Adventures with Ivory: Back in the Ville

The Annual Returned Peace Corps Volunteer meeting was going to be held at Vanderbilt.  How could I not go?!

So I called up my friend MattE who had been asking me to come visit him in Nashville.  (He’s currently working on his 3rd Vanderbilt degree, a PhD in Political Science to go with his Masters of Divinity and his law degree.)  It was the perfect trio – MattE, Peace Corps, Vandy.

So I got in Betty and we headed down, and down, and down, until we arrived late Wednesday night, hot, sticky and smiling at Cafe Cocoa where MattE and his friends were gathered.

During the day, I went to the Peace Corps events and got to meet up with some people at the law school that I like to say hi to when I’m in town.  MattE and I were able to hang out in the afternoons and evenings.  He showed me all the changes that have happened in East Nashville – it’s going from ghetto to Hipster-ville a block or so at a time.  We went to a number of restaurants, ones I’d been to when I lived there and ones that were knew to me.  And he introduced me to the girl he liked, who was his girlfriend by the time I left. ;)

MattE just bought a house a few weeks before I came down.  It’s super cute, and he has it really well setup.  It doesn’t look like a bachelor’s pad at all.  It even has a library with patio doors that go out onto a deck, and a very nice guest room with an antique bed he and friend assembled.

The Peace Corps events were fun, too.  I found a friend from Cali, the president of the NorCal RPCV group, and we were able to hang out a bit.  He introduced me to some other RPCVs he knows, one runs a chocolate company based in Madagascar.  Neat.  I met lots of other RPCVs over the weekend, including some that served in Nigeria.  It was interesting to talk with them because they served in the 60s.  The city I lived in in Nigeria wasn’t even built until the 90s.

I also met some recently returned volunteers from Zambia!  I know Zambia’s changed a lot in the past ten years; that much I can tell from Twitter.  It sounds like the program I was part of in the Peace Corps has also changed a lot.

Overall, Nashville was a great trip.  I had a lot of fun, enjoyed beautiful weather, saw old friends from different areas of life and picked up a present for Mzzzz Jones’ expected little one.  I also found out about some opportunities to go back to Africa in an IP context…

Adventures with Ivory: Iowa

It’s a common response when someone tells me where they grew up, “oh! I’ve been there on vacation.”  It seems to be especially true for random towns in Iowa.  This summer, my little vacation to Iowa was a tad less random.  I went to visit Orgfish, one of my dearest and bestest friends.

We met a long, long time ago.  My family had just moved to Cudahy and I was down at the park enjoying the giant swingset.  According to Orgfish, I was jumping off the swings, landing on my head, and going back to the swings to do it again; and she thought, “that’s great. I want to be her friend.”  And we’ve been friends ever since.

Orgfish and Mr. Orgfish welcomed me gladly to their awesome home and we spent the weekend relaxing and having fun.  There were two barbeque parties, a cute movie, some games, and plenty of exploring.  We did some antique store pursuing in Kalona, quilt capitol of Iowa.  The sidewalks are decorated with “quilt squares” made out of bricks.

We even checked out the African American Museum.  Now, you’re probably thinking what we were thinking, “An African American museum in the middle of Iowa?  How good can this be?”  Well, it turns out the answer is “very good.”

The museum was created by Cedar Rapids’ African American community to showcase the history of the local community.  It does this by placing the local history within the wider African American history and within the even wider African-rooted culture.  Half of the museum is the permanent exhibit that takes you from the slave trade through today.  The other half is temporary exhibits.  We were lucky enough that the temporary exhibit was on African American music.  (And the hip hop display featured lots of Creative Commons licensed photos!)

It’s very well done and very interactive.  You hear about how awful slave ships were and see illustrations of people crammed together, but it doesn’t really hit home until you lay down on the planks and realize the person above you is going to poo all over you, and you’re going to poo on you and the person below you, too.

In addition to laying on the slave ship, we played African drums, participated in a sit in, added graffiti to a wall, DJ’d, tried on football helmets, pretended to fly an airplane and plunked around  on the piano.  I had a little trouble getting out of the airplane.

 

(Orgfish is participating in the sit in. I’m the mean cafe worker refusing to serve her.)

It was a fabulous trip and a great time hanging out with great friends.

A Bus to Texas

Last month, I went on a mission trip with a group from across Wisconsin.  The pastor at our church asked for some reflections on the trip.  Mommy asked for those reflections to go here.  And since I’m (*cough* sometimes) a good girl and (*bigger cough* sometimes) listen to my mommy, here they are.

It seemed so strange Monday morning, to sit at a table eating breakfast alone instead of sharing the meal with 49 friends. After the wonderful week of egg bakes, casseroles and other delights from the oven, my bowl of knock-off Cream of Wheat was less than inspiring. Yet as wonderful as the previous week’s cooked food had been it hardly compared to the other food that had sprinkled the week in abundance.

Mind, body, spirit – that other important trinity – to have every aspect well-fed on one adventure is a pretty amazing feat. I went for the body-feeding, the hard work, the heavy lifting, the sweating, the dirt, the pleasant exhaustion of tired muscles. There was plenty of body-feeding, both in the way I expected it, full of grime and aches, and in the many delightful meals. For what is a gathering of Methodists without hearty casserole bakes dripping in cheese? But there was more, so much more.

