American Road-trip, Part 4: Abundance

Recently I found myself musing on moments I had in the States last June, feeling lost among options. It happened often.

For example, I like keeping some snacks with me in the car when I'm on a road-trip. So I wanted to get something suitable. We were in a big box store, and I went to the grocery section. Snacks. Or wait. Nuts and Popcorn. Or wait. Cookies and Crackers. Or wait. Chips. 

These are all AISLE headings. Whole aisles full of so many choices my mind boggled. 

Convenience stores. Drug stores. Gas stations! Even on the highway, When there's an exit coming, you will see a bunch of signs telling you exactly what your choices are for food or fuel.

And the abundance went on. It's expected. I've lived with it. I understand it. I've just been away for so long it struck me differently. Not just "stuff" but convenience and availability. And assumed availability.

While we were on the east coast, a section of a major highway (I-95) collapsed in Philadelphia. We were in Delaware at the time, planning to drive up to New York in the coming days. Now this main path would be closed. I considered taking the ferry over to New Jersey instead and driving from there, but when we looked at ferry times, realized we needed a reservation. They were booked. Apparently everyone else visiting the Delaware shore had the same idea.

So, to avoid I-95 we hit the Jersey Turnpike instead. If you don't know, a turnpike is a toll road. On long toll roads in the States, service areas are spaced out every 50-90 miles, where you can pull off for gas or food without paying an exit toll. It's expected. 

The first service area had a sign up saying it was closed for maintenance. 60 miles to next service area. Which was closed, too. There was a ton of traffic. My guess is that a lot of people were diverted to the turnpike because of work on I-95. Finally, at the third service area we gassed up, then waited in long lines for fast food options. There were no tables so we ate outside by the car before continuing. 

We had assumed an American level of availability, and found ourselves with no options. One service center. It seemed almost un-American! This is why New Jersey has a bad reputation. 

Note: I've been to NJ before several times, and enjoyed my visits. I may have even taken the turnpike before; I don't recall. But it does have a murky reputation in the rest of the US.

American Road-Trip, Part 3: Hobbies

So, my brother-in-law has a new hobby: Making perfect ice.

I have not seen the results of this hobby, because we didn't visit their house, just met up at my mom's. I guess it is ice that is perfectly clear, with no streaks inside from bubbles rising to the surface? There's a specific way to do this. Apparently.

He's an engineer. I don't know if that has anything to do with it, but I do think it speaks to a mindset that appreciates technical challenges. So... perfect ice.

When he takes on A Hobby, it is one hobby for a duration. For a while, he brewed beer. Then he was making mead. I know he also enjoys researching the best ways to cook certain things. Like I say, technical, detail-based, precision tasks.

Someone else we visited works in the gun industry. I believe he tests new models of guns coming to market. He loves his work, and enjoys talking about it. I didn't understand a lot of what he said. He showed Brett some of his personal guns. So it's a job and a hobby!

One fun aspect of this trip was finding out about hobbies that developed during the pandemic. Good friends have developed their gardening in ways specific to their abilities. A self-proclaimed NON green thumb, she created a cactus garden. He grows strawberries. They planted a grape vine to grow over the arbor they built (it's not grown that high yet) and they added a decorative sculpture garden in one corner of their property.

Another friend has also been working on his garden, but in his case the big draw is a fire ring that will have raked, flag stone seating around it when complete. 

A good friend of mine who found herself gaining weight during lockdown has jumped on the fitness bandwagon, walking with friends, and throwing down an exercise mat at home to get exercise in inclement weather.

These are not the things we talk about during the occasional long-distance phone calls. Or if so, the topics don't bear the weight of the hobby. "What did you do today?" "Oh, I took a walk / worked in the garden / made ice." Then the conversation rolls on. That's why it was so great to actually visit with all these people. We can talk all the time, but seeing a person's life is a different level of communication.

It's the little things that make a person whole.

American Road-Trip, Part 2: Edibles

I'm not a drug person. Never was. Once, at a college party, the guy I was talking to invited me to join him in lighting up with some friends. I excused myself from the room until they were done. Now of course, marijuana is legal in some form in most US states, and easy to get everywhere. But I live in Vietnam. It's around, but illegal.

A few years ago, we were in Canada and shared a joint in a legal lounge. I didn't get much out of it. Not being a smoker, I probably did it wrong.

