure he's second in command on the rankings. State Champs. I've memorized the highlight film because my dad can't stop watching it.) So the last four of us scrap together what we can and make a competition of it. Mostly, though, we compete on who can mess it up worse. It's a fun game.

I do have one thing though. And that's traveling with Dad. No one else gets to weasel their way into more trips with Dad than I can. I've been able to sneak into Utah to visit Daddy more times than anyone else. I've sweet talked myself into "Dad and the boys" trips. (Alaska was fun guys, right?!) I've almost died following my dad into a crazy adventure more times than I care to recall, even from way back before I knew the rules of canoeing around barges in the Delaware river. If Daddy is Batman, I'm definitely Robin. I won't even mind sporting the tights and cape if it means we get to go somewhere or do something cool.

Since my dad retired, or as he calls it, made a career change; we've been taking about a trip a year. Last year we took our best friends out to the Grand Canyon and almost died for the billionth time. It was FANTASTIC! It was one of the reasons I decided I needed to experience more of my own country. This year, we took a weekend trip up to Lake Placid (and Old Forge), New York and played on snowmobiles. As in any trip one ever takes, it was filled with interesting places and experiences that perhaps will never be given any kind of justice in writing.

BUUUUTTTTT that won't stop me from trying! TO THE BATCAVE!

Before our trip even began, we lost a fellow traveler to the trials and tribulations of adult life that I so frequently try to avoid. Namely, responsibilities. Job responsibilities. Family responsibilities. Yuck.

And then there were three. Daddy, Rick, and I piled into the massive F-350 that's size is a juxtaposition to the seating capacity. As in all trucks, there are only really two seats. The two in the front. Sure sure, they put "seating" in the second row. It's about as luxurious as an old church pew after a long-winded Christmas homily from a deaf priest. So the long-legged older and wiser bulls sat stretching out like lions on the Savannah up front while I snuggled with six or seven bags with more corners than are logically allowable for cube shaped luggage. I had room for half of me. Let the 8 hour ride commence! Ever so often the old bulls would take it upon themselves to stretch their necks and turn to check the hand they could see stabbing through the piles upon piles of travelling necessities. There's still a pulse! Squeeze my hand if you need to breathe or go to the bathroom!

There is very little in the way of obstacles if it means I get to visit something new and different. I may have developed the beginnings of a hump on my back, but all for the glory of the road!

We arrived to magical Lake Placid around 4:30. It was like coming upon the North Pole. Sleepy with Sandman snowflakes sighing through the atmosphere, we came upon the luxurious downtown village hotel. By luxurious, of course, I mean it had a roof and rooms and free coffee. Poor Jerry, the desk clerk who undoubtedly was not ready for my Dad to come huffing in, did his best. You see, it's hard to park a farm truck anywhere but in a field or a superbly long driveway. Parking it in a "city" is just laughable. Then you add piles upon piles of snow and a tiny parking lot of about twenty spaces serving an entire downtown hotel. You get a very flustered and severe Daddy on your hands.

This is where the relationship of Rick and Dad starts to show. Rick volunteered to get out of the nice cozy truck and plunk down to the hotel to see about parking. Rick is always so generous with his expectations and considerate of what other people are feeling. Rick is the good cop. He politely rings the bell. Not too harsh, just enough to be noticed. Really just a tinkling to the ear. He kindly asks for Jerry's name first. (this is a proud habit of Rick's, he always recalls everyone's name) He asks about a recommendation for parking because we have a large truck and the parking lot appears to be full. Jerry points us in the direction of the municipal lot and Rick is happy and willing to report this back to Daddy.  ENTER BAD COP. He can't help it. Daddy has an impressive ability for thinking through logistics and an immense distaste for obstacles keeping him from naps. Not a good combination. Jerry gets "the look."