There were the sort of obvious spirit-focused meals: devotionals, hymn sings, worship service. The sorts of things you know are supposed to uplift you and make you feel warm and fuzzy and close to God. But, the real spirit food came from outside these events. The way the community embraced us and the work we were doing, the way they supported us, donated supplies, fundraised for the projects, visited us, even just in how they knew we were there and welcomed us. A talent show where laughs were shared. Games played together, teaching, learning, and having fun.

And most importantly, the easy way in which we could talk to each other and to those we met, about our lives, about our thoughts, about our troubles, about our views on God, with no anger, no pretentiousness and no hostility. It did not matter that we did not all agree. It did not matter that we came from different denominations or different parts of the spectrum within the same denomination. We could share; we could talk; we could be together and yet be different. Conversations that fed our minds and our spirits – a rarity certainly worth two days on a bus.

I left Texas on Saturday morning with paint covered clothes, sore arms, an over-whelming feeling of excitement and happiness and 49 friends whose names and faces I may forget, but whose spirits will remain with me always.

No Place to Pee

It was our first week in Zambia.  Our third day, actually.  Site visit; our first taste of “real Zed.”  We were divided into groups of three or four and sent out with the PCVLs (Peace Corps Volunteer Leaders who were each in charge of a province) to visit currently serving volunteers at their sites for a few days and see what it was like to live as a volunteer.

My group was going to Northwestern Province, an 11-hour drive(covering 372 miles) just to the province’s capital, Solwezi, and then another 9 hours out to the volunteer’s site the next day on mostly dirt roads and bush paths.

The first day was long and fun.  The second day was long and not as fun.  On the first day, we were on main highways; we stopped at small roadside restaurants and ended the day at the very nice PC house where we had electricity, plumbing and beds.  The 10 of us, packed in the Land Cruiser with camping gear and our luggage bags, rode along excitedly.  We sang along with the PCVL’s cassette tape of 80s hits and oohed and awwed at the gorgeous country-side.

The second day, we left the main highways and headed onto the very bumpy dirt roads.  We drove through thick grass and frightenly close to trees.  The countryside was even more gorgeous but also more intimidating.  Vegetation was thick.  The road disappeared behind and ahead of us.  Red dust swirled all around and coated the vehicle and everything in it, including us.  As we passed near villages, children ran alongside the Land Cruiser yelling “Byepi! Byepi!" (hello) and “Muzungu! Muzungu!” (white person).  Some of the other trainees yelled back out the open windows, “Byepi"!’  Waving as enthusiastically as the children.

My daddy raised us to always use the restroom before getting in the car – we took lots of road trips as kids – so I’d taken care of that before we left.  But on this day, there were no roadside restaurants to stop at.   We stopped a few times for “restroom breaks” that consisted of pulling over to the side of the road.  I was amazed at how easily the other female volunteers in my group could exit the Land Cruiser, wander off into the grass, and take care of the business.  I stayed close to the vehicle and waited.  The hours ticked by, 3, 4, 5.  It wouldn’t be long before we were at the first volunteer’s site to drop off half our group.  She’d have a muzungu-appropriate bathroom, I was sure;  I pictured a full ceramic throne in a small hut.

Hour 6… Whew. We clamored out of the Land Cruiser and began unloading the items that belonged to the group staying there.  The volunteer had made us lunch so we stayed a bit and also received a tour of her two-room hut.  I asked if I could use her restroom and she pointed me to a small brick and thatch structure around back from her hut.  I snuck away and found the entrance. 
On no!  The small square shelter had a dirt floor and a small hole in the corner.  That was it.  “This is the bathroom?!”  I stood there for awhile, too embarrassed to go right back outside where the volunteer would know I’d been too scared.

We got back in the van and headed to our site visit location where I hoped I’d have better luck.  Despite the drastic increase in personal space after dropping off half the group, my physical discomfort was growing exponentially. 7 hours, 8…  It was only a couple hours to our site, I could make it.

“Well, I suppose this is slightly better.”  Our host had a stone floor and a bigger hole but it wasn’t less-scary enough to matter to my body.  9 hours, 10 hours, 11, 12. 13… That night was very restless and attempts to sleep did not go well.  The next day proved better.  27 hours…  Fear of the cimbuzi, conquered! 



At my own site, my Bataata built me a very nice cimbuzi, with a cement floor, a cover and raised feet holders.  By the way, there’s a darn good reason for women to traditionally wear dresses and skirts.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

Today is my Daddy’s birthday.  He doesn’t like having his photographs on the internet, so I drew this picture of him.


Daddy’s very fun.  He taught me how to ride a bike.  Something I miss very much (only crazy bike fanatics ride in the Bay).  And he taught me how to make oatmeal and Cream of Wheat.  He used to make those for breakfast for us before school when we were little.  They’re still two of my favorite breakfast foods.

He also taught me how to walk away from a fight…. but that one wasn’t by example.

My favorite memories of Daddy come from two places: the breakfast table and family vacations.   Daddy didn’t just make sure we ate breakfast before going to school; he made sure we were fully entertained as well.  I don’t think he was actually trying to entertain us; he was just being Daddy.  Everything from songs to reading bits of the newspaper to explaining things from whatever book he’d been reading lately, usually something about physics or the Civil War.

Family vacations were awesome!  Daddy would start planning months in advance, ordering AAA books and visitor guides directly from cities and towns we would be visiting.  He’d read to us the descriptions of museums we might see and blurbs about the towns’ histories, building anticipation for everything we’d see.