Now, in the latest book I'm working on, a character is given edibles from a friend. I don't explore this character's history with pot - she allows that she's not a "regular" user, but seems familiar with it.

During our trip to the States, I decided to do a little research.

First, I asked a grower about it and got some solid information about the different effects coming from the different strains. Cool. Helpful.

Near the end of our trip, I decided to try gummies for myself. A friend was buying some brownie bites from the dispensary at the same time. Not too long after I ate a gummy, back at their house, they offered me a brownie bite. Of course I wanted to try it! See, I had already forgotten this was A Drug. And that it was For Research. In my head, gummy candies and brownies are snacks. That's a hard idea to alter!

Two edibles in quick(ish) succession was a mistake. I'm just not used to trying to get high!

Sure, at first came a pleasant, light, buzzy sensation, but then it became unpleasantly like being way too drunk. Plus. I felt like lead. If I got up to move, I knew (did I?) that there was every possibility that I'd fall down, or vomit, or both. Brett - who had elected to stay sober while I experimented, brought me a slice of the leftover pizza, and after I finished my one beer I switched to drinking water. We were having a movie night, and I safely fell asleep there on the sofa during the movie.

Midway through the movie, Brett woke me and convinced me I might as well go to bed. I managed to get myself ready for bed and slept very soundly, never wishing to do that again!

The next morning, I was kicking myself for wasted research. I needed to know how to write about this! What if the brownie was the more potent edible? What if the late hour had conspired against me? And what about that beer I had early in the evening - the combination of alcohol and drugs is not in my book! We had some open time that morning, so after breakfast, as I was repacking our bags, I tried Just One Gummy. This time I could focus. It was morning, my head was clear, and I was without the audience of those sharing in our previous movie night. Plus, I was doing a task that I've done numerous times and knew how it should go.

While packing, I took notes:

• 45 minutes in, it was getting hard to focus. Visually and mentally.
• 1.5 hours in, that floating sensation kicked in. It was accompanied by a tingling in my lips.
• At 1 hour 50 minutes, my mouth was dry. SO dry! I drained my water bottle.

That's where the notes stop. I recall that, mid-packing, I stretched out on the bed and relaxed for a while. Did I sleep? If so, not for long. My nature is task-driven and I had a task. After finishing packing, I picked up the book I was reading and sat in a corner, in a haze, reading, until it was time to go. I was fine, but operating at low energy.

Overall, even a tiny little pot-gummy is too potent for me. Although I was able to move (no leaden sensation as of the prior night) and I didn't feel ill, it was no fun. I am in NO danger of becoming an addict!

And the research was worth it. They say "write what you know." I will be removing the drug parts from the book. It was all unnecessary to the plot, anyway. 

Have you ever done anything "for research"? Gone somewhere you wouldn't normally or tasted a food just to see? How did it turn out for you?

American Road-Trip, Part 1: No Home is Safe!

Last week we returned from our month long trip to the US. Rather than write a play-by-play, I thought it would be more interesting to write individual stories or perspectives. This is about being a house-guest.

If I've ever visited your house, just know that I've redecorated it in my mind. The habit started during my baby-sitting days in college and pops up from time to time. Our recent trip was prime for it!

Take the residence of certain friends, for instance. Old friends we've stayed with twice during our extended trips abroad. The guest room is clean and simple, while the house is chock full of collectibles - Alice in Wonderland, Wizard of Oz, movie memorabilia, games... It's a big enough house that all I've really re-done in my head is the room where we've slept. Each time, it turns into a yoga room. I'd strip away the carpet, remove the closet door (to store yoga clothes and gear) and probably set up a meditation corner by the tall window.

Given the space I'd always want a yoga room. Another house we stayed in had a screened-in back porch... which would be (and was, for those few days) a good yoga space. It was big enough that in my mental refurbishment I could even keep some of the communal seating and just add storage and re-organize part of it for yoga. 

At that house, I also had ideas to "fix" the front porch.

They have a porch that runs the full length of the house, but do nothing with it! There's one lonely bench near the door, presumably for deliveries, and that's it. To be fair, I noticed the majority of houses in that region kept sparse front porches, with more activities focused out back. Now me, I like a front porch. I like to watch the world. A couple chairs, a table, maybe a potted plant or some flowering shrubs to accent the front edge. A wreath? Something to show personality. 