"The look" has famously made businessmen and employees break into instantaneous inexplicable sweat attacks. I've seen grown men on the verge of tears without exactly knowing why just because my dad gives them the stare down. I'm pretty sure my dad negotiated down a hot tub salesman with such intensity that the contract of sale included the man's resignation. I've witnessed car salesmen scurry out of their offices for backup because they couldn't concentrate on the math with my dad staring them down with "the look."

Jerry broke into a sweat and a stutter started to develop half way through the interrogation of said municipal parking lot where one would have to move their vehicle in the afternoons because it becomes a private lot. Wrong answer Jerry. Wrong answer.

Daddy never really yells. He speaks. slowly. deeply. glowering. It's absolutely terrifying. Jerry knows. He scurried away like all those car salesmen before him and tried to figure his way out of this predicament. I'm pretty sure he was trying to lift people's vehicles out of the snow and scoot them over so my dad could park his truck in the front row. Too bad he's no superman. That would have been nice.

Turns out the municipal parking lot wasn't so bad. Also turns out that we got front row parking at the hotel the next two days because Jerry just loves my dad that much (and apparently managed to dismiss the other cars in the lot for the next day). Also, Jerry seemed to have lost a few pounds by the following day. Something in how my dad threatened that he never would have ever come here if he knew about the parking situation in a downtown hotel really stuck with Jerry. I understand. It feels a lot like not being ready for the President of the United States. It's not really your fault, but all the same, disappointing the entire country can really affect you.

Rick and I cringed inside and acted nonchalant. I think I began whistling and strolling the tiny foyer, really inspecting the inside of my coffee cup; curious about how the free coffee could be so hot. No one likes seeing a man under duress. Especially not when it's because of your relative. Yet, the benefits of travelling with someone who can throw his weight around allows us to forget about the uncomfortable moments. And honestly Jerry, whats with not having parking for trucks in UPSTATE NEW YORK?! We loved Jerry for the rest of the weekend. He really was a super nice guy and we chatted with him every morning we were there. We certainly did leave him with an impression though.

TO BE CONTINUED...

I tripped and fell into a Disney Pixar movie!

I am in the mood for magic. Makes you wanna watch a Disney/Pixar movie. Which brings me to the time I drove right into one. Just imagine yourself, like good old Roger Rabbit. One moment you're just driving along, then slowly things start to contort and reform into animation...

It's a place, or rather, set of places along a long and lost road called Route 66. It's a magical land in the United States of America that will have you travelling back in time. So, off Hobbes and I went. And in the great words of Doc Brown:

"If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits 88 miles per hour... you're gonna see some serious shit."

I totally did. I went to the past, and Back to the Future, and into a mix of the two.

Hobbes is  no DeLorean with the awesomely 80s doors that rise up to the sound of Transformer hydraulics, but he did his job. And to be honest, we weren't hitting 88 miles per hour, because when you are on America's highway, you cruise. You stick your arm out the window and let the dust mix with the whipping tendrils of your hair. Hobbes bobbed and grooved to the oldies, because what else do you play on Route 66? I just let the sun bleach the world in front of us and you just can't drive through dusty old Arizona in this way without a true, broad, "everything is just peachy keen" smile on your face. I stopped in to a "middle of no where" mom and pop store, grabbed a six pack.... of root beer (duh!) and sat it in the seat next to me. Popped a top, and continued cruising and collecting freckles.

Also, driving thousands of miles with the windows down is not recommended for beauteous luscious hair. I don't care what you see on the Garnier Fructis commercials. THIS is reality on the road. BLEACHED KNOTTY, but happy. In fact, A LOT of times, it had to be at least 1/4 of a bottle of conditioner a night to get my hair smooth enough to run my fingers through it without getting bitten by Medusa hair snakes.

 I started off on one of the largest loops on Route 66. I was unaware, for this reason, that Route 66 doesn't exist in it's glory and natural form as it did years ago. There are large and small loops all across the country off of the evil highway 40, that any good Pixar movie watcher will know, destroyed the historic route.

If you don't believe me, read the museum sign. It took FIVE highways to replace this amazing piece of engineering. FIVE. The largest being Route 40.