Every detail of the trip would be planned out, what time we’d leave home, when we’d arrive at museum A, when we go to zoo B, when we’d check into a hotel, when we’d have dinner.  Every route would be mapped out in his mind, planned based on his studies of the AAA maps that would soon be piled in the glove compartment.  Daddy always seemed to love planning those trips as much as we enjoyed actually going on them.

When it was finally time for the big adventure, we’d pile in the car with our carefully packed suitcases, cooler of snacks and busy bags for the back seats.  We’d watch the scenery go by, play Cows in the Cemetery, Road Bingo, the Alphabet Game and all sorts of other silliness that Daddy so nicely put up with.  And we’d sing! 

We went so many interesting places.  Old battlefields – while walking on the grounds of the battle of Tippecanoe, Daddy said to rather young me, “you know, people died where you’re walking,” – children’s zoos – the one in Fort Wayne, Indiana is awesome, – parks, houses some distant relative lived in, a town with my name, and museum after museum after museum.  We learned so much on those vacations.  One of my favorites was the Ball Glass museum in Munsee, Indiana, simply because it’s so ridiculous.  It’s a room full of glass jars. 

I love meeting people and asking them where their from and watching the priceless expression on their face when I say, “Oh, I’ve been there on vacation!”  That’s thanks to Daddy.  He rocks.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO

AN AWESOME

DADDY!!!

More posts about how great Daddy is:

Daddy picking us up from daycare

General awesomeness about Daddy

Breakfast songs with Daddy

The Perfect Present

I think it is ok to use the proper word as Mommy would likely not find it vampire-worthy, in this instance: The Gates of Hell. To Dante, a reason to abandon all hope. To that poor armless, legless boy in the ICP song, something he never saw coming. To art fans, it is magnificence and beauty. And to me, to me it is a great story.

The Search

“I called Tokyo and Paris, neither of them have one.”

“Darn, and I called Philadelphia, and they didn’t have one either.”

“You, know it’s possible there just isn’t one made.”

My friend, Ant, was attempting to help me find the perfect birthday present for another friend, Mr. Maintenance Man.  I knew exactly what I wanted to get him, but it was starting to seem that the perfect present literally didn’t exist.  A poster.  It seemed simple enough.  A poster of his favorite piece of artwork, Rodin’s Gates of Hell.

The birthday boy and my goat, which I named after him (for reason).

Ant and I had started by searching online stores.  Though not as ubiquitous eight years ago as they are today, there was still a pretty decent selection of stores.  But try as we might, we couldn’t find anything.  So we started calling the Rodin museums around the world and inquiring about their gift shops.  Nothing.

The Plan

Then. An idea.  It was 2am, or some other ridiculous time of night when only drunks and college students are awake.  The Rodin museum in Philadelphia, the only one on this side of the planet, has a Gates of Hell, outside, in front of the building.  A road trip!  Yes, that’s it, a road trip!  I’ll just go there and take a picture myself and get it turned into a poster.

But work, shoot, I have work, and I can’t miss that.  A weekend!  I can go on a weekend.  Where is Philadelphia?  Ouch, that far?!  I can’t drive there and back, and get to the museum while it’s open in a weekend….  I know, an airplane!  I’ll fly there and back in a weekend.  How much are flights?  Oh, that sucks.  Hmmm……

And then, the most brilliant idea ever: Greyhound.

Oh, and I’ll need company.

It just so happened that my very good, and practically life-long, friend, The Great Ecclestone was on AIM.

Hey, wanna go to Philly?  On a Greyhound?  To take a picture of a statue?

What?  Ok.

Alright, so the conversation was a little longer and convincing him might have taken a bit more work, but soon we were set.

The Trip

Early on Saturday morning ,we stood at the Milwaukee bus station.  I had never been in a bus station before and had no idea what to expect.   People and luggage were everywhere.  Buses rolled in an out, trails of fumes behind them.  The Great Ecclestone and I looked at the stack of tickets in our hands.  One ticket for every bus we would board on our 24-hour trip eastward.  The strip of tickets reached almost to the floor.

The Great Ecclestone and our Greyhound tickets.

Many filthy bus terminals and bathrooms fit for a lead-in to CSI later, we arrived at our destination.   Backs sore, feet and legs cramping, groggy and damp with sweat, we disembarked from our last bus into the hot Philadelphia summer sun.  Sunday morning, welcome.

The Rodin museum was only about a mile or so from the bus station and would be opening in a short while.  Time for some breakfast, and a change of clothes.

My SLR camera and about a dozen rolls of film jostled in my bag as we approached the large iron gate at the foot of the museum’s walkway.  No tripod, not allowed in the museum.  And there it was, shining brightly in the sun, towering far above me, immense yet exquisite in detail.  The Gates of Hell.  I began to take my pictures.

All day I stayed at that museum.  All day, taking pictures of The Gates of Hell and of the art work inside.  The Great Ecclestone accompanied me through the small museum and then headed off to the large art museum down the street.  Perhaps he even ran up the steps like Rocky.  I don’t know, I had a job to do and shadows to beat as the sun came over the roof of the museum  and illuminated bits and pieces of the giant brass sculpture.

Rodin sculptures: The Shade.