When I lived in that area, I didn't have a front porch, but hung wind chimes on my small side porch, and lined it with conchs and driftwood. It wasn't much but gave it a little personality.

Not that my house is perfect. I've been in this house four years and still can't settle on my favorite garden furnishings! 

Am I crazy? Do you ever do anything like that - think about how you would design a place differently?

Another Anniversary!

It's been a year since we moved from China to Vietnam. A year since we moved from 40°N latitude to 15°N. A year since we left the pollution of Beijing for the fresh ocean breezes of Central Vietnam. That means it's time to renew our visas.

The "Laos Border Run" (Or "Visa Run") is SO common among expats here that it is its own business. "Can't. I'm on a visa run that day" is a viable excuse to get out of a commitment. The most popular visa is good for 90 days only, so some people make this trip A LOT.

Fortunately, we live in the skinny central coastal region of an already pretty skinny country. As the crow flies, we could probably get to Laos in about an hour. 

Unfortunately, as soon as you move inland you hit mountains. So the actual trip goes up the coast to the best pass through the mountains. About five hours to the border. We left Hoi An at 5:00 a.m. on our motorbike, to meet the rest of our crew at a coffee shop in Da Nang by 6:00 a.m. on Saturday. We were early enough for me to get a good, strong, black cup of Vietnamese coffee before heading out at about 6:20. 
 

Sunrise as we ride up the coast to Da Nang.

Now THAT'S a coffee shop.

Some people just hop on a bus to Laos; some might rent a car (oh, to have the big bucks). We were in a 15-passenger van, with one Korean, one Mexican, a Thai restaurateur, a Kiwi, a South African, and a trio of Filipino women. And our Vietnamese visa liaison, who is AH-mazing. 

Driving through the inland mountains...

...where houses are still elevated to keep out wild animals.

 

In line for the Vietnam exit stamp.

I've never seen a stand-alone Duty Free shop. Reasonable prices!

A funny thing happened as we waited between steps. We had to show our faces at the Vietnam exit window, but our liaison then paired our stamped passports with the paperwork and began the entrance to Laos procedure. After a while, she came out of the office with a stack of processed passports and collected most of our group to go begin the process of re-entering Vietnam. She pointed out four of us and said, "Wait here. Don't worry, I'll come back for you," and left with the others. As they left, I looked around. Whose visas were still awaiting processing? The only four white people in our group! HAHAHAHAHA. We had a good laugh about that. 

Walking over the border to repeat the process: Exit Laos, Enter Vietnam.

The cows were barely on the Vietnam side. I bet they graze both countries.

All told, the border process took about an hour, to do all four steps for all 10 of us. Our visa person is the best! Then we ate lunch at the one and only restaurant at the border (talk about your captive audience) and headed back. We were back in Da Nang by 6:00pm. A very productive 12 hours! 

We began a tradition years ago, of trying at least one beer from every country we travel to. I was thrilled to see "BeerLao" in the refrigerator at the border restaurant. Only the South African had a beer at lunch with us. It wasn't bad. Similar to any other run-of-the-mill beer from any other country. (Those are 500ml cans.) 

This visa process is not cheap. Making an international move on our own, with no sponsorship of an employer who would handle that kind of thing or allow for it in the salary, doing it all independently, means that all of this falls to us. We are paving our own way, and it is a grand adventure. We often talk about the low cost of living here, but it comes at a price. We love it, we wouldn't change it, but it's a different world.

Traveling in Tandem

We are moving. 
I will tell you where to later this month, but it is a big move.

This trip is different from our previous travels together, however.  Typically, I make the travel arrangements along with any required stop points on the trip, and he handles other logistical details, like forwarding mail etc.

When we had been dating less than two months, I was in a wedding in New Hampshire and invited him as my guest. (I was living in Indiana, he in Illinois, at the time.) I handled tickets, hotel, all my bridesmaid stuff, and let him figure out how to get to me to fly out of Indy and what to do with himself while I was occupied with wedding stuff out east. It was an awesome trip.

The year we got married we had many road trips. In fact, truth be told, part of the logic behind wedding in May when we had talked about doing it in the fall was because we had so many places to go and wanted to go together! His daughter's graduation, my goddaughter's graduation, and about a billion weddings all took place between that May and October. It was a great summer.