The sad and wonderful part of the deterioration of Route 66 is that you get lost a lot, because if you don't pay ever so close attention to it, it disappears on you. And sometimes when you DO pay extra close attention to it, it disappears anyway. Moral of the story, I got lost A LOT and it was SO MUCH FUN! There was one point in the road that it literally deteriorated right in front of me. It was a road, then, BAM! Pot Hole, BAM! BAM! Then BAM! BAM BAM! It was pothole filled and crumbling! Slowly it crumbled to dirt, and then to no road at all. It disappeared before my very eyes! All that was left was a forest of bramble and abandoned shops and gas stations. If we all have to live through a zombie Apocalypse, I feel like this is how life will deteriorate. Slowly the modern age will just be overcome by nature and time and wash into memories.

Even after driving thousands of miles, when you drive on this amazing road, you could go all day in the middle of nowhere because the most amazing things happen, the most magical things happen on Route 66. You just can't help but wander around, pop into shops, museums, dinosaur attractions, truly American wonders. Then you let the sun go down on your day warm and satisfied, and THAT is a truly American wonder as well.

One of the most amazing things that happens on Route 66 is that things pop up in random places along the road. One moment you're in an old black and white movie with your hair blowing in the wind singing all the classics, the next moment your neck gets a bite from whiplash and you nearly drive off the road with your head out the window in the complete opposite direction because you're pretty sure you just saw "Mater" in someone's back yard! THAT WAS HIM! REALLY HIM! Oh My God! THAT MOVIE IS REAL!

They pop up EVERYWHERE! And you double take every time! You could be touring a natural dry cave in New Mexico, and then sneaking in between old junky cars is the firetruck that's afraid of everything!

And you start shouting random things like "Luigi! It's a FERR -Ahhhh Ree!!

I started playing, "What's that movie?!" with my family. I was texting them pictures of all the things that reminded me of CARS and I even took pictures of a Circle K to see who knew the movie Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. (Best Keanu Reeves movie I've ever seen, Pssshhhh Matrix).

I was free wheeling through some kind of "Roger Rabbit" effect. The cartoons were all coming to life! I imagined the Goofy short films where he's driving through the desert and has all of these Jekyll and Hyde moments with fellow highway travelers!

I may have needed to lay off the root beer, or drink more water. It may have been the heat of the day, but it was wonderful all the same! Traveling through time and space and reality!

I did actually do some research on the road. The movie, Cars, has a town called Radiator Springs and it does NOT in fact exist. You would have seen pictures of me there if it did. Radiator Springs is actually cooler than existence, however. It is like a compilation of places that DO exist all in one town to demonstrate the nostalgia and uniqueness of the time period. There was a website I followed that showed you where you could find specific parts of Radiator Springs out on the road:

http://route66news.com/2006/06/09/a-route-66-guide-to-the-cars-movie/

AND Route 66 isn't complete until you've visited a half a dozen road museums. The best part of these museums are the amazing people tucked into the back corners. I toured the museum in Arizona with a fragile old man clad in a weathered old brown pant and jacket complete with newsboy cap. He was in charge of collecting personal artifacts like letters and postcards for the museum. In the other one located in Oklahoma, there was an amazing lady in a bedazzled Obama t shirt who retired from teaching to man the refurbished malt shop. We chatted about teaching and she played me a song on the jukebox while I put my pin on the map on the wall. People from all over the world had marked where they were coming from, some almost across the world.

And then in the middle of nothing, Texas. Cadillac ranch. It is actually outside of Amarillo, but honestly that's just a lesser level of nothing.

Nothing says art like non sense graffiti in half submerged Cadillacs. It actually is pretty wonderful. Even as you see these images, it looks nothing like this anymore, because it's been painted over by more tourists.

It's funny, I passed this place twice. Once without even realizing it and a second time actively looking for it. And that's the thing about it. Things come up and emerge off the side of the road just like that. You have to pay attention. That's the magic.