When I had finally finished my pictures, and my film, I met up with The Great Ecclestone again and we went to see the Liberty Bell.  We had to.   I mean, you can’t go all the way to Philadelphia for the first time in your life and not see the Liberty Bell!  It’s a bell.  With a crack.

Dusk began to settle over the city.  We grabbed some Chinese food for dinner and headed back to the bus station for our long ride back.  Our day in Philly was over.

The Liberty Bell.

Getting Back

After the ordeal of getting out to Philadelphia, we thought we had a pretty good idea of what to expect on our twenty-four hour ride back.  Boy we were wrong.  24 hours later, when we were supposed to be back in Milwaukee, when I was supposed to be on my way to work, where were we?  Stuck in a bus station, in Gary, Indiana.

Never been to Gary, Indiana?  Good.  Keep it that way.  Let me give you some perspective, some places where it might be worse to be stuck.  ….  Places where it might be better to be stuck.  A bus station in Chicago, a bus station in Lusaka, a bus station in Oakland, a luggage locker in a bus station in Oakland.  You get the idea.

Five hours.  Five hours until the next bus.  Our bus to Gary had gotten stuck in construction traffic on the highway and we had missed our connecting bus from Gary to Chicago.  Five hours.  Needless to say, I had to call into work stranded-in-Gary.

We did eventually make it home.  And the present, the present turned out spectacular.  He loved it, and the Philadelphia Chinatown fortune cookie.

The photo that became the poster: Rodin’s Gates of Hell.

*Note: the white edge is from a crooked scan and was not on the poster.

Alfred at Last!

The waiter came over to get our drink orders at this cozy restaurant in downtown Flagstaff, Arizona.  Munchkinhead ordered a pomegranate margarita and showed him her Wisconsin ID.  Alfred ordered a margarita and showed him her Iowa ID.  I kind of wanted to order something just to show my California ID, but the restaurant had milk.

Munchkinhead and I had met up with Alfred in the morning when she arrived in Flagstaff.  We were so happy to see her!  She had arrived much earlier than originally anticipated (she had spent the past few days driving down from Iowa), so that meant we had time for some fun before she had to meet with her new supervisors.

First stop, the Prairie Museum.  It’s in an old indigent hospital and covers the history of Flagstaff.  We saw an old iron lung, lots of saddle stuff, and some other old stuff.  And we found the kid’s room.  Hee hee.  We built Lincoln Log structures, played school, dressed up like pioneer girls, served dinner and had a gun fight.

 

After the Prairie Museum, we all headed to Alfred’s new home at the Museum of Northern Arizona.  While she met with her people and was shown around her new home, Munchkinhead and I explored the museum.  It’s a fairly small museum, most of the exhibits are about Indians, though there is some geology and dinosaur stuff.  Alfred is going to be helping the museum catalogue its new plant and bug finds.

When we finished with the museum proper, Alfred showed us to her new home.  It used to be a chicken coop, but you can hardly tell. It’s a nice dorm-like room in a long building.  Her room is closest to the kitchen and bathroom buildings.   We helped her unload her car into her new room and then shared the cake we had brought for her to celebrate her new job and new home.

Then we set out for our next adventure of the day.  There’s a 10-mile gravel road in the area called Schultz Pass Road.  It goes between the San Francisco peaks.  We really wanted to go on this road, but alas, it was closed because it was still covered in snow.  So, we took a few pictures with some of the signs and decided to go see a National Monument north of town instead.

The drive to the monument was very beautiful, with lots of neat mountain scenery.  The monument was probably beautiful too, but we didn’t see it because we didn’t feel like paying for entry to the park.  We headed back down the long road linking the park to the highway.  Then, there it was, directly in front of us, the other end of Schultz Pass Road, and it was open!

We spent the next hour or so exploring gravel roads, taking pictures with signs and kicking up a huge cloud of dust.  Despite the snow on the ground outside, it was too hot in the car to not have the windows down.  Consequently, dust filled the inside of the car, coating the insides of our mouths with the flavor of a  bowling alley.  The outside of the car, once white, became a chalky grey color.  It’ll need a good washing and vacuuming by the time we return to the Yay.

The remainder of the evening was spent helping Alfred settle in, grocery shopping, unpacking and dinner at that delicious restaurant mentioned above.  We bid Alfred an early goodnight at about 9 and headed back to our hotel to prepare for our sunrise departure and long one-day drive back to the Yay.

We Got Our Kicks, and Plenty of Great Pics

The second day of our journey took Munchkinhead and me Bakersfield, California, where we stopped the night before, to our destination of Flagstaff, Arizona.  On I-40 and Hwy 58, the drive between Bakersfield and Flagstaff is about 6 hours.  We took 12 hours; we didn’t take I-40 or Hwy 58 much at all.  We took the old Route 66, at least where we could, and National Trails Hwy.

Arizona has maintained Route 66, highlighting it as an historic scenic route.  Although the Route overlaps with I-40 in some places, it is still separate through all the downtowns which Route 66 passed through back when it was the main thoroughfare.    The towns, even if very small, are still there and functioning.  In one area, there’s even a town who’s main street is designed to look like an old western town.  And there are still Burma Shave ads along the side of the road.  I was so excited to get to see real Burma Shave ads!!!