We developed a system: If it was my family/friend, I planned the travel details. If it was his, he did. His planning tended to be along the lines of... let's see how far we get the first day, and contact Hotels.com while on the road. My planning was more detailed. I learned to incorporate some leeway because, when you marry someone who is at their best and most comfortable flying by the seat of their pants, you accommodate! 

October was the finale of the traveling and it was my friend's wedding in Moab, Utah. We both knew people in Colorado, so we chose to fly in and out of Denver and rented a car. I secured rooms in the hotel recommended by the bride - OUTSTANDING - but allowed whole days with no plans. There is so much to do out there, I had a vague idea of "we must visit this and that" but left timing to him. 

It was possibly the best trip of our lives so far. We were supposed to leave the hotel on Sunday but were having such an amazing time in Moab that we extended our stay by a day. 

That was a fun reminiscence for me! Circling back to my point...

For this move, HE got the tickets! Our last major trip was to return to the US after about a year in China, and he noticed that the arrangements seemed to stress me out. There are SO MANY details and potential pitfalls when traveling internationally, and going through a 3rd party, I found, added to the headaches. So this time HE did the travel arrangements and is handling logistics of moving like canceling the lease and dealing with banks and things. While I am home working few hours right now I am packing the house, putting out feelers for potential buyers of furnishings that will not travel with us, etc. 

I love our marriage. I don't know of any couple as thoughtful of each other.

What a Weekend!

Oddly enough, the next writing prompt was "bullet point your day," so I bullet pointed the whole two-day trip. But I think I'll use pictures instead of some bullets.

We met our group outside a subway station at 8:00, and were on the road at 8:06. Fortunately, most of them spoke English, so it was very easy to get along. It was supposed to be a 4 hour drive.

At 11:15, we could see the Great Wall and were heading into mountains. Nowhere near the grassland we were going to.
 

Yes, we were whizzing by in a van, but still, I love being able to get pictures.

An hour later, we stopped for gas and to get snacks. Little did we know there were 2 1/2 hours to go! So much for a 4-hour trip.

We arrived at 3:00 to our "farm house." In these rural communities, they use tourism for income, so this was a working farm - actually, several in close proximity - that had each added facilities to house and feed several guests at once.

They fed us almost immediately. Probably because we were supposed to have arrived at 12 and begin riding at 3.

There were 12 of us around the table. It was good. Nothing new that we hadn't tried in Beijing, but good, and plenty of it.

At 3:30 we started getting on horses and ... well, it was really a guided walk, so not too exciting for those of us who'd ridden before, but pretty cool, and the landscape was nice... reminiscent of South Dakota.

Just starting out. There were several farms before the grasslands.

Not people from our group.

On our return to the guest house, some of us gathered in the dining room to play cards while awaiting the lamb that was being cooked for us. Kebabs of lamb, tofu, and chicken, with many sides leftover from lunch, but they made a big deal of the lamb. Apparently it was tasty. I did not partake, but the tofu was awesome!

Fireworks

One of the neighboring guest houses was doing very loud karaoke and ended with fireworks.


I began to notice that my voice was fading. Now that I'm working for the publisher, my voice is very important! This week we will begin a social media group for parents to learn basic English to use at home with their kids, and I'm the voice to teach pronunciation. Plus, the next video shoot is this coming weekend. NOT a good time to lose my voice! So I determined to be careful not to speak too much the next day.

DAY TWO
May 1 is the May Day Holiday in China, and that is why we had the long weekend and took this excursion. Today was the Great Kahn Palace and Bashang Grassland.

Brett and I rose early - work time - and went for a walk.
After breakfast of leftovers from yesterday - they really don't separate what's "breakfast food" here - we all wandered down to a small convenience store to buy foods for lunch - there really were no "lunch foods" so it was all snacks. 

Then we loaded up and headed to the Great Kahn Palace. This was a summer, vacation palace of sorts, built by Genghis Kahn, and used for generations... so probably Khubalai Kahn used it, too. That's what I choose to believe. Anyway, here is a small sample...

The entrance gate

The first structure that wasn't a gate - there were several.

What the HECK is a creepy clown doing here?

Armaments. Non-functional.

And Americans think the eagle is OUR symbol!

Throne room? Audience chamber?

A bedroom. Maybe the Kahn's? His wife's?

A maze. For entertainment. Not sure how authentic it is.

That Creepy Clown again! With FANGS!!

I got a close-up from the roof.

And then we headed off for the grassland and ate our "lunch" in the van. It wasn't a long drive, and soon we were at Lightning Lake in the Bashang Grassland.

Entrance rock.

Too early for boats, I got this from a grounded boat.

I have more pictures, but really. It's a lake. Pretty, but all the pictures are ... a lake. Surrounded by hills. Under a beautiful blue sky. You get it.
 
And then we headed home. 

On the ride home. So pretty!

I was hoping that the near 7 hour trip up was primarily a miscalculation due to the heavy traffic of people getting out of the city Sunday to take advantage of the holiday, but no. It took almost 7 hours, again. The organizers were not very organized to be honest, but I won't get into that here. It was a good trip overall.

I was going to combine this with the next prompt, but I think this is long enough. Glad to be home and trying to get back into a routine.

The Train Ride from Hell - but the scenery was priceless!

My view.

I knew we'd be sharing a room. Room - "hard sleeper" means 6 bunks in a small cabin without a door. About 12 cabins per train car, with a tiny table-ette in the hall outside each open doorway. That's a lot of people sharing space.

...If you're reading this, you might want to use the toilet, pour yourself a beverage and settle in.

I knew prior to moving to China that Chinese people in general are less protective of their personal space than Americans. It's fine! Not like we expected to travel in luxury, and this is how you meet people.

Sort of.
Through grunts and pointing, since I don't know the language.
For 24 hours.

Beijing West railway station.

We were headed to Hong Kong to re-validate our tourist visas. One stamp showing we left the country. One stamp showing the date of our "second" trip to China.

China is almost the same size as the U.S. Imagine boarding a train in Minnesota and exiting in Houston. Not getting off the train even once until Houston. One night in Houston (Hong Kong) and returning the same way. For two days after our return, it felt like I was swaying when I walked. I was afraid I'd fall off my chair during Thanksgiving dinner on Friday night!

The trip.

We started out from frigid Beijing at about 9pm. Easy enough, just in time to settle in for the night. Brett and I each had the two top bunks, about 8 feet above the floor and about 18 inches below the ceiling. Have I ever mentioned my claustrophobia? It's usually dormant except in low-ceiling situations. I took ginger (against motion-sickness) and melatonin (sleep-aid), and woke a few hours later, then every time the train stopped. 

We were in the party car. A pair of guys were settled in at the table right outside our cabin, and two cabins down from us were enjoying each others company. During the wee hours, I started hearing all their voices again. 

In the morning, we needed to stretch our legs, so decided to search out a dining car. When we found it, it was empty (an hour before lunch service), and they didn't want us there, but with the language barrier I think they found it easier to just let us sit and charge our phones. Eventually we ordered some lunch, and two Chinese men were seated with us near the end of our meal, extending our time in the comfort of the dining booth.

We were due to arrive around 6:30 p.m., and in the afternoon I got engrossed in watching a group in the next cabin gambling over some poker-ish type card game. I didn't understand it at all because of the language, but a wife of one of the players made great company watching with me from the aisle. We watched the scenery and the game, and I looked up how to say "beautiful": Mei-li-de. 

Honestly, much of the mountainous scenery we went through made me think of the movie Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, but maybe that was because it was so cloudy and grey - you know, like the scenes near the end of the movie?

Sorry. I digress.

We were running about an hour late. My first inclination of that was when we started getting all our stuff together and packed back up, and the group next door brought out the snack food and cracked open some beers! They shared, graciously, I think amused at the pair of "Meigworens" in their midst. I'd walked the length of the train. We were the only non-Chinese.

We arrived in Shenzhen, where we passed through customs and had to hop a subway to Hong Kong! About an hour later we popped out in the heart of the city, with no hotel reservation and no idea where we were. 

Hong Kong! And palm trees!

We quickly realized we'd picked the wrong subway stop as all the stores and businesses were EXTREMELY high end. In the end, we paid more than double our "highest" price we had hoped to pay for a hotel, dropped off our bag and immediately went out for food. At nearly 10 pm.