Route 66 in California is a whole ‘nother story.  The road is in bad shape, very rough, lots of cracks and pot holes.  The former towns along the route are now empty shells, disheveled buildings with half-collapsed frames, graffiti covered bricks, piles of old tires and rusting vehicles of yesteryear.  Even though there are frequent ramps leading to and from nearby I-40, there is nothing for miles and miles.

The scenery however, was magnificent in both states.  Arizona’s high mountains through which Route 66 winds round and round, up and down, narrow road, sharp turns and the most amazing views looking down into the valleys.  Munchkinhead and I had a lot of fun looking across to roads we could just make out across the great abyss and predicting if we would later be on that road.  We often were.  We stopped at many of the turn-offs to take pictures.

California’s Route was flatter than Arizona’s, with soft hills Munchkinhead called “roly poly hills,” flanked on either side by large mountains in the distance.  In some places, huge, jet black rocks, protruded from the cactus covered ground.  We took  pictures of these so Alfred could tell us what they were and how they got there. 

One really nice thing about Route 66 in California, we were pretty much the only car on the road.  (This was certainly not the case in Arizona.)  Being the only car on the road, we were able to stop whenever we wanted to take pictures, including pictures in the middle of the road.  (see above)

We were also pretty much the only car on National Trails Hwy, a windy, two-lane highway running roughly the same direction as Hwy 58 in California through some large hills/small mountain areas.  It was a very good thing that we were pretty much the only car on the road because Munchkinhead was driving!

 

Adventures with Munchkinhead Part 1

Yesterday, my little Munchkinhead and I set off on a three-day tour.  Me behind the wheel and her as navigating skipper, we set off from El Cerrito down the coast of California.

Highway 1 from San Francisco all the way down to San Louis Obispo.  It was absolutely gorgeous!  The sea was a deep aquamarine with black rocks jutting abruptly from the frothy white waves.  The sky, a perfect light blue with light wispy clouds.  The day was sunny and warm.

We stopped several times along the roadside to watch the waves crash against the rocks, hike down to beaches covered in glossy pebbles or soft sand, and take pictures.  We laughed as a large wave crashed into the shore, sweeping away our newly made footprints, glad we had moved in time.  “Hey look at this big tubby one!” “or this cute little baby one!” we yelled to each other from above the elephant seals sunbathing on the beach, throwing sand onto their backs with their flippers.

Lunch was served on a deck along the shores of the Big Sur river.  We both had salads, yummy white people salads that were designed more to be decorative than to be eaten.

After finishing our stretch of Hwy 1, we jogged up a bit of 101 to Hwy 58.  We had no idea of the crazy adventures that awaited us there!  Curvy, narrow roads climbing huge hills, round and round, up, down, left, right, weeeeee. 

Munchkinhead and I are both a bit prone to motion sickness.  Some of those hills, as we went up, up and then crested the hill, our stomachs felt like they were gonig to drop right out of our bodies and be left sitting there at the top of the hill.  Luckily, a good supply of water, fresh air from the windows and the absolutely breathtakingly beautiful scenery kept us together.

Then we saw the sign.  A sign no girl ever wants to see, “Next services 82 miles.”  At least we had a full tank of gas.  (My car gets great gas mileage, amazing really if you consider that it’s a 17 year old boat.)  The countryside was beautiful.  We wound our way up and around high hills, going up over 2000 feet, and then winding our way back down the other side.

Needing that 82 miles to end soon, Munchkinhead found a great little shortcut that cut straight east while our hwy dipped down sound and turned north again in a V-shape.  So we took the shortcut.  Right through Chevron’s oil fields. Neither of us had ever seen so many oil rigs before!  The smell wasn’t great for our already slightly dizzy and nauseous bodies, but it was a neat shortcut.

We finally stopped for the night outside of Bakersfield, ready to continue our journey east in the morning.

Goodnight, from Conway T.

Nope, not Conway Twitty.  Conway, Texas.  That’s where I am tonight.  Last time I was in Texas, someone asked me if I was mixed?  If I was asked that now, I think I’d say “yes. 7/8 human and 1/8 tomato.”  That’s what happens after you drive 900 miles with your windows down, all during all the day.  By the end of tomorrow I may be an 1/8 bubble wrap.

Time for sleep, long day again tomorrow. I’m all set except for that rest I’m about to get now.  As I got into bed tonight, I had to think ‘what would munchkinhead do?’  The sheets are pink.

Moving.... on?

It's one of my last nights in my apartment.  Seems funny to say that since I'm not actually moving until the end of the month.  But, I'm leaving tomorrow and will gone for just over a week and then back for only a night or two.

Doesn't really matter though.  Hasn't felt like my apartment since I started dismantling it.  It's hard work, all this moving.  But it was nice to see some smiles today when I dropped things off at a few places around town.  It's funny how to me the recession means I can keep less, but to those running donation centers, it seems to mean they get less.  I'm surprised there aren't more people downsizing.  I guess most people are trying to sell anything they can for whatever they can get.  *sigh* oh well.

Anyway, tomorrow I head out for Cali.  I was super excited, now I'm just tired.  This drive is to get my car out there and get me up to Seattle for a conference.  After the conference is when I'll really move.  I think there's more to pack than I thought but I'm doing ok.  It's the stuff that's hard to pack until it's time to go: dishes, bedding, the few clothes that are left out, toiletries, the stereo.  You know, the really important stuff you use everyday.

I'll try to keep y'all posted as I'm driving down highway 40.