We found the best pizza we'd had since moving to China, a couple good beers, and some delightfully ENGLISH conversation - with a native from Nepal. Seriously, everyone speaks English in Hong Kong. It was so relaxing. We headed back to bed - to our expensive room with two twins because the hotel was so full they had no queen rooms left! My Chinese insomnia that has plagued me since moving here was cured in that tiny, expensive bed.

Return Trip.

There was some early talk about things we might be able to purchase in Hong Kong that are difficult to find in China, but after blowing our wad on a bed and some pizza, and with the extremely long subway trip between Hong Kong and Shenzhen, we just took a slow, window-shopping walk toward the subway station.

The subway back to Shenzhen, at 10 in the morning, was not bad at all. Apparently rush-hour is a thing everywhere! (and we missed it) Our passports stamped for our return, we had... three hours to wait before boarding the next 24-hour train.

It was sunny, and gorgeous. And not crowded like the Beijing station. And we had time to relax! In the sun. 
So we did. 
It was glorious. 
I love the sun.

This time, the train left around 2pm. No settling into our bunks for the night. Actually, it was horrible. There was a young couple in our cabin - I'll call them Princess and The Stooge. They were all up in our business, being sure we were in the correct bunks - we had planned to switch bunks because Brett perferred the privacy of the top bunk and we had one high and one low bunk this time. But no. The Stooge assured that I was in the top and Brett was in the bottom.

It was horrible. Princess and The Stooge commandeered the entire cabin, even bringing in the trash-tray that belonged with the aisle table, so Princess didn't have to leave to throw her... I dunno, pumpkin seed hulls? Ramen wrappers? I did not like that couple. AND since Brett is more social than I and often was away from his bunk, The Stooge kept settling into Brett's bunk like he owned the place. He is my permanent arch-nemesis.

Brett made friends with an English-speaking grad student from the next cabin. They talked the whole time until a late goodnight.

He makes everything better.

I think what saved me the first trip was Brett's presence in the high bunk across from me. There was a quiet young lady up there this time, and as I was taking ginger and melatonin again - because it sort of worked on the way down - she got a phone call. She tried to talk quietly, which was considerate. Then a few minutes later I kept hearing sniffling and gradually realized she was crying. I reached over and offered her a tissue, and she thanked me, and that was it. I decided that, in the morning I'd try to break through the language barrier and see if she was okay, or maybe needed a friend? She was on my mind, poor girl.

I awoke when the train was still. Breathing was hard. The stillness was the worst. It was midnight. I looked down toward my husband, listened to the dark stillness, and focused on my breathing. We started moving, but I couldn't sleep. Each time we stopped, the ceiling felt too close. At one stop, there was someone walking above my head. After 3 or 4 stops and panicked breathing, I was dressed, my shoes were on, and I was ready to climb down, but didn't want to wake people, so I held back. Finally it was too much, so I climbed down, with my phone and charger. There weren't many outlets for charging, but in the middle of the night, they were available!

I spent 5 hours in the aisle at a tiny table-ette, phone plugged in, knocking out sudokus and word puzzles - no wi-fi. Staff occasionally passed through as we neared a stop, ensuring that passengers didn't miss their stops. It kept getting colder the further north we passed, so at some point I climbed just high enough to get my coat and be warmer in the aisle. I cuddled up against the outer wall of the train, but was still cold. I stood leaning against the wall of the cabin, feet propped against the outer wall so I wouldn't fall, but finally around 5am I decided I was exhausted enough to climb back up to my claustrophobic tomb and pass out.

I did. Two hours later I was up. It was light out but still cold.
The girl with the tears the night before was gone.
I hope she's okay.

Thanksgiving feast!

When Brett got up, we ate some snack food items I'd picked up in Shenzhen and watched The Stooge dote on Princess. When the grad student got up, he offered new snack foods we'd never tried, and we had some lively conversation to pass the last few hours up to Beijing.

Four subways after arriving in Beijing, we were FINALLY home. But not done.

Brett took our newly stamped passports to update our residence permit while I hopped in the shower to start getting ready for A FORMAL THANKSGIVING DINNER we had that night.

I was so tired I could cry. I desperately wanted someone to tell me to just stay home and sleep. No one did. The bags and circles under my eyes took some work to make photo-ready. But we got ready and headed out to a fancy hotel to explain the significance of turkey to this American holiday! And ultimately, I'm glad I didn't stay home and sleep, because it was a good evening and a fun event.

But when we finally got home, I crashed. Hard.

End of story.

Y is for York, Pennsylvania

After college, I floundered. I was living in the Chicago area, working at the same job I had during college – now full-time – which felt like a cop-out. My friends were moving away or settling into the suburbs, which I did not get. What’s the point of being a part of the big city community if you never go into the city?

I ventured into a grad school program, not into a field I was drawn to, but one that gained major points with my dad. Surprise! I never finished that program, but I did drift into a several-month-long depression.

I had been living with my parents for a couple months when an old college friend who had moved away called.

Friend: Hey! Hubs got a position in someplace called York, Pennsylvania, and we’re going to be in northern Indiana for the weekend to pack up all our storage stuff. We’re calling all of our friends who still live within a reasonable distance…Want to help?

Me: Well sure! I’d love a weekend away from the house!

I saw this as my way out of a dead-end life that was driving me insane. Not wanting to explain myself to anyone, I simply packed my backpack with enough for about a week, and headed out. My intention was to help them load up the rental truck, and when they hit the road, I’d hit the road, too, going wherever the road took me.

During a day-and-a-half of catching up with someone I hadn’t seen in about 3 years, somehow I ended up explaining my plan. She was mortified at the capriciousness of my decision, but soon realized she wasn’t talking me out of it.

Later that night she suggested that I follow them as far as York.

Friend: If you’re hitting the road anyway, why not come with us? We’d love to have help unpacking in York, and you can stay with us a week or so and see if you like it. If not, move on. If York suits you, we can help you get set up there, too! Neither of us know anyone there, so it’ll be nice to be able to support each other.

That actually sounded reasonable. It wasn’t like I was committing to anything. I agreed.

Within my “one week” in York, I found a full-time job in retail, and decided I might as well stick around a year and save up for the next leg of my life’s adventure.

I got stuck for three years.

All in all, York is not my favorite place on earth, but in those three years I made some solid friends I am still in contact with today, so it must have been alright!

Moral of the Story: You have the power to change your life!

And He Said WHAT?

I have the best, most fun and spontaneous husband. This actually happened two summers ago...

Over the weekend I went to a wedding two states away. Naturally, Brett was my date, so we road-tripped together. Which is awesome. We make great travel-companions.

We took off from his place, for a 5-6 hour drive, and about a half-hour down the road, his phone rings. Not a number he recognized, but his same area code and prefix, so he answered. This is what I heard:

Brett:  Hey!

…

Okay. Bring your X-Box.

…

Just bring it.

…

See you when you get here!

Hearing this, I figured it had something to do with some plans he must have for the next week, after our return.  I asked – as anyone would - “who was it?”

Brett: No idea. It was a wrong number.

Me(disbelieving): …?!? No way! What was that about the X-box?

Brett: I dunno…

Some guy was calling his buddy (not Brett) to say he was running about 20 minutes late. My fun, spontaneous, thinks-on-his-feet then-boyfriend threw out the X-Box thing, guessing that he sounded the right age to have one, and he was right! So when the guy asked why, Brett didn’t elaborate: “Just bring it”.

I was randomly giggling all weekend thinking about this guy showing up at a friend’s house with his X-Box, and the friend not having a clue why. Can you imagine?

 

The other spontaneous thing that ended up cracking me up for a while was The Cheese Shop. Monty Python fans may be familiar with this…

Monty Python's Cheese Shop

On the return trip from the wedding, when we stopped for lunch we noticed a "ONE STOP CHEESE SHOP" across the interchange. (I've lost the picture by now.)

I thought, how many stops does it usually take for a person to buy cheese? so we decided we better check it out. (If you follow Brett on Vine, you saw his video of the place.)

We went in and saw a college-age girl behind the counter.

“How many kinds of cheese do you have?”

“Umm...”

Yeah. 7 kinds, and not much of any of them. I noticed a sign further back advertising cheese curds. I like cheese curds, but hardly ever get them, so I exclaimed, “Oh! Cheese Curds!”

Before I could even walk back there, I heard the girl call from the office:

“We’re all out!”

It cracked us both up.

Sorry for any weird formatting. I'm trying to get back into blogging regularly, but things have changed...