Hoppy Easter

[guest post by Daddy Bunny]

My mom seems to like to use me to deliver surprises.  When she came home for my Auntie Munchkinhead’s 16th birthday, she put me on Auntie’s sink and hid in the sewing room.  Auntie Munchkinhead came into the bathroom still rubbing her eyes from sleep.  “Daddy Bunny, what are you doing here?” she said to me.  Then she went into the hallway, holding me in her hands and saw my mom.  Group hug!  Mind if I kiss the rabbit?

Well, this morning, my mom got up very early, and before she went to get ready for church, she placed me outside my grandparents’ bedroom door with some candy in my paws.

Friday night, mom came home from church and started packing.  She was smiling so big!  I had no idea what was going on.  She usually tells me if we’re going somewhere.  She hadn’t said anything.  The next morning, she placed me and my sister, Whiskey, next to the bag she had packed the night before.  Next thing I knew, Whiskey and I were buckled in the front seat of the car and we were off somewhere.

Whiskey told me she guessed we were going home because she had said next time there was a visit to Grandma’s she wanted to go along.  I watched the familiar highway go past and decided she was right.  But then, our car got off the familiar highway.  We were on these teeny back roads, going through strange towns.  The stuff outside the window was all very pretty, but I had no idea where we were.

Turns out Whiskey was right.  After many hours we saw home.  We drove past it slowly and went to a gas station.  Whiskey and I were very confused.  We came all this way, weren’t we going to go home?!  Our mom got out of the car and came back sometime later in her pajamas.  Then, we went home. 

We parked down the street and walked up to the house.  Our mom had taken a key off her keyring.  She put the key in the lock, it didn’t turn.  She took another key of her keyring.  It worked.  Very, very quietly, we all snuck into the house.  Our mom took her shoes off as soon as she got in, picked us up and went into Grandma’s living room.

Whiskey and I were confused again.  I had told Whiskey that when we go home, we sleep in Auntie Alfred’s old room that now has two beds and this strange greenish color on the walls.  This was no bed in Auntie Alfred’s old room, this was the couch!  But the three of us piled onto it, covered up with Grandma’s orange afghan, and took a nap.

The next morning, Grandpa got up and saw me sitting outside his door.  He said, “there’s a Daddy Bunny outside our door.”  Grandma ran over to me, “if there’s a Daddy Bunny, that means Daddy Bunny’s mommy is here too!”  She picked me up and we started looking through all the bedrooms.  Nothing.  Then we went downstairs and looked.  Finally, Grandma found my mom, sitting at the breakfast table, dressed like the Easter Pirate.  (Whiskey wanted to be an Easter Bunny too, like me, so she was wearing the bunny ears and our mom was left with the pirate hat.)

Grandma was so happy!  It was wonderful.  Then Grandma helped me find my Easter basket.  It was full of yummy carrots. :)  Whiskey and I spent the day sitting before the fireplace, watching everyone play games and have fun.  Happy Easter!

A Doctor, an Engineer and a Vampire Walk into a Metallica Concert...

It sounds like the start of a bad joke, but it was a great night!
(And by "vampire" I mean Munchkinhead, not me!  I'm still just a law student.)

The History

Orgfish and I have been going to Metallica concerts together since we were sophomores in high school.  It seems each time we go, we add someone new.  So we assembled our usual group: Orgfish, me, Alfred, Munchkinhead and Dr. Beaker and added in The Great Ecclestone (and Foo Foo).  6 people, from 6 states, 1 city, 1 amazing band.

Metallica is probably the only show all three of us, my sisters and I, would agree to go see, except maybe for Sesame Street Live.  It's not that we don't have some other musical tastes in common, but those bands don't really tour anymore.  Metallica also has the unique characteristic of being highly loved by each of us.

The Show

The show opened with Call of Ktulu, which is actually one of my favs, and a lot of  special lighting effects.  I was quite relieved when the lazer light show ended and some spot lights came up on stage.  The lazer lights sort of pissed me off, especially when they brought them back at the beginning of Fight Fire with Fire.  The special effects were taking away from Kirk's guitar solo.  A band as good as Metallica does not need fancy light shows and pyrotechnics.

When the helicopter intro to One started in fairly early on in the set, Orgfish and I looked at each other in amazement.  At every concert we have attended, One has always been in the encore.  "What on earth were they going to play for the encore?"  Well, when the encore started, it was an even bigger surprise.  I had just turned to Munchkinhead and said, "they'll never play my favorite song (Loverman) at a concert," because it's off of Garage, Inc.  And right as I'm saying this, the band busts out with Die, Die My Darling!  And then they follow it up with Stone Cold Crazy!  I had always figured they'd never do cover songs at a concert.  Welp, I was wrong!  (For those of you that don't know, those songs are also off of Garage, Inc.   They are covers of The Misfits and Queen, respectively.)

The concert was part of the World Magnetic tour, the title coming from their newest release, Death Magnetic.  As appropriate, they played a lot of songs off the new album.  It was clear the audience wasn't really familiar with these new tracks yet, but it was also clear that we were all willing to get to know them.  This was a lot different than the last concert our big group went to together, where the new album was St. Anger.  I don't recall them playing too many songs off that album at the Summer Sanitarium show, but I do remember Orgfish and I both agreed the songs sounded much better live than on the album.  (For that concert Dr. Beaker, Alfred, a very young Munchkinhead and I loaded into the teen mobile and drove to Ohio where we met Orgfish and her friends Happy, PH and Not-Death (I don't remember his name, but I know it wasn't Death.  My favorite part of the trip was Munchkinhead walking around going "plan-e-tarium" to try to get us to go to the planetarium.)

The Snow

It started snowing during the show, and for some reason the parking garage was closed unless you had a special pass so everyone was parked in lots outside.  Our big group quickly set to work with ice scraper, drivers license, gloves and whatever else we could find to clean off Mommy's mini-van.  It didn't take long, but it take long to get out of the lot.  (Longer than it took to drive home.)  We were about to go lend our ice scraping assistance to another driver who was scraping his car with what Alfred thought was a Twister box.  (It turned out to be a pizza box; a little more reasonable to have in your back seat.)  But, someone with an ice scraper appeared out of nowhere.  Alfred did help clear off the windshield of the guys next to us, since there were only two of them and so many of us.

(I just had to include this pic even though Alfred's not in it.  You can see FooFoo's shirt, and there's something particularly eerie about Orgfish's eye peering over my shoulder, not to mention The Great Ecclestone's theatrical smile.)

It was a wonderful night with wonderful people and wonderful music.   The performance was great, the frozen custard delicious (you know we went to Leon's first!) and the company great fun.  I can't wait for the next tour!

SPECIAL! SPECIAL!

Announced today, Metallica will be inducted into the Rock N Roll Hall of Fame!  The day before my birthday! [(Anybody want to get me a really nice birthday present? ;)  ]
Photo credits: Dr. Beaker

south as in South

Like a couple of geese running from winter, Munchkinhead and I headed down south yesterday.  As we left our beloved cheeseland for the land of Uggs-ly, impractical boots and hidden foreheads, there was a certain sadness in our hearts.  More so in Munchkinhead's, who flat out said she didn't want to go back.  I was actually a bit happy to be headed south; most of my life is really in Tennessee now and I haven't really been there since early May.

Driving through Illinois (no traffic in Chicago at 8:30 on a Friday, nice!), Indiana and into Kentucky, we watched the outdoor temperature gauge slowly rise twenty degrees.  It rose another twenty for me between Lexington and Nashville.

We had a really nice trip, I think, even though we couldn't find a Fazoli's for lunch.  At least Burger King had a veggie burger for me and chicken sandwich for Munchkinhead.  Along the way we played two fun games.  First we played a new game that Katrina sort of made up on Christmas morning.  We call it "As In."  It's basically a homonym game.

The Beginnings of As In

In our family, we don't put names on Christmas presents; we put little riddles or clues.  The clues are supposed to tell you who the present is to and from and maybe something about what's inside.  Mommy's this year said more about what was inside than who the present was to, that made the little Elfkinhead's job a tad difficult.  (Although she also opened a present that actually said "Nathan" because she thought it had her name on it, so maybe the obscure clues didn't matter much.)

Several of the presents had cute puns on them.  One tag said something about one thing that "seams" like another, seamed stockings (for yours truly, of course!).  Another was about how the present would keep the receiver from being "board", a board game.  A third present said to "weighting for Christmas."

In each of these cases, while reading the tag, Munchkinhead clarified or tried to express the pun by repeating the word.  "Seems as in seams,"  she says.  Looks great.  Say it out loud and tell me if you hear any difference!

So that became our game on the road/rode.  Say a homonym, say 'as in', say its counterpart.  It's actually really fun, and you'll be surprised by how many homonyms we have in English!  Someone, eh hem, kept trying to use German words, too.  Cheater!

My Grandmother's Trunk

The other game we played was a classic with a slight twist.  I Unpacked My Grandmother's Trunk is a great memory game, and you can have as many people play as you want (well, I guess up to 26).  The first player says "I unpacked my grandmother's trunk and in it I found..." and then says something that begins with the letter A.  The second player repeats this and adds something that begins with B.  The next player repeats those and adds C, and so on through the alphabet.  When a player messes up, they're out.  Last one left wins!

But like I said, we made it a little different.  We did it in the style of Barbara Milne's Alphabet Song from the Sounds Like Fun tape (now on cd especially for Mommy's van.)  The Alphabet Song helps you learn your letter sounds.  It gives a word, repeats the word and then repeats the beginning letter sound.  It's a wonderful song. :)

The thing is, the words in the actual song are arranged so that the syllables fit with the beats.  We had a few problems with that.  Our game went something like this, "I unpacked my grandmother's trunk and in it I found an apple, apple, eh, eh, eh; banana, nana, na, na, na; cookie, cookie, kuh, kuh, kuh."  The worst was the letter L when Munchkinhead made us try to cram "Little Brown Tape, Little Brown Tape, el, el, el" into three syllables!  She won anyway, I put the igloo before the horse.  oops.

And We're Here!

Daddy Bunny and I have successfully arrived at our final destination!  Woo hoo!

At first, I think "wow, that really looks like an adventure."  Then I think about if Katrina made a map of her travels, and mine looks like piddly-squat.

Johnny Over the Ocean

The long journey is almost over. Only one more leg to go. I've been traveling for over a week now, with a few stops to barely catch my breath. Hope I have a chance to recuperate before I start work on Monday. Somehow, I doubt it.

But what fun!

And I'm Proud to Be a...

Still hanging out in Nashville for another day before continuing my travels. The craziness of the Bay seems far behind me. What a different world!

As I traveled across the country, the scenery changed, the people changed, the music changed, the cars changed, and values changed. In San Francisco, the City Attorney's Office was getting ready to defend the City's gun ban against the NRA's new lawsuit. In Wyoming, a senate candidate promised to protect the 2nd amendment rights of Wyoming's fiercely independent citizens. Wal-Marts, instead of billboards proclaiming Wal-Mart to be the devil, popped up along the highway. Bumpers on cars became visible. Diversity on the road increased, more American made cars, less European ones. I can't tell you the last time I saw a Prius or Volvo, but I'd bet it was still in California.

The diversity of this country really is amazing. How different people, look, dress, act. What they think, believe and dream about. The importance of families, careers, each other, self. Backgrounds, upbringings, futures. Flat corn fields, rolling hills, steep mountains, lakes and rivers, deserts and salt plains. It's all beautiful.

Both the variety in land and people gives American's a unique opportunity. If we don't like where we live, we can move. Yes, I know it's not always easy to just pick up and move. Yet, it is possible, and easier to move within one's own country than to a foreign one. No matter where someone chooses to go or stay, the most important thing is that they can be proud of where they live and who they are. That's the one consistent piece between all the places and people. That's how to find happiness.

I am very proud to identify as a Milwaukeean. And I can be proud to live in the South. But I've learned there are some places I could not be proud to call home. This is a good thing. It means I'm starting to understand myself, and how I can build a happy and fulfilling life.

The Life of a Player

No, no, not that kind. The good kind.

Katrina and I had so much fun at home. We helped Mommy with the laundry, watched the real Olympics, and had our own backyard Olympics!

While Nastia Lukin was winning the gold in the gymnastic all-around competition, Katrina was claiming golds of her own on the monkey bars. We both traded back in forth with first and second place in the monkey bar endurance trials, different swing styles. When we were younger, this event would have been a monkey bar race. Now it's just a competition to see who can get further across the monkey bars before falling off!

We also did a flip competition on the monkey bars. Katrina ran away with the gold, being the only competitor to do a decent flip and land on her feet. Daddy Bunny took silver. He had a good flip but landed sitting down. I got stuck on top of the monkey bars. Dangling off the edge with only my stomach supporting my weight, Katrina kept making me laugh. My shirt slid up and my bare skin stuck to the metal bar. I couldn't slide in either direction. I just hung there in pain, trying not to laugh. Finally, I pushed myself up and backwards, tumbled to the ground arms flailing, and laid there in a heap. This got me last place, a bronze medal.

I took badminton. We only played two sets in the match, because I won both. To be fair though, the games were close. Our badminton games were a little odd. One side of the court was smaller than the other, but it had a large tree in it. We figured this evened out the advantages/disadvantages. The bigger side had some bushes cutting into it and a table with our cheese and chips on it. All the rackets are a bit cock-eyed, and the birdie looked like it had been turned inside out a few times. But, we still had lots of fun playing!

We had an indoor sport too: the flying-monkey-put. Katrina got this great flying monkey as a good-luck gift at AYOP. What better thing to do with an elastic, howling, sling-shot monkey, than see who can sling it furthest across the dining room?

Mommy tried this sport with us, but she didn't do very well. I think I had a distinct advantage on the other competitors, having the longest arms. I could pull the monkey back further, and with our feet at the starting line, I could reach out more in front of me to give the monkey a better starting position.

And of course, every Olympics needs medal ceremonies! Here's a picture of the ceremony from the flip competition. As you can see, I am on the lowest "step".

Aside from the Olympics, Katrina and I also washed my car. The whole family went out to dinner. I visited Daddy at the office and Mommy at the bank with Katrina. I signed my will and gave Mommy all the information she needed to handle my accounts. Very productive day and a half.

Overall, it was a great visit home, and Katrina and I had tons of fun just hanging around.

Oh I Went Down South for to See My...

It's been such one of those days, I'm just posting the map and going to bed. Though I have plenty to say as soon as I have the chance!

Arrival #1

I crossed the Mississippi river from Dubuque, and there it was. The giant wooden sign, shaped like heaven itself, "Welcome to Wisconsin." It's always the same. Whether I'm landing at the airport after a year and a half away, or crossing the border in a car after a month, entering Wisconsin always makes me cry a bit. I'm just so happy to be back. And today was no different.

Although Tuesday had the most grueling driving, and Wednesday the most desire to just get where I was going, Thursday was the hardest drive. It was also the shortest. But as soon as I left Katie's in Marian, things were familiar. Places we'd gone on vacation, familiar highway names and numbers, the Dells, Madison, exits to my ballet class, to one job, to my college, to another job, the stadium, the bridge I painted on my hut wall in Africa. Everything I saw made me feel so close, yet I wasn't there yet.

The traffic on I-94 at the Milwaukee county line was stop and go due to construction. I could have taken I-894, but it's not the same. I've always used 794. I love the Hoan! When we were little, we used to beg Daddy to "take the stinky bridge" instead of I-94 home. We called it that because the sewage treatment plant is right next to it. But the view of the lake and downtown is absolutely stunning from that bridge. It's worth the occasional bad smell.

My drive across the country so far has been a really neat experience. The contrasts I have seen astound me, but I'll save the full blown analysis for the end of my driving trip. Wisconsin was just a lay-